December 21, 1988

Dear Friend,

It’s the season for stories, especially about babies. Also, Sue and I have been married for over a year. So here is a story we will share with you. Season’s greetings.

A New Baby

Seven rings before I hear a click. “Is he up yet?” I ask.

Sherry replies with a long drawn out “Noooo.” After a pause, indicating the early hour. “Do you want him to get up?”

“Well, he did want to go flying today.” I suggest. I have been up for an hour, already having read two articles from Air and Space magazine. Weekends don’t come as often as they should and need to be used wisely. For instance, last month a 1930 Monocoupe was available in Minnesota and it took the entire day to get there, see the plane, dine and visit with friends, then return home. Even with the best of planning both the trip there and home were against headwinds. It seems that whether one is a bicyclist or a pilot, a tailwind is encountered less often than the 50% it should be by chance.

We have no plans today but an early morning start is helpful to enjoy the entire day.

Sherry apparently nudged Marvin awake and after a few moments I hear “Where to today, Captain?”

“Go west young man, go west!” I reply. These words seem like good advice today, looking out the window. The western sky is clear blue. Some days it is best not to worry about the direction.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be out at the airport in 30 minutes after grits and a shower.” Marvin might skip the shower if some bad weather were setting in but wouldn’t think of starting the day without the grits. I fix French toast for Susan, served in bed, on these rare days.

Today is C.A.V.U., ceiling and visibility unlimited, or just plain beautiful. 30 minutes later I announce, “Brakes locked! Throttle cracked! Switch on!” Marvin pulls on the plane to be sure the brakes are locked, then swings the prop through on cylinder. It’s just right today. The engine fires, singing a deep bass rhythm at 700 RPM. Little did I know about the new child in our life as I began feeling the rhythm.

We reach cruising altitude shortly after takeoff. Unlike the heavies (big planes with lots of passengers), we would like to take in all of autumn. Staying low and slipping into the river valley a coyote darts from under a hedge and charges across a field of corn stubble. It would be difficult for him to hide from us. Birds have a certain advantage in their perspective. Today we share that view. While the coyote is a little nervous about our presence, a dozen Black Angus don’t give us a second thought. They continue chewing and only one even raises his head. He continues chewing though.

We enter a cut in the western cliffs. Several people wave from a lookout, which is to the sought and above us. With a little power we crest the bluffs and skim over a plateau. Shortly Mark Twain’s hamlet of Hannibal, Missouri appears.

“I believe we could use a snack and the plane a drink,” Marvin suggests.

We circle the airport and land to the south. The transition from flight to three-point landing is barely detectable. At the gas pumps the manager and a small crowd of Sunday fliers gather around. A biplane always seems to draw attention.

“What’s for sale today?” Marvin inquires.

The manager responds with “Gas and a plane in the back of that hanger.” He points to the large end hanger.

After topping the tank, we explore the hanger. It is a little dusty. In the back sits a 1947 Taylorcraft.

“It hasn’t moved since we were hear two years ago.” I note to no one in particular. For Marvin and I, exploring old hangers and checking out all leads on planes for sale is part of any flying trip. Careful inspection revealed the fabric to be in good condition and many parts to be original.

Before leaving we took down the owners name.

…

Three weeks later Sue and I were the proud parents of a 41-year-old baby, a 1947 Taylorcraft.

While it’s not exactly how we ended up with our first child, it’s close. Our parents might have been more excited if the child had been younger, say 9 months maybe. But for now, with two working and pursuing further education, we’re quite happy with our baby.

For myself in 1988, I’ll recall a delightful diversity of flying. Circling into Steamboat Springs, Colorado, a fairyland of white with rainbow colored balloons drifting over the snow covered village, twisting between giant 10,000 foot cumulus clouds in springtime Florida; sleeping out overnight at an airport in Alabama; test flying a new 200 mph kit built plane; 80 mph winds that tore up my tent in a thunderstorm at Oshkosh, Wisconsin; the darkest, clearest night with the most stars and meteors since I was in Alaska, on Washington Island in northern Lake Michigan; stories around the campfire with a WWI marine I took flying; picking up ice on my wings in the first winter clouds; photographing Sue through clouds of paint as we refinish our new baby; learning how to weld aluminum cowling from my friend Marvin; playing airplane with a young friend Andrew. It’s been a wonderful year.

Susan will remember the past year for a return to university. She is pursuing her Masters degree in Health Service Administration. The papers, midterms and finals continue to consume a large part of her extracurricular time. She does, however, manage to slip in the odd business trip. This year she ventured off to Toronto, her family’s home, twice (only once on official business). She traveled to meetings as close as Columbus, Ohio and as far away as Jerusalem, Israel. While in Israel she found some time to bathe and salt float in the Dead Sea, ride a camel, tour Nazareth, and shop until she dropped in Old Jerusalem and Tel Aviv.

Her gait analysis laboratory is busy. Numerous patients needing attention and research projects keep her schedule full. After work and school she relieves tension at The Club with aerobics. Susan is a powder hound and could be found glade skiing at Steamboat Springs, Colorado this past spring. Aprés ski found us in the hot tub with friends Kim and MaryAnn from Springfield sampling “Folie a Deux” or other fine wines. Later, we competed in and completed the Springfield Triathlon during the summer drought. With autumn’s colors bringing the reminder of our first anniversary, we bicycled Inn to Inn along the Mississippi bluffs. Now that her Christmas cookie baking and entertaining are finishing up she is packing off for Christmas in Pennsylvania and New Years in Toronto. She does love to travel.

We’ve had a wonderful 1988, an exceptional first year of marriage, and a pleasant fourth year in Springfield. We wish you and yours a happy, successful 1989.

Seasons greetings,

Sue and Jim Thomas