My Grandfather
My father's father. Another man I know little about; more so these days after the death of my grandmother. This is where the family tree was grafted--my grandmother was the direct descendant of the Creek Indian lineage, and the Indian flavorer of my genes. My grandfather comes from this English-Irish coalition of antebellum landowners.

My grandfather died young; my father was 18. It's always I think confounded my father, sailing in waters uncharted by several generations--the relationship of a father to a son. My feelings were ambivalent towards my grandfather: until I came across the pictures after my grandmother's death.


The South Seas, China in the 1930's, Panama, Alaska, my grandfather saw them all. He enlisted in the Navy in about 1929, there's a picture of him, scrawny and posed, with his parents in hard scrabble surroundings at the beginning of the great Depression. After that, there are a number of pictures in more exotic surroundings. He apparently had a proclivity for photography, which is saying something for back then. The sheer number of pictures stands as testament to his dedication. Most are also carefully dated.

Just before World War II, my grandfather qualified for a unique program, to become a Mustang. He was admitted into the naval flight program as an enlisted man. This resulted in an officer's commission. Oddly, it was a perceived step backwards. Understand, he went from a Master Chief--the unwritten bosses of the Navy, to an Ensign. But he got his wings.

He flew DC-3s, PBY's and the Ford Tri-motor. He might have flown other planes that I don't even know about. He fought in World War II, flying anti-sub patrols out of the Aleutian Islands. After the war, he was stationed in Hawaii, where my young father picked up spent shell cases remaining from the Pearl Harbor Attack. He was in Cuba (during the rule of Fulgencio Batista--pre-Castro) and posed for a picture at the bar of Sloppy Joe's.

He retired as a Commander, not bad for the skinny kid who had nothing but his own wits and skill to guide him.

My gliding instructor said I had a real feel for flying. I'd like to think it was inherited.