“Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow.”

Yesterday we had rain. I stayed around the house the whole day. The dogs went out into the yard. Neither one of them minds the rain. Today is cloudy. Snow is predicted for tomorrow, but, according to Google, we’re getting only an inch and a half. That hardly merits mention, but just in case, I asked Alexa. She is is predicting closer to three inches, not exactly a nor’easter.

I’m going out and about today, maybe even the dump, but I’m not sure, and I don’t want to raise your hopes.

My first airplane ride was an Easter gift when I was in college. There it was sticking out of my Easter basket. My parents had given me a ticket to Boston from Hyannis, a spectacular plane ride over the cape and the ocean just off shore. I tried to find my house by following Routes 6 and 28. I didn’t. I loved that plane ride. I was hooked.

My second plane ride was to Accra, Ghana from Philadelphia. The plane flew over the Cape. I tried to find my house. I didn’t. It took over ten hours, with a stop in Madrid, to get to Accra. We ate, we drank and we watched The Love Bug. None of us slept. I remember my seat belt got caught around my seat, and I couldn’t pull it free to use it. I remember the clinking of the glasses on the drink cart as it was pushed up the aisle. The aisle was busy. I remember running to the left side of the plane to see the Sahara. I was awed. There it was, the actual desert as far as we could see.

During my two years in Ghana, I would go on short hops from Tamale to Accra if I was in the money. I remember leaving Tamale after my two years for what I supposed was the last time. I put my head on the tray and quietly cried for the entire flight.

I flew from Niamey, Niger to Ougadougou, Burkina Faso (Upper Volta in my day) at the tail end of my vacation. I had gotten there overland, but I had gotten sick in Niamey and couldn’t face all that travel, hours of travel, so we flew. It was an Air France jet. Given the time change, we arrived in Ouga before we left Niamey. We stayed and slept at the Ouga airport as it had been the wee hours of the morning when we arrived.

Since then I have traveled. I have traveled in both prop and jet. I have been up in a balloon and in a helicopter. I have taken one cruise. I love trains and travel them whenever I can. I have to get back to Ghana one more time with my friends, Bill and Peg. I need to see my town and my students one more time. I’ll hold them close and keep them with me.

Explore posts in the same categories: Musings

3 Comments on ““Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow.””

  1. Christer. Says:

    Yesterday snow and just below 32, today sunny and down to 14F and tomorrow it’ll be just below 32 and snow again 🙂 Well I won’t be driving around so I don’t care to be honest. It was nice to see the sun shine though so one more day of that weather would have been quite ok 🙂

    Have a great day!


  2. Birgit Says:

    My first flight was to Canada when I was 12 and my last flight was to Denver in 2007, I remember the great view on your east coast and the Rockies but also the chaos at Newark, it was shortly after an attack at Glasgow airport and just before US Independence Day. I love to fly but haven’t done it since then. The most scary one was a flight to London in the 80’s, the plane was a quite old, loud and shaky, a small silver colored plane which looked like they borrowed it from a museum.
    Currently we have many empty flights just because of idiotic EU bureaucracy, about 18000 alone for the German main airline. It’s the same EU that allegedly wants to fight the climate crisis.

    Good luck on Ghana and please send snow if you have some flakes left!

  3. Bob Says:

    Hi Kat,

    Today was chilly but with mostly clear skies. We will get down into the mid 20s tonight. Our downstairs heater stopped working and the repairman will be here about eight in the morning. Thankfully, the upstairs heat is working.

    The first time I rode on an airplane was in 1954. My parents had relocated to Dallas while almost all our family was in Brooklyn New York. My father bought tickets on a nonscheduled airline called, North American. The plane was a WWII surplus C-54 which was the military version of the DC-4. In those days the airplane was unpressurized and we flew the long flight at about 8,000 ft. In those days the flight crew would invite the passengers to visit the cockpit. I got to sit on the pilot’s lap, look out the windshield, and listen to the Morse code on the radio. That’s when I decided to become a professional pilot. My first flight as a pilot was in 1965 in a Piper J3 Cub. This was the most fun. The Cub had no radio, no electrical system and flew at a repid 60 miles per hour. It looked like one of those rubber band powered gliders.

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