Jun. 26, 2002 - 21:50 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Airborne

The first model airplane I had was an awkward model of the Spirit Of St. Louis, Lindbergh's plane. It was made from hardwood parts and must have weighed two pounds or a bit less. It was a commercially made thing but never-the-less clumsy. But with it I became airborne. That plane lifted me to the skies where the mail planes flew. Not a foot off the ground but miles in the air spirtually.

Then came those little cheapy balsa models that looked somewhat like aircraft, I made a few of them. My heart was in the sky through them. I remember one wire framed flying model, covered in very thin fabric having a propeller driven by a long stout rubber band. I had great fun with that until unfortunately I left it in a walkway through the house and it was stepped on, crushed it was.

Then there was a long period in elementary school and early Junior High school that there existed the Guillows Glider. By the way, they can still be bought in some hobby shops. Four pieces of balsa wood, fuselage (weighted a bit in the front), tail surfaces and a wing. What a neat contraption that was. It could be made to loop the loop or do a long glide and variations by the way the wing was set forward or to the back in the slot. It could also be made to bank by putting the wing a bit off center. The beautiful thing about those Guillow's was that they were cheap enough to be within the reach of a kid. Break one ? Run an errand and get enough from that to buy a replacement. Tail surfaces were spare parts as were fuselages but wings were almost non-existent in a kids bone-yard as they broke soon and easily. I spent a lot of time in the air mentally in my Guillows Gliders with my imagination aflame I was in the air over France in the World War.

Then along in there somewhere came the little lead models, somewhat to scale and looking like the plane that they were fashioned to look like. Tootsie Toys is a name that comes to me, could be wrong but they did have a catchy name. I think present day Matchbook model cars are about the scale.

Rainy days, snowy days or after dark my fleet of those flew high above the living room furniture, if possible when the table was not in use by the folks my landing field and cardboard hangars were on the table top.

I did have a succession of kites and flew some successfully but steady wind was not often had here in Denver, often attempts at flight either ended up in a disastrous crash or watching the darned thing flutter into a treetop.

For many years thereafter my flying was purely mental through books or picture shows. The first aircraft I rode in was one owned by the president of a company where I worked, it was a twin engine Aero-commander. He took us from Denver to a test site in Utah and then back to Denver the next day. I was in kid heaven though in my forties. I devoured the sights from aloft.

I had a few flights in small aircraft, after that I had to fly on commercial airliners at what ? Thirty thousand feet ? That too presented fascinating sights, as if looking at a relief map. But that soon grew old for me, sometimes above the clouds would be nice but finally that became boring also. I did a lot of reading then. But my heart has always wanted to be in a small aircraft, close to the ground.

In my sixties I had a thrilling flight as passenger in a sail plane. We were towed up from the Boulder, Colorado airport up past the Flatirons and rode the thermals for over an hour in the back country west of the Front Range. That was an experience I will never forget, nor do I want to. Just the rush of air against the skin of the craft. It was quiet enough I could hear what the pilot said in a normal voice.

Some day maybe I will have bucks enough and the opportunity to be passenger in a hot air balloon that is going somewhere. I long to be able to do that, to be in the air near the ground, drifting along and be able to hear sounds from the ground. Even occasionally hear voices from below and look down, watching cars, hearing their motors and maybe if in the country hear cows lowing and sheep bleating. But otherwise very quiet.

In my dreams I am often Airborne . . . . . . . .

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