Sky’s the Limit

MacBaby Blog #6

Sky’s the Limit

Most of us who have flown in an airplane remember our first time flying. It was most likely, but not necessarily, when you were a kid. A little nervous, and a lot excited, I remember climbing up those steep metal stairs into this huge machine. For me it was 1956. I was 11 years old and flying from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania with my mother to visit my Aunt Evelyn in the Bronx, New York City. In those days everyone dressed for the flight. My mother had on a beautiful new blue suit she bought for the occasion. I remember her showing it to my Dad. He thought it was too tight. I thought she looked like a movie star. I was also wearing a suit, and tie. All the men were.

Back then flying had become a normal mode of transportation, but for some reason it was looked upon as a real “occasion”, so most folks dressed appropriately.

We had the very first seats on the left as we entered the plane. There were two seats to every row. I don’t remember how many rows there were but by today’s standards the whole lot of us would have fit in first class on a Boeing 747. I wanted the window seat more than life itself. “Imagine,” I thought to myself, “were going to be above buildings and everything.” So that’s where I sat. As I pressed my face into the window I could see the wing behind us. And the propeller. This plane had two. One on either side. The plane was so shiny and gleamed in the sun. I wondered if they washed it every day.

By the time we took off I was open-mouthed and wide-eyed. The feeling of liftoff was empowering, my face still pressed against the window. Up we went, over the buildings, just like I thought. And higher until I could see the clouds coming overhead. That’s when I realized that I hadn’t thought about clouds. What if they’re real thick? What if they make the propellers stop? What if the pilot can’t see where we’re going and we crash into something…I didn’t know what. Then we began to cut into them. It was like a mist at first, and then so thick I could no longer see the earth or the sky. Where were we? It seemed like forever that we climbed blindly through the thick haze until we slowly made our way through, above and beyond the final tendrils. There was the sky, above. And below, the clouds. We were almost in outer space. And safe.

The plane had leveled off and we were whirring noisily through the air. My mother broke my revery, tapping me on the shoulder to ask me if I wanted something to drink. They serve drinks up here? Milk, please. I went back to the window.

Since that time I have flown probably close to a million miles. I’ve been to Europe a couple of times, Korea, Japan, Philippines, and all over this country including Hawaii. There are many wondrous things about flying. The machinery itself is amazing. And the people on the plane conjure up all kinds of images to me. But, in my eyes, the clouds are still the most beautiful part of the flight.

On my way back from a recent trip to San Francisco to spend some time with my friends John and Barbie Nemerovski I was lucky enough to have a flight which would have the sun setting in the west as we flew eastward towards Nashville. And, of course, I had a window seat. Not too far from the west coast the cloud cover started looking real interesting to me. So I got out my Fuji E550 and started taking pictures. I probably took 30 or 40 shots all the way to Nashville as the light changed and the colors appeared. My seat mate probably thought I was nuts taking pictures of the clouds and sky. Think again. Check these pictures out, and the next time you’re on a plane and have the opportunity to watch the world go by as the sun sets watch the big show for yourself. There are many beautiful things in the world, but none of them is any more awe inspiring than the clouds and the sky, especially when lit by the setting sun. For me, it’s always like the first time. Fantastic, just like when I was a kid.