Sunday, April 21, 2013

Watching Airplanes

The Man loves, loves, loves anything to do with flight.

Air travel. Moon rockets. Dirigibles. 

You name it, he is interested in it.

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Chrome was the word of the day at the local air museum. Lots of shiny, silvery, glistening chrome.
Since we were celebrating his birthday, the Man got to pick the agenda for the day.

We started out with breakfast.

Local mom and pop place. Tasty grub. The boys had the corn beef hash. I had sweet potato hash. K had peanut butter pancakes.

Not a speck left on the plates.
Next stop was the air museum.

I am not particularly interested in planes unless they pertain to me getting on them for vacation. But since I know the Man is {very} interested in planes, we lingered and looked and ooh-ed and aah-ed as long as he wanted.

After wandering around for a while, I found some old photos taken of the Wright brothers. I was more interested in the fellow in the bottom right.

A photographer.

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According to the signage, these photographs were taken in 1911.
After the air museum, we stopped at an ice cream bar and lingered in the sunshine on this cool spring day, licking ice cream and crunching cones. None of us wanted the day to end, so we drove over to the airport, parked near one of the runways, and watched the planes come in.

We used to do this when J and K were small. I can see J in my mind, giddy with excitement every time a plane came in to land. He would use his hands to show us how the plane landed, with the appropriate "landing plane" noises, and would get so excited he would trip all over his words.

He was just a little guy then.

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As I watching the planes, I kept thinking of this song by Gary Allan. 

Sweet song. Sad song. 


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