As I sit here at my desk, I can look out over the most delightful scene: mountains, covered with trees in blazes of red, yellow and orange. Today, the sky is the bluest blue with only an occasional puff of clouds. The sun is shining too.
Directly over the mountain in front of me is a glider port. For those who did not grow up in a family of aviators, a glider port is an airport for gliders (sometimes known as sailplanes). They are the long wing, motorless planes which must be towed into the air before they release and soar. If the pilot is skilled enough, he can maneuver the plane underneath those puffs of clouds and catch "thermals", long rising columns of air that lift the plane higher.
The glider port over the mountain is aptly named "Ridge Soaring Gliderport". Another way to catch thermals is to ride the air that comes up the sides of mountains. When there are long ridges like we have here in the Allegheny mountains, gliders can soar for hours, catching the air currents.
My dad was a world-class glider pilot. When he was married to my mom, and living in Lubbock, Texas, he actually built a glider in the front yard of our suburban home (he was an engineer also). I can't remember this, but I have pictures from that time in the early 70's.
My parents divorced shortly after I was born, and I didn't see him for several years. In fact, for various reasons (none of which makes sense to me), he wasn't a part of my life at all.
Then, when I was 13 years old, I was allowed to visit him where he and his new family were stationed in Utah (he was a pilot in the Air Force). It was the happiest two weeks of my childhood. Among other things, he offered to take me for a glider ride, and I naturally said "yes".
I loved it! I won't romanticize the experience, and say it was life-changing, but it was the most adventuresome thing I had ever done. You know that feeling when an airplane hits turbulence, and you lose gravity for a second (you kind of feel like your stomach is in your throat)? Soaring is one long rush like that. Feeling the wind under the wings lift the plane, sometimes very quickly, is thrilling!
My dad was a master at handling that glider in the same way that any of my children play their instruments. He knew what he was doing, and I never worried.
After two weeks, I said "goodbye", excited at the thought that this man could be a permanent part of my life. In fact, he called me on the telephone two times afterwards, and it was a wonderful thing to feel loved by him.
Unfortunately, one month later, my dad was killed in a glider accident, doing exactly what he had done with me: ridge soaring.
I still can't talk about my dad's death. It's so painful, and it is such a loss.
His mother, Gram, sent me a box of letters many years later. You see, my dad was a prolific letter writer, and wrote her almost weekly. She had saved the letters from the time when I was born, and she felt that I should have them (thank goodness for tender mercies).
The letters included details of his trips to various glider ports, including one in Pennsylvania. You guessed it: the Ridge Soaring Gliderport that still operates just over the mountain from where we live was mentioned in one of his letters.
I try not to think about my dad very much, because again, his death just makes me so sad. However, it was a couple of weeks ago that John said to me, out of the blue, "I think your dad is watching over you and knows what is going on in your life." I couldn't process that statement, and I am reduced to tears now as I type it.
I don't know that I believe in spirits watching over us; it might happen, it might not. But today, on this beautiful day, I looked out the window and saw this:
Yes, if you look closely, it's a glider, and it looks remarkably like the one in which my dad died. I don't see them often, and I try not to invest much in what they represent to me. But if you believe in signs, or those kind of things, you might believe that it's my dad, reminding me that he's still here, aware of my life, reminding me that he loves me and in the words of John, watching over me.
But if not, that's okay too. If nothing else, it's a sweet reminder to me of a very happy moment in my life.
Directly over the mountain in front of me is a glider port. For those who did not grow up in a family of aviators, a glider port is an airport for gliders (sometimes known as sailplanes). They are the long wing, motorless planes which must be towed into the air before they release and soar. If the pilot is skilled enough, he can maneuver the plane underneath those puffs of clouds and catch "thermals", long rising columns of air that lift the plane higher.
The glider port over the mountain is aptly named "Ridge Soaring Gliderport". Another way to catch thermals is to ride the air that comes up the sides of mountains. When there are long ridges like we have here in the Allegheny mountains, gliders can soar for hours, catching the air currents.
My dad was a world-class glider pilot. When he was married to my mom, and living in Lubbock, Texas, he actually built a glider in the front yard of our suburban home (he was an engineer also). I can't remember this, but I have pictures from that time in the early 70's.
My parents divorced shortly after I was born, and I didn't see him for several years. In fact, for various reasons (none of which makes sense to me), he wasn't a part of my life at all.
Then, when I was 13 years old, I was allowed to visit him where he and his new family were stationed in Utah (he was a pilot in the Air Force). It was the happiest two weeks of my childhood. Among other things, he offered to take me for a glider ride, and I naturally said "yes".
I loved it! I won't romanticize the experience, and say it was life-changing, but it was the most adventuresome thing I had ever done. You know that feeling when an airplane hits turbulence, and you lose gravity for a second (you kind of feel like your stomach is in your throat)? Soaring is one long rush like that. Feeling the wind under the wings lift the plane, sometimes very quickly, is thrilling!
My dad was a master at handling that glider in the same way that any of my children play their instruments. He knew what he was doing, and I never worried.
After two weeks, I said "goodbye", excited at the thought that this man could be a permanent part of my life. In fact, he called me on the telephone two times afterwards, and it was a wonderful thing to feel loved by him.
Unfortunately, one month later, my dad was killed in a glider accident, doing exactly what he had done with me: ridge soaring.
I still can't talk about my dad's death. It's so painful, and it is such a loss.
His mother, Gram, sent me a box of letters many years later. You see, my dad was a prolific letter writer, and wrote her almost weekly. She had saved the letters from the time when I was born, and she felt that I should have them (thank goodness for tender mercies).
The letters included details of his trips to various glider ports, including one in Pennsylvania. You guessed it: the Ridge Soaring Gliderport that still operates just over the mountain from where we live was mentioned in one of his letters.
I try not to think about my dad very much, because again, his death just makes me so sad. However, it was a couple of weeks ago that John said to me, out of the blue, "I think your dad is watching over you and knows what is going on in your life." I couldn't process that statement, and I am reduced to tears now as I type it.
I don't know that I believe in spirits watching over us; it might happen, it might not. But today, on this beautiful day, I looked out the window and saw this:
Yes, if you look closely, it's a glider, and it looks remarkably like the one in which my dad died. I don't see them often, and I try not to invest much in what they represent to me. But if you believe in signs, or those kind of things, you might believe that it's my dad, reminding me that he's still here, aware of my life, reminding me that he loves me and in the words of John, watching over me.
But if not, that's okay too. If nothing else, it's a sweet reminder to me of a very happy moment in my life.
That is very sweet and I do feel like those signs are special reminders to us. I am sure your Dad is watching over you.
ReplyDelete