Brigid tackled the naming of things in response to Tam’s excellent post – in doing so, she ran down several interesting paths. Go read it – all of it. I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll wait – are you back yet? (grin)
Out of the blue, my brother sent me an email the other day with four photos attached. Simple subject – no body text. Just – “Some memories for you.” As often happens when multiple pictures are attached to an email, the order was somewhat jumbled, so the first picture I saw was this:
An instantly recognizable form – seen over Mom’s woodshed. So far, so good. The second shot I opened was the “memory flood” shot.
As I saw that lovely little lady heading in on what looked like a sort of high and hot final, I was instantly transformed into a seven year old boy.
“Mama! Daddy’s back from flyin’! Do you think he’ll take me up?”
Now the rational part of me (heh) knew that wasn’t the case, but I sure did fall back about 44 years all of a sudden.
It wasn’t until the lump the size of Texas in my throat subsided (and I got that dust out of my eyes) that I realized the pictures were not the sharpest.
Nor were they as zoomed in as they could have been – but for a time they brought back a clarity of memory back that I wish I had every day.
I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the fellow that did this flyover, in fact though I’ve been told, I can’t recall his name. I just hope I’m there the next time he comes by (and I hope he sets her down for a spell).
Dad had his J-3 from the early 60′s through the mid-80′s – though the last few years she was grounded due to a failed punch test on the wings. I had already moved out from home when he sold her, so I didn’t have to see that sad day.
We pretty much had names for everything – the old 1955 Chevrolet pickup was “Leapin’ Lena.” The Farmall Cub tractor? That was “Little Red.” The landing strip is named “Cub Field” – for three reasons – the plane, the tractor and the the creek that runs across the southern end of the approach to the strip. All named and all attached to a multitude of memories…
Oh, the J-3′s name? She was the “J-Flea” or the “Flea-Bug”…I miss that ol’ bird…and you too, Pop.
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