Memory Lane, Part One

Your Humble Scribe, command pilot, The Olde Vermonter in the right seat.

That photo from a Christmas long ago, early 60s I'm guessing, shows Your Humble Scribe and kid brother, The Olde Vermonter, showing off their no doubt newly acquired Steve Canyon helmets, complete with visors and oxygen masks. As you'll note I am gripping the imaginary control wheel and am checking for bandits in the sun.

The Olde Vermonter, like good co-pilots everywhere, has his hands in his lap, keeping his mitts away from the controls, and is scanning a different quadrant than his pilot. Or he could be asleep, it was a long time ago. But he certainly was obeying the following dictum -

(Source)

Note as well that we're probably bomber pilots, B-52 I would guess, and we're in comfortable chairs. Though I wonder at the foreshadowing of me in a rocker. Yes, I'm old now, but I'm not that old. And yes, flight suits had plaid shirts back in the day, and jeans with suspenders, I'm sure of it.

While not a Christmas memory, I like the memory sparked by this picture -

Aerobatics and formation flying in an antique aircraft high above the forests of Massachusetts (near Fitchburg for those who are wondering). Thirty minutes of barrel rolls, split-Ss, loops, and Immelmann turns. Most fun you can have with your clothes on. (Ooh, did I just type-speak-write that out loud?)

But memories, I'm here to write about memories, specifically those surrounding this time of year. I was going to rerun this post, which is a really fond memory of the first time I spent a Christmas at my kids' place. The Nuke and The WSO were sharing a town house in Virginia Beach at the time, it was a lot of fun. My daughters were out on their own, living large. The Nuke had a little tree set up and lovingly decorated. Such good times. Go read that post, I'll wait here...

Back already? Let's continue.

The Missus Herself and I have spent a number of Christmases down in the Old Dominion, a few in the Norfolk/Virginia Beach area and a few up in the DC area, to include last year's trip to Annapolis. One memory, which actually occurred after Christmas when we met up with The WSO and her tribe, to include her in-laws down from Michigan, at The Nuke's place for New Year's, always makes me chuckle.

We were being shown the sights of Alexandria, still decked out in Christmas lights, marveling at the actual gas lights which still adorn some of the houses in Old Town, when out of a side street, some idiot pulled right in front of us, nearly causing a collision.

Now know this, The Missus Herself seldom indulges in foul language or cursing (though when she's really mad at me, I've heard Korean words which I'm pretty sure would make a longshoreman blush). She almost never cusses in English, save for the very rare "damn it." But there we are, enjoying the Christmas lights and reminiscing about Christmases past when the kids were young, when suddenly we're nearly in a collision.

As the offending car sped away and we all sort of sat there in shock, out of the mouth of my lovely wife we all heard...

"Well, Merry freaking Christmas..."

To this day, whenever the season of good will on Earth and Peace and Joy comes around, The WSO, The Nuke, and I will look at each other and say -

"Merry freaking Christmas!"

The Missus Herself, though somewhat embarrassed by the memory of her blurting that out, will at least smile and shake her head. Whilst remarking that her two daughters and, of course, her husband, that would be Your Humble Scribe, are indeed, idiots.

May you find laughter and joy this holiday season.

I'm pretty sure I will...