Happy Mothers Day 5/13/2012

I dedicate this Mothers Day to the 4 Mothers in My Family; Marla, Darsey, Tarin and Callie. I also dedicate this Mothers Day to Mothers who cannot be Mothers in this Life Time. I also dedicate this Mothers Day to my Mother in Heaven; Jocelyn who I still Love Dearly. I Love Mother Earth and I Love Goddess Above. Thankyou Mothers, for All the Lovely Things and Life.

T.M.S Name Sign

How To Make A Name Sign

Happy Valentime

Decorated Name Signs of the words Happy Valentime.

Love Light and All the Lovely Things and Life.

9/11/2010-9/11/2011

The Flying Kid.

The Flying Kid.
I wrote this Story on a Class Email and a couple of the women in my class of only 7 girls believed it. It's fiction but it's based on actual events. Like that my Dad was a WW2 fighter pilot.

I don't ever remember my Dad getting lost. Maybe it was because he was a P51 Fighter Pilot in the war. He also had a good Navigator. My Mom.

Yea. The whole family actually went up in the Fighter. It was a little cramped but it was fun if you were the kid on top. Sometimes we got to use the parachute and that was a blast!

I guess this is going to have to become a continuing story that is based on a true story.
You see, when we were kids my Father owned an old Fighter Plane. After the war the Army had told it's pilots that if they could come up with $270.00, they could buy their old fighters. My Dad was so attached to his plane, named Jocie that he sold his old Model A to his best pal Phillip and bought the plane.
He and my Mom flew it back to Glenview. Mom didn't really want to fly again but Dad insisted that he had to have her as a Navigator and she finally consented. After a honeymoon flight that lasted over a month they finally arrived in Glenview. Thankfully the Glenview Naval Air Station was right by The Park.
Dad kept the Fighter at the Navy Base that was only a mile from our home. When he had time he flew it on Weekends and made extra money pulling banners around the Chicago area.
As we kids were born and grew my Dad would teach us all to fly. He taught us first on his lap and then at about the age of 12 and were able to touch the pedals we could fly from the back seat. At 14 we would solo and at 16 get our flying licenses.
While other kids were learning to ride bicycles, we were learning to fly.
This was all top secret of course because it was decided that such an amazing thing shouldn't be wasted. The hard part was keeping it secret in my youth. I couldn't tell the kids at school and that was why I was tired all the time and why I got such poor grades.
All of this has become declassified now and thankfully I can finally tell my story.

It was a dark and stormy night and I was in the 3rd Grade. Dad had a mail run in the fighter but he was too ill to fly. As the oldest boy it was up to me.
I put my little man bomber jacket on and my helmet and goggles and headed out the door. I rode my bike past the guard at the Navy Base guard house and he just nodded. They all knew me and never checked because they knew I was in a hurry.
Soon I was loading mail into the fighter. The runway was barely visible as I taxied out. After a brief checklist I was airborn but not for long. I forgot to gas it up and I ended up in the pond at the end of the runway.
All I could think of was how pissed my Dad would be! That was the end of the Fighter.

I swam to shore and by that time the emergency vehicles had arrived from the Navy Base. Their strong searchlights caught the fighters tail sticking up out of the water. I couldn't help but cry like a baby even if I was trying to be brave in front of the sailors.
They gave me a wool blanket to wrap up in and let me sit in the front of the fire engine. I watched as Navy divers hooked a cable onto the rear landing gear. Soon the plane was hanging from the crane like a big flying fish and water was draining out of it everywhere. What a sad sight but it didn't look too bad, though. Maybe she would fly again some day.
To a kid it seemed like the end of the World. My Dad would be so disappointed in me. But there were other things to consider now. I hadn't handed in my composition and it was a week late. Soon I was sound asleep in the front seat of the Fire Engine.

The next day dawned sunny and warm and it was Saturday so Dad and I went over to look at the plane. It was pretty sad looking. Dad still wasn't feeling too good and that was probably a good thing because he hadn't bothered to spank me. He was an old softy compared to my Mom.
Dad said it was about time we got a Jet anyway.
We looked at some of the old ones but Dad wasn't going to get one today. He let me drive him home and then take the car over to Elvin's.
Remember I was only in the 3rd Grade and 8 years old. Things were different in those days and especially for our family. The cops just shook their heads when I drove by and was sitting on one of Dad's old tool boxes with my little brother Gilbert working the pedals. It took two of us to drive the car but we did all right. If we could fly a fighter, we surely could drive a car and the cops knew it.
When I got to Elvin's I told Gilbert to get lost and be back in two hours. I figured that Suzie would have some Rhubarb for him anyway. Elvin couldn't believe me when I told him about the plane but he handed me one of Whitey's old Playboys and we soon forgot about everything.
At Church the next day the sermon was about flying too high and being too small for your britches. Our assistant pastor Jan Wise was scowling at me from the pulpit and I knew right away how to pay him back for this insult. I ran out of church as he hollered for me to come back but I didn't stop.
I headed to his house and hunted golf balls until church was over and before he got back home I had his back yard cleaned out. What a haul and I knew these would bring top dollar at Chesterfield Golf Course. That would serve him right for making me the topic of his sermon.
To Maybe Be Continued.