Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Dad's Last Flight
Today is a date that marks one of life's milestones for me. It was many years ago on this date that my life changed forever. Today is the date on which my father died; five days after he retired from twenty years service in the US Air Force. It really was pretty tragic. My mom 'sacrificed' moving around all those years to 'someday' have a nice home. His death was traumatic for a fifteen year old boy, too.
Dad retired as a Lt. Col. serving at his last station at Beale AFB in the Sierra foothills north of Sacramento, California. It was nice there. We were an hour-and-a-half from Lake Tahoe, little more than two hours to San Francisco and the Bay Area. That Air Force base was the home base of the SR-71 reconnaissance plane. It is nicknamed, 'Blackbird.' To this day it holds the speed record for any airplane; I believe somewhere around Mach 3. The plane could fly from LA to NYC in an hour-and-a-half. It was very cool to see.
I may have mentioned in an earlier post; I was a very lucky kid. I was in high school when we were there.
We left California; headed east. Mom and Dad liked Carson City, Nevada; just up-and-over the Sierras from where we lived. We spent two nights there in a casino hotel before we headed up to Reno, Interstate 80 for the long ride back east. It was Dad, Mom, and me. My sister was in her first year at Penn State University. My parents were both from PA and had always maintained legal residence there as we moved about the entire country.
Our first stop was nothing more than a spot of a town in Nevada called Elko. It was out in the middle of the desert. The scenery was beautiful as the air was clear; the sun was bright and the many local mountains were all capped with snow.
We were all very familiar with travelling long distances in the car. We had done it many times. Up until that time I had lived for some time in every region of the United States except New England. My dad liked to kill as many miles as he could in a day's time.
I will never forget one trip from Omaha to eastern PA in 22 hours down Interstate 80. We left at midnight that night and headed east across Iowa. Around 2AM he got pulled over for doing 80 mph. I don't know if he got a ticket or what; but we made it to PA by 10PM that night. That was a long drive for that many hours. It took us a day or two to recover.
On this trip we headed out from Elko, Nevada after breakfast that morning; again east on Interstate 80. We were headed to somewhere in the 'Bos-Wash' corridor for the new life we all had dreamed of; finally a place to call 'home.' We crossed some mountains and passed the last casino in Nevada before you enter the 'wasteland' of western Utah. We could see the snow-capped Wasatch Mountains in the distance but they never seemed to get any closer. It was kind of like watching a pot of water boil, ya know?
After some hours we finally passed through Salt Lake City and up the Wasatch Front. Again, it was very beautiful. Everything 'down-below' was green; the immense mountains capped with snow. We made our way through the mountains and into Wyoming. Dad began not feeling well. We stopped for the night at a motel in Green River, Wyoming. He complained of 'indigestion' and spent part of that night sleeping on the floor.
The following morning we got up and headed back on the road. We crossed Wyoming and into western Nebraska. That night we stopped in North Platte. I had a friend from California that was now living in Omaha; near where we used to live. We planned a brief stop there and then a detour from I-80 down to I-70 to go across Missouri.
My dad's brother worked for an aerospace company in St. Louis. My dad's mom; my grandma, was in a nursing home nearby. The plan was to get from North Platte to St. Louis the next day. We almost made it.
We left North Platte, headed east, stopped in Omaha, headed south from Bellevue, Nebraska, crossed a small part of Kansas and then crossed the Missouri River into Missouri. We headed south along the river to I-70 near Kansas City and headed east towards St. Louis. I remember passing the stadiums near the freeway.
An hour-or-so later the sun was going down, it had been a long day on-the-road and dad complained of pain in his left arm. He presumed it was from all the driving. Mom and dad decided to stop for the night at a Howard Johnson's Motor Lodge off I-70 at Columbia, Missouri. We would then make the short hour-or-so drive into St. Louis in the morning.
Until now I haven't mentioned that during this trip we were 'smuggling' our family pug into the pet-unfriendly hotels. The hotel-casino in Carson City was 'the best;' my mom had her wrapped in baby blanket as we quickly darted onto an empty elevator. At the Columbia, MO hotel we didn't trust that she wouldn't be heard crying or scratching at the door if we left her in the strange place. A family discussion took place for which I will always feel guilty.
The original plan was for me to go eat dinner alone while mom stayed with dad, who wasn't feeling well, and the dog. When I was done eating I would stay with the dog as they left the room to eat. I am sorry to say; I balked at that idea. I didn't want to eat alone.
The plan was changed to accommodate my whining.
Dad would take a hot bath as he wasn't feeling well. He would stay with the dog. Mom and I would go eat. Mom and I went to eat. During the meal I complained about chest pains. She advised I was eating 'too fast.' After our meal she dispatched me to the trunk of the car to fetch the laundry bag as she went back to the room and my dad.
When I got back into the hallway of the hotel from the car I found mom standing outside the door of our room. Her hands were flattened against her lips and cheeks. She was aghast. I asked, 'Mom, what's wrong?' She said, 'Your father's dead. I need to call someone.'
I advised her to call from the room. She dashed off to the office.
Dad was dead in the bath tub.
The ambulance arrived from the nearby medical school; a VERY GOOD facility. Very sorry to say; they got there too late and he was gone. I really don't remember much more than that from that night. That part of our trip is still all a blur. I do remember they moved us to another room and they forgave us for smuggling the sweet dog.
Those are the details of THIS NIGHT so many years ago that changed my life forever. I'm sure that event; more than any other, shaped who-and-what I am today. I would like to think that is a good thing. I learned a lot about life that night; and in the days, weeks, months and years that followed. It took many years to realize, despite the tragedy of my father's untimely death; he provided me with many 'gifts.'
I'm proud to say his legacy of intelligence and strong values lives on; in some way, with me.
I'm a very lucky man in many ways, indeed.
Dad retired as a Lt. Col. serving at his last station at Beale AFB in the Sierra foothills north of Sacramento, California. It was nice there. We were an hour-and-a-half from Lake Tahoe, little more than two hours to San Francisco and the Bay Area. That Air Force base was the home base of the SR-71 reconnaissance plane. It is nicknamed, 'Blackbird.' To this day it holds the speed record for any airplane; I believe somewhere around Mach 3. The plane could fly from LA to NYC in an hour-and-a-half. It was very cool to see.
I may have mentioned in an earlier post; I was a very lucky kid. I was in high school when we were there.
We left California; headed east. Mom and Dad liked Carson City, Nevada; just up-and-over the Sierras from where we lived. We spent two nights there in a casino hotel before we headed up to Reno, Interstate 80 for the long ride back east. It was Dad, Mom, and me. My sister was in her first year at Penn State University. My parents were both from PA and had always maintained legal residence there as we moved about the entire country.
Our first stop was nothing more than a spot of a town in Nevada called Elko. It was out in the middle of the desert. The scenery was beautiful as the air was clear; the sun was bright and the many local mountains were all capped with snow.
We were all very familiar with travelling long distances in the car. We had done it many times. Up until that time I had lived for some time in every region of the United States except New England. My dad liked to kill as many miles as he could in a day's time.
I will never forget one trip from Omaha to eastern PA in 22 hours down Interstate 80. We left at midnight that night and headed east across Iowa. Around 2AM he got pulled over for doing 80 mph. I don't know if he got a ticket or what; but we made it to PA by 10PM that night. That was a long drive for that many hours. It took us a day or two to recover.
On this trip we headed out from Elko, Nevada after breakfast that morning; again east on Interstate 80. We were headed to somewhere in the 'Bos-Wash' corridor for the new life we all had dreamed of; finally a place to call 'home.' We crossed some mountains and passed the last casino in Nevada before you enter the 'wasteland' of western Utah. We could see the snow-capped Wasatch Mountains in the distance but they never seemed to get any closer. It was kind of like watching a pot of water boil, ya know?
After some hours we finally passed through Salt Lake City and up the Wasatch Front. Again, it was very beautiful. Everything 'down-below' was green; the immense mountains capped with snow. We made our way through the mountains and into Wyoming. Dad began not feeling well. We stopped for the night at a motel in Green River, Wyoming. He complained of 'indigestion' and spent part of that night sleeping on the floor.
The following morning we got up and headed back on the road. We crossed Wyoming and into western Nebraska. That night we stopped in North Platte. I had a friend from California that was now living in Omaha; near where we used to live. We planned a brief stop there and then a detour from I-80 down to I-70 to go across Missouri.
My dad's brother worked for an aerospace company in St. Louis. My dad's mom; my grandma, was in a nursing home nearby. The plan was to get from North Platte to St. Louis the next day. We almost made it.
We left North Platte, headed east, stopped in Omaha, headed south from Bellevue, Nebraska, crossed a small part of Kansas and then crossed the Missouri River into Missouri. We headed south along the river to I-70 near Kansas City and headed east towards St. Louis. I remember passing the stadiums near the freeway.
An hour-or-so later the sun was going down, it had been a long day on-the-road and dad complained of pain in his left arm. He presumed it was from all the driving. Mom and dad decided to stop for the night at a Howard Johnson's Motor Lodge off I-70 at Columbia, Missouri. We would then make the short hour-or-so drive into St. Louis in the morning.
Until now I haven't mentioned that during this trip we were 'smuggling' our family pug into the pet-unfriendly hotels. The hotel-casino in Carson City was 'the best;' my mom had her wrapped in baby blanket as we quickly darted onto an empty elevator. At the Columbia, MO hotel we didn't trust that she wouldn't be heard crying or scratching at the door if we left her in the strange place. A family discussion took place for which I will always feel guilty.
The original plan was for me to go eat dinner alone while mom stayed with dad, who wasn't feeling well, and the dog. When I was done eating I would stay with the dog as they left the room to eat. I am sorry to say; I balked at that idea. I didn't want to eat alone.
The plan was changed to accommodate my whining.
Dad would take a hot bath as he wasn't feeling well. He would stay with the dog. Mom and I would go eat. Mom and I went to eat. During the meal I complained about chest pains. She advised I was eating 'too fast.' After our meal she dispatched me to the trunk of the car to fetch the laundry bag as she went back to the room and my dad.
When I got back into the hallway of the hotel from the car I found mom standing outside the door of our room. Her hands were flattened against her lips and cheeks. She was aghast. I asked, 'Mom, what's wrong?' She said, 'Your father's dead. I need to call someone.'
I advised her to call from the room. She dashed off to the office.
Dad was dead in the bath tub.
The ambulance arrived from the nearby medical school; a VERY GOOD facility. Very sorry to say; they got there too late and he was gone. I really don't remember much more than that from that night. That part of our trip is still all a blur. I do remember they moved us to another room and they forgave us for smuggling the sweet dog.
Those are the details of THIS NIGHT so many years ago that changed my life forever. I'm sure that event; more than any other, shaped who-and-what I am today. I would like to think that is a good thing. I learned a lot about life that night; and in the days, weeks, months and years that followed. It took many years to realize, despite the tragedy of my father's untimely death; he provided me with many 'gifts.'
I'm proud to say his legacy of intelligence and strong values lives on; in some way, with me.
I'm a very lucky man in many ways, indeed.
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