Wing Watching

Last summer, I took some photos that I forgot to share. They are especially wonderful to view right now because in the midst of a dismal winter, the vivid sky and green grass are antidotes for a winter-weary soul. The story behind the photos is pretty special, too.

In the months leading up to Sarah’s high school graduation last June, Steve put a lot of time into getting a particular radio controlled plane sky-worthy. His goal was to send it off on its first flight with the gathered, out-of-town family as his audience.

When we all got out to the flying field, my brother-in-law and nephew lent their encouragement and good advice.

Some hands on work was done.

 And then it was time for the big moment.

Steve (and his plane) were being watched by his wife, his daughter, his son, his daughter-in-law, his grandson, his mother-in-law, his mom, his dad, his sister-in-law, his brother-in-law and his nephew. 

How’s that for a familial formation?

The first flight was a great success. Everyone ooohed. And also ahhed.

A few more flights followed with some of them ending right in front of us and some of them ending a little distance away.

Fortunately, Steve had planned (way) ahead and twenty-five years ago, had been part of the production of a particular child . . .

a child who has turned into a man with big ol’ strong legs.

This is a man who is perfectly suited to running and retrieving airplanes for his dad.

I tell you, these kids of ours come in handy sometimes. We should have had a dozen more while we were at it.

And it seems as though Nathan and his sweet wife have produced a child of their own who will also be able to run around and fetch things for them in their dotage.

It all works out quite well, don’t you think?

I loved watching Steve and Nathan together that day. They have always enjoyed each other’s company and that enjoyment has only increased now that Nathan is an adult.

The flights continued with Steve making various mysterious adjustments to the plane in between times.

His audience continued to applaud enthusiastically and even our little assemblage of ladies managed to spout off all manner of knowledgeable things like, “Wow. That plane is really speedy!” and “Isn’t that green stripe on the tail just darling?”

As you can tell, we are very cognizant of aeronautical terminology.

 My darling daughter-in-law, Meagan, stayed busy capturing it all with her camera–truly a woman after my own heart. 

 Throughout the comings and goings of that plucky plane, I was keeping an eye on Steve’s dad, Ken. I knew that he would be taking a special interest in the little RC plane’s progress through the sky because in years past, he had taken a few sky journeys of his own.

Except Ken’s particular journeys were in the cockpits of fighter jets. One of them–the F-111D–had a top speed of 1800 m.p.h. 

However, since those exciting, high-flying days of yore, a few years have crept up and a few body parts have broken down.

Those passing years, though, have done nothing to diminish the spark, that inextinguishable love of flying. As Steve’s plane danced and whirled in the sky, this former Air Force pilot just couldn’t stand to stay on the bench and spectate with the other family members. The call of the sky impelled him.

He had to get up, he had to get closer to the action, he had to stand by his son as they craned their necks and wing watched together.

I found myself tearing up over the obvious love and the special bond between them–the bond of their mutual love of flight.

One of them had been up there, had actually become a part of the landscape of sky and clouds, crossing the Atlantic solo thirteen times, taking off and landing on runways all over the world as he fought and flew for freedom.

The other one dreams always of flying but until those dreams come true, he sends a hand-made, heart-built RC plane into the sky in his stead.

And then he stands next to his dad, his friend, his hero—and together they watch it fly.