Boomer Chick Musings

(I wrote this for my weekly real estate blog post tonight and decided it might be worth sharing it to the boomer group). As I descended something didn't seem quite right.  I felt like I wanted to just drift.  But that's not the smart way to fly a plane.  I knew it - but it was hard to get a grip on my thinking. I'd been flying one of the tow planes, hauling gliders into the wild blue yonder on a busy day at Sky Sailing Airport in Fremont, CA.  I was fortunate to be able to jump between motor-powered and non-powered aircraft throughout the day, depending on my teaching schedule. Once the sailplane released the towline it was 'get the tow plane down and get the next glider up.' In order to avoid having the engine cool too quickly we made descents at high power settings (not to be confused with high speeds) so we wouldn't crack the hot cylinder heads due to quick cooling temperature changes. As I circled in a spiral, first in one direction and

Splice: to join two ropes by intertwining the strands. Marilyn, I have something for you.  My dad wanted you to have it.  See you back at the house. Hmmm.  Wonder what that could be. There are two men who have framed my life.  The first was my late husband, Carl.  The second was Bud Murphy.  The first inadvertently introduced me to the second.  And now they are both gone.  Carl in 2002, and Bud this year. Within a year of getting married, Carl decided that we must be extravagant with the $40 per month he got from a five and a half year stint with the local Navy reserve unit.  He hated the reserves so much that to spend the money on something we needed seem sinful.  And we needed everything.  So what to do?  Take glider flying lessons. His dad, an airline pilot, had taught Carl to fly when he was 15.  Carl asked for the keys to the plane instead of the keys to the car because he was licensed to fly before he was licensed to drive. Dick also introduced him to glider (sailplane) f