Crank it up, Dad
I could feel him on that pass.
My dad and his love for flying. Can't be matched. For as long as I can remember, my dad has talked, breathed, bled airplanes. When we were small and even into our adult lives, driving in a car with my dad always led to an airport. I have been in every small, broken down airport hanger west of the Mississippi...and even a few in Mississippi. Long before there was Internet so he could check, his basic instinct of all that smells like airplane fuel, could guide him blindly to the next small strip of blacktop at the end of a windsock. It seemed it was always hot, your legs sticking to the plastic chairs in the "office" (usually just a small room right of the hanger door) and the coins he gave each of us bought us stale peanuts and a pop in a glass bottle. I didn't understand as a small child what I do as a grown adult. I was watching... and learning too, about how a passion and love for substance turns into a lifelong quest, not for perfection, but for pure joy, gratification and solace.
He builds and rebuilds old airplanes, venturing into exotic places like Mexico to old crash sites to find the parts he needs. His latest project is coming to a close, I see the excitement in his eyes and he tells me about his plans for the "test flight". I love that sparkle when he makes me go into his "hanger" he just had to have on his property, in the middle of the night (cause that is when I arrived), with a flashlight to see the engine he just rebuilt. I don't understand what I am looking at but I understand what it means to him.
His prominent affection is crop dusting. He is the best I have ever seen. I always said when I grew up I wanted to be a flagger for my dad. I had not had the chance to photograph and preserve for all time, his passion. He went along with it "cause there is that one field that needs spraying". As I felt him pass me that day in the field, hearing the deafening roar of his Supercub, I could sense his pride in a job well done, his excitement for living his dream, and watch his true love holding him in the palm of her hand...
and I wondered what it must feel like to soar.
I love you , Daddy.
