My sentimental journey recalls the sessions with my father, who told me of his younger years. He was stationed in Texas during his pilot training. On one occasion they were flying over a church revival tent. He and his wingman flew in low over the massive tent. Of course, this caused the canopy to updraft and flap back. Imagine the scared people inside. The airmen found it humorous, but the worshippers got the last laugh.
As the young pilots returned for a reprise an observer recorded their wing numbers and called them into the naval base. My father never flew again and was relegated to working with radar the rest of his naval career.
How I miss those chats and his antics.

Happy Dae·