FLYING NOSTALGIA

It was so cool living on Narramore in the late 1950s. Our house was on the glide path to the Buckeye Airport which, at that time, was south of the canal about a half mile west of town. Paul Pierce was the owner/operator of the airport and – how exciting it was - he lived next door! He also had a beautiful daughter who was my age.

 I kept bugging him about wanting to ride in an airplane. So one day he took my dad and me for a ride in his Piper Tri-Pacer, similar to the one shown in the photo. Wow, I got such a thirst for flying that I eventually became a private pilot.

That summer of 1960 I worked for Pierce Aviation as a “flagman,” helping the crop dusters get lined up on the right rows. I had to get up about 4AM and be at work before the sun came up. And I’ve got a scar to prove it – but that story will have to wait for another time.

There’s also a not so pleasant aspect to these flying recollections. Stored at the airport was the wreckage of a helicopter. I never knew the details about how it crashed. What I remember vividly to this day is the smell of death. A person had died in the accident and their body had burned. It was a profound and sobering experience for a 16 year old.

Teenagers tend to think of themselves as invincible. Nothing can hurt them. Then something like the smell of that helicopter comes along and it forces one to come face-to-face with their own mortality. And they begin to face all the related issues of God, religion, and life after death. Hopefully we all take the time to ponder those issues and deal with them in our own lives.