My father was the sweetest, kindest, most loving man. He served in World War II as a flight instructor to the pilots going to serve in the war. He said he never shot anyone down but he believed that he saved many lives by teaching his students how to fly in war situations.
Afterwards he flew Cessna, Moonies, and Piper Cub airplanes to take people on short trips and some long ones too. He taught people in a class about clouds and what their shape and height meant. I got to go to one of his classes and was amazed at the importance of learning about clouds when someone was a pilot. I have loved clouds ever since. I even take photos of clouds and sunsets.
Daddy took me up in a sail plane, glider once. The glider was pulled down the runway by a small airplane and released when the altimeter hit a certain height. I was amazed!! There was no engine sound! Just quiet flying like a bird! So peaceful!
My father wrote a poem about flying and I just found it again and want to share it with you all.
“Morning Flight” by James Theodore
There are many beauties in the sky, only seen by those who fly.
It’s hard to tell in simple words the things we share with only birds;
The tops of clouds and things seen by the eyes with the aid of wings.
A pilot goes up in the early morn to see the sunrise when day is born.
The clouds grow red and orange and gold as nature paints in colors bold,
With an unseen brush by an unseen hand on an endless canvas over the sleeping land.
Then signs of life begin to show in the quiet and sleepy world below,
From the lull and quiet of the finished night to the hustle ‘n bustle as the sun gets bright;
The clashing horn and the traffic light seem faraway to the one in flight.
–Inspired by and written during Flight Training in Greenville, Mississippi, USAF, 1942.–James Theodore (Copyrighted 1992)
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