Wings Over the Rockies...and Baseball!

My dad has always liked airplanes.

He was born shortly after Eddie Rickenbacker and pals had whupped the Huns, and flying machines were making the transition from wire, wood, and fabric into the shiny metal glamour birds that could lift you up and take you anywhere at fantastic speeds. As a boy working on the farm outside of Stafford, Kansas, he would look up in wonder whenever aircraft passed over, and he listened to radio tales and read all he could about the pioneering designers who had made human flight possible. He told his parents and his friends, "Someday I'll work with airplanes. Someday I'll fly!"

Through hard work and dedicated study, he eventually achieved both of those goals. Despite the horrendous disadvantage of attending Kansas State University instead of a decent school, he somehow managed to overcome his educational institution mistake and eventually obtain a job as a design engineer with Boeing. Over the next couple of decades, he wholeheartedly participated in advancing the state of aircraft excellence, and managed to take numerous cross-country flights on commercial planes. During World War II, he tried several times to join the military...hoping for a shot at becoming a pilot. Each time, he was denied enlistment because he was considered too valuable as an engineer: Uncle Sam needed guys who could build planes as badly as they needed the flyboys.

But he didn't give up. Finally, in the 1970s, he reached a point where he could manage the time and resources to study for and earn his pilot's license. He flew in single-engine Cessna planes, and zipped through the air over all parts of Kansas and Oklahoma, both for business and personal pleasure.

I rode with him a few times. It would be inaccurate to call him an ace pilot, and would probably be a stretch to even deem him proficient. But there was no denying his enthusiasm and joy in taking to the skies. His passion and focus had allowed him to bring his boyhood dreams to fruition.

Age and circumstances caught up with him, and at 92 he's a few decades past his flying days. But he still enjoys the beauty and freedom represented by the hardware and technology. So while he was in Colorado, my brother and I took him to the Wings Over the Rockies Air and Space Museum.



It's basically just a big warehouse full of flying stuff from biplanes through to rockets. (Um, no...the R2 unit in the back of the X-Wing wasn't functional. Sorry.)

Each display had a nice placard explaining the history, but there wasn't a lot of technical information about the planes. But it did bring back some memories for my dad, especially the Boeing B-52 bomber that was sitting in front of the building. He used to design avionics for that airplane, and he had always thought it was a pretty cool bird.



My brother enjoyed seeing some of the aircraft he had become familiar with in the Marine Corps, particularly the Phantom fighter jet. [Side note: I know that Veteran's Day is still a couple of months away, but that's no reason not to thank a veteran for his or her service whenever you get the opportunity. Today would be a good time to extend your hand to a serviceperson and let them know you appreciate what they've done for our country.]

As for me, well, I enjoyed seeing some hardware from programs I worked on while at Martin Marietta and Lockheed Martin. But I cracked up when I saw this binder sitting in the back of a Hawker-Beechcraft Model 18. When I was at Beech, one of my duties was to order these binders from vendors, and I spent an awful lot of my time inserting revision pages into those exact same notebooks. One of the perks of the job was that I got to take any damaged binders home for personal use; and at one time I probably had an entire case of the darn things. I will never forget the smell of newly-molded vinyl that hits you when you open binder boxes fresh from the factory.

I was very proud of my dad for his ability to tour the museum for a couple of hours, and then still have the pep to walk into Coors Field and then up and down stadium steps to get to our seats at the Rockies game later that evening. It was a good game for the Rockies, and we were treated to another glorious Colorado evening at the nation's best ballpark. Dad was pretty tired at the end of the day, but seemed to enjoy every minute of all the day's activities.

After the game, I left Dad with Pat and Liane, and headed home to begin my preparations for the trip to Seattle. Pat had the duty of returning Dad to Wichita at the end of the week, because of my scheduled trip to visit Tanner. We're all expecting to get together again, soon, though, since there's a surprise birthday party for my sister coming up on September 1st. So, with my voyage to the Northwest and another trip to Kansas on the calendar, I'll have plenty of other adventures to share soon. Until then, think about those airplane dreamers whenever you hear the sounds of engines overhead...and have a great day!

Dinner with Dad

My dad's visit to Colorado began with the long drive across Kansas followed by a brief stopover at my home. After that, though, his adventures in Colorado were mostly hosted by my brother Pat and his wife Liane. I'm sure Dad would rather spend the time exclusively with me, since I'm so much more handsome, intelligent, and witty than my younger sibling...but unfortunately, my work schedule and non-guest-friendly condo made such an arrangement impractical. And besides, Pat and Liane are far better at entertaining than I am, and far more capable of dealing with the logistical and emotional challenges presented by a geriatric out-of-towner.

And...Liane also happens to be an excellent cook. On Monday evening, she prepared a delicious pizza dinner and we all enjoyed a lovely meal complete with wonderful evening weather and delightful conversation on the comfortable patio.

Next up for Dad: a trip to the Wings Over the Rockies airplane museum, and an evening at a Rockies baseball game. Stayed tuned for that report, coming soon. In the meantime, savor your pizzas and these gorgeous Colorado evenings, and have a great day!

World Travels

Most of my weekend was spent enjoying the vast open vistas along I-70 between Denver and Wichita. My dad asked me how many times I've made that drive, and I estimated the answer to be somewhere around 100. I know the road pretty well...and as long as I have a functioning air-conditioner, decent sunglasses, and something energetic to crank up on the radio, I can handle it just fine.

Other than the gigantic and ever-expanding wind farm just west of Salina, the scenery remains pretty much as it has been since I first made the trip as a youth. Farms, religious billboards, the occasional construction cones, and of course, the World's Largest Prairie Dog -- the sights of I-70 have become embedded in my subconscious like a familiar piece of uncomfortable furniture, or an old song that you never really liked but now know oh so well.

There probably were twice as many windmills as I had seen on my last trip. I have no problem with that. The wind is gonna blow across there -- we might as well capture the energy. And I actually enjoy the aesthetics of the darn things. There's a particular grace to their dance as the gargantuan blades spin under nature's pressure. If you stood directly beneath one, it would probably feel like an Edgar Allen Poe nightmare device threatening to cleave the world atwain with each whooshing revolution, but at a distance, they're reminiscent of a picnic where all the kids are blowing on pinwheels.

Other than the sprouting of the wind farms, the only noticeable landmark change has been the disappearance of the Bear House at Bunker Hill. For decades, the restaurant beside the road boasted a cage with a couple of live black bears, which provided the appeal to pull off the road in what is essentially the middle of nowhere. Legend has it that Muhammad Ali once pulled in there for a sandwich, and had his photo taken with the bears. Whether it was just that the bears got too old, or whether PETA pressures shut them down, I don't know. But there appears to be no more bear-related restaurants anywhere along the road. Bummer.

Anyway, I was merely performing a "Transporter" mission. Get there, pick up the patriarch, and head home. I'd stay the night, just so I could get enough sleep to make the drive safely. (I can no longer duplicate the feat I did when in college; where I drove from Lawrence KS to Denver and back by myself within a 24-hour period. I stopped only long enough to attend a Blue Oyster Cult concert, then turned around and headed home without sleeping. That was probably pretty dumb, but I was young and energetic, and I really enjoyed seeing BOC live.)

Because I didn't have to be in Wichita early, I took the time to go for a bike ride with Kim starting at sunrise on Saturday morning. We rode up Highgrade Road and came home through CityView for a nice workout before I had to leave. I finally was able to get a fairly decent photo as Kim pulled into the schoolhouse at the top of the mountain:



My dad is 92 years old, and is doing pretty well. His hearing isn't great, so it's a bit tough to converse at times, but we did manage to get in a good chat during the drive back west. We talked about some of his previous travels, and especially about the time he attended the Paris air show. And when we arrived back at my condo, we turned on the closing ceremonies of the Olympics, which went to great effort to capsulize the culture of Great Britain. It made me realize that I haven't traveled as much as I'd like lately. In my opinion, making the same trip back and forth across western Kansas 100 times just doesn't count as bonafide tourism.

(On a related topic, did everyone else find the closing ceremonies to be as delightfully baffling as I did? I had no idea what was going on, and couldn't begin to speculate what sorts of drugs the organizers had ingested when they thought up this bizarre spectacle...but it made me laugh. The flying Scottish saxophonist was my favorite part. What the heck was that all about?)

As least I'll be traveling to Seattle soon. The primary goal is to visit my son, of course, but I'm hoping to visit some cool local attractions and geographical sights while I'm there.

But first, I'm going to hang out with my dad a bit while he's in town. I'll let you know about those adventures as they unfold. In the meantime, enjoy your travels, wherever they may take you. Have a great day!

Photography

One of the best things about living in modern times is the ubiquitousness of photography. Digital cameras are excellent and inexpensive, and even telephones are capable of better photos than you could get from your old Instamatics just a few years ago.

So why do I find myself sitting here typing, without the photos I want to use to illustrate my main topics of the day? After all, I possess multiple cameras, a couple of which are pretty high quality -- but none of them do me any good when they're sitting in a bag at home while I'm out and about, wanting to take pictures. Sigh.

Perhaps I'll take some appropriate photos to illustrate my topics in a future post. But the things I wanted to share are these:

For some reason, I've worn the "N" label off the keyboard on both my home and office computer. I know that "N" is a pretty common letter, behind T, S, and R...but the T, S, and R keys appear to be pristeen. What is it, then, about the N that makes it susceptible to typing-driven erosion? I have no idea.

The other news is that I received my Nike "Go the Distance" mesh bag in the mail. It's a nice bag, and I'd love to show you a photo, but you'll just have to take my word for it. I received it as a reward for swimming 250 miles so far in 2012. I'll get a new swimsuit if I make 500 miles by the end of the year. I'd like to do that, but it'll mean increasing my swim yardage significantly throughout the remainder of the year.

Earlier in the year, I was thinking that I'd get a yardage bump from lake swimming during the summer, but it hasn't worked out that way. I've only been out to Chatfield a handful of times. The weather has been a factor, and so has work. There might be a teeny tiny contribution from "laziness", as well, but whatever the cause, the anticipated summer yardage spike hasn't materialized. So, for the rest of the year, I either need to swim more days per week, increase yardage on the days I do swim, or both.

Anyway, the point is that swimming 250 miles is a small price to pay for earning a $9 bag to hold your wet swimming gear. Right?

It's a good program. If you haven't joined "Go the Distance" this year, you should definitely sign up when the next period begins in January, 2013.

OK. I wasn't planning to say anything about it, since it's so obvious...but several people asked me to explain the connection between Jim Phelps and Ben Franklin. (By the way, can anyone explain to me how the smoke coming from inside the tape recorder resulted in the "self-destruction" of the tape itself? I never quite got that.)

Sorry, but the connection is not that Phelps is played by actor Peter Graves, and that Ben is dead, and therefore also in a grave. That's not good Kevin Baconing, since every dead guy would therefore be related to Pete. The real connection is that Peter Graves is the brother of James Arness (aka Matt Dillion, aka CarrotMan from "The Thing"), and the Franklin Mint (which was named after Ben) features a lovely collectible plate featuring Mr. Arness. You may purchase one here.

As for our Olympic graphical challenge, well, people didn't do very well. I'll admit that this one may have been somewhat challenging, especially for the younger folks. But as always, the fact that you tried has stretched and strengthened your brain, and you're a better person for having made the attempt. Right?

Row 1 contains Misty May Treanor, a volleyball star with amazing reflexes and acrobatic ability. Next to her is the perpertually endangered Aunt May Parker, whose nephew is the Amazing Spiderman, who could easily win volleyball gold if he weren't so busy saving the world from Lizards, Octopi, Goblins, and other sundry beasties.

Row 2 features speedy Jamaican Usain Bolt, along with actor Robert Brown in his role as Jason Bolt, the eldest of the Bolt Brothers, who were romantically challenged lumber company proprietors in the TV series "Here Come the Brides". You may also recognize Brown from his Star Trek role as "Lazarus", a questionably-bearded alien who fought an eternal interdimensional battle with his evil doppleganger.

Row 3 features Gabby Douglas, the charismatic Olympic gymnast, and George "Gabby" Hayes, the prototype for the grizzled old coot sidekick that became a staple of cinema westerns. Hayes appeared with Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers, and Gene Autry, among others, and was the inspiration for the passionate courtroom speech in Blazing Saddles.

On Row 4 we have Katie Ledecky, the gold medalist in the 800m freestyle, and one of my newest swimming heroes. At 15, she was the youngest member of the US Team, and her 'damn the torpedoes' attitude was truly inspiring to watch. To her right is Colorado's own inspiring distance role model, Katie Oglesby. As an ultra-running enthusiast and evangelist, she motivates people by tackling incredibly difficult 100-mile races, and then writing about it in her blog, runlongkatie.com.

And the final row contains hurdler Lolo Jones, and singer Eduard Khil (aka "The Trololo" guy). I don't know why the song that made him famous became known as "Trololo", since it's actual title translates as "I Am Glad, 'Cause I'm Finally Returning Back Home", but I do know that if I ever get drunk enough to try karaoke, that's the song I want to sing.

If that ever happens, I'll be sure to remember to take a camera, and then post the video on YouTube. In the meantime, enjoy the rest of the Olympics, and have a great day!

Olympic Observations

Phelps and Franklin aside, the Olympics have provided much food for thought.

I had written an insightful and poignant blog about the Olympian ideals, and about how I've reset some of my own personal goals after having been inspired by watching the competitions. The piece was brilliant and moving, and surely would've motivated you to achieve more in your own athletics, and in your personal life. But somehow, I managed to delete it.

Sorry.

So, instead of prize-winning journalism, I'm going to fill this space with bullet points about my more inane Olympic observations.

• I have enjoyed some of the commercials, especially the one where Lochte swims across the ocean, and all of those in which Morgan Freeman talks. I even like the ones where the kids write down the new world record as their goal. (Of course, if I was their coach, I'd tell 'em to set a goal that's at least a tenth of a second faster than the WR...but if they want to settle for a tie, well, whatever.) The problem is that I have no idea what any of these commercials were selling. The only ads where I remember the sponsor were the GoDaddy "Inside/Outside" ads, and though they amuse me, I doubt I'll be purchasing their services.


• OK, I guess I have had the urge to eat mor chiken lately. But as much as I'm motivated by fear of renegade cows, I have to admit that the main reason I feel like eating there is to show support for every American's right to free speech.


• Unsolicited advice: If I were a star volleyball player who makes a lot of money off endorsements, I'd try a little harder not to offend the 99% of the world who don't like the stupid Dodgers.


• Distance races are more fun to watch than sprints; I think we can all agree on that. As for the widely-publicized reports that distance athletes are more intelligent, better looking, and far more lovable in every way than sprinters are, well, I'll let you draw your own conclusions.


• Is it just me, or do the competitors from the Commie countries seem to have less fun than regular people?


• And speaking of world cultures, don't you just love the variety of names you encounter during these events? With names like "Meb", "Cullen", and the various transmogrifications of "Long Duk Dong", there's a never-ending parade of linguistic novelty to be savored. I had thought that "Van Den Hoogenband" would remain at the top of my favorite names list indefinitely, but he just got aced out by a fellow Netherlandian. Let's all say it together now: "Kromowidjojo". Just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? (Bonus points for anyone who can work it into a conversation, preferably in a way that involves obscure autoparts. "There's yer problem, Zeke. Ya gots a vapor leak in yer kromowidjojo.")

That's all I have time for today. I shall leave you with another graphical quiz: See if you can match the Olympian in the top row with the appropriate person in the second line. (As always, you can click to enlarge it.) Answers tomorrow. Have a great day!