Ever So Near

CHAPTER 1

It was 1958. I was seventeen and about to graduate from Easton High School in Ft. Wayne, Indiana. It was spring, late May to be exact. The day was warm enough for a light jacket and the strong morning sun streamed into the cockpit of the L16 that I was flying. Though quite unusual for a girl to be taking flying lessons, there I was, at 3,000 feet, listening to Nick, the middle aged man to my right say, “Keep your eye on the horizon.” I had a tendency to go into a climb if not paying attention. My mind would occasionally wander back to the times when, as a little girl, while playing outside with my friends, I would stop to look up to the sky to watch the small airplanes taking off from the private airport near my home, circling, then landing. The other kids didn’t pay much attention to them but I was fascinated. Always the adventurer, I envied the student pilots overhead, wishing I were old enough to take lessons and fly to some wonderful place far away. Now it was my time.

Nick had been a fighter pilot in World War II and still wore his Army issued leather jacket with the Army Air Core patch on the right sleeve and the silver wings above the left pocket. He talked often about his service in the core and had said that being a flight instructor was the next best thing. Though a little gruff, I think deep down he liked teaching and spending time with anyone who loved to fly.

This was my day to land a plane for the first time. I had taken off many times without help. Just get the speed up until you feel a lift, then pull back on the stick with all your strength. If all goes well, you’re airborne. Today was much scarier. Landing was serious business. With youthful enthusiasm and a sense of infallibility, I looked for familiar landmarks to identify the small airport just southeast of my house. We flew over my neighborhood with its mature trees and well-manicured lawns surrounding the Brookhaven Country Club golf course that my family enjoyed. Looking down to my left, it was fun to see the home where I grew up. A winding driveway led up to the white L-shaped brick house. The swimming pool in the back had just been opened for the summer and the fresh blue water gave a stunning splash of color against the green grass and white house. The pool was enclosed with a tall black wrought-iron fence.

Just past the creek separating the tenth tee from the ninth green was a cluster of white wooden buildings housing small airplanes. Spotting the runway, I gently pushed forward on the stick, then down on the left rudder petal to go into a circle pattern, lowering the altitude. After circling the runway five or six times, while carefully going over in my head everything I had been taught, I looked over at Nick. He nodded. That was my signal. Lowering the air speed to just enough push to stay up and lining up with the runway by right, then left rudder to stay level, I went for it. Pushing forward on the stick, down we went. My heart was pounding and my palms were wet as the runway came closer and closer. Was I going too fast? No, Nick hadn’t said anything yet, so… so far… I have to have enough speed to stay up. Oh God! There’s the ground closing in. Pull up! Pull up! Stay level; don’t let the nose dip. At that moment I wanted to close my eyes but then thought better of it.

The ground met the wheels with a slight bump, then bounce, then bump. Pushing forward on the stick with all my might and pulling back hard on the throttle, with feet riveted to the rudders, we came to a stop just inches from the end of the runway. Five more feet and we would have been in a cornfield. It took a few seconds for me to realize that we had made it before I could breathe again and let go of the controls. Giving Nick a big hug, I knew I did okay because he smiled. Maybe he was just glad to be alive but he smiled.

Turning the plane around, we taxied back to the hanger, where I received several “congratulations” from the guys. I really wanted to practice landing several more times but today I had to hurry back home. My best friend Sandy and her dad Charles were picking me up at noon to go up to Lake James. Her dad was getting his boat out of storage and ever since she and I had met at St. Patrick’s Catholic School in the fifth grade, we looked forward to this spring ritual. We loved to help Charles get the boat ready for summer.

Climbing into my mother’s Buick parked by the fence along the hangars, I headed home. Feeling really good about myself, I was anxious to tell Mom and Sandy all about my outstanding skill as a pilot. Never mind that I managed to take up the whole runway. I was ready to conquer the world. I was invincible. Nothing could hold me back now. The radio was playing a Johnny Mathis song, “Chances Are”. I loved listening to him and sang along with every note. I felt great.

Pulling into my driveway, I saw a familiar car. Sandy and Charles had arrived. They were inside waiting for me and talking to my mother, Nell. It was Saturday and my stepfather was playing golf.