Summer breeze
Makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
-Seals and Croft
Max settled back down next to me. My refreshed drink helped restart the reminiscing. As it was still Memorial Day my
thoughts turned to the reason we had this day off. As my summers would march on from this day, the weekend
following I would pay tribute.
There is a yearly event in Reading, PA at the Mid Atlantic Air Museum where
they transform their tarmac back in time.
It is the annual World War II Weekend, and of course I would attend.
With Memorial Day now in the rearview mirror, I headed off
to Pennsylvania to rendezvous with college comrades. Catching up with them at happy hour of their Friday
furlough, we would formulate the weekend’s plan of attack. On Saturday morning we headed to
Reading Regional Airport, but when we arrived it would be Spaatz Field and the
1940’s. Planes buzzed overhead, as
you made your way through the military encampments below. Over the loud speakers you could listen
to Glen Miller's band…and it was better than before. Re-enactors were everywhere…armed and ever playing the
part. You felt that you were the
one out of time and place. In the
hangar however, were the real heroes.
Lines formed for a handshake, a photo and an autograph…and an all around
“Thank You” for allowing us to be here today.
One of those times I had the opportunity to meet Captain
Morgan. No, not the pirate of rum
fame. This was Captain ROBERT
Morgan; pilot of the famous plane made movie, Memphis Belle…where a young
Matthew Modine amply portrayed him.
There was some playful banter between Captain Morgan and a P-51 pilot
located at another table. Morgan
was the more stoic of the two and rarely took the bait. Realizing he was the instigator, the
P-51 pilot proudly proclaimed…”We fighter pilots are all pompous jerks, and
that helped keep us alive in those hostile skies”. Morgan nodded in agreement, as he knew they had bailed out
his bombers many a time. If you
did not see the movie Memphis Belle, it was centered on the first bomber crew to
complete its tour of duty…25 missions.
Not one had ever survived that many before. Obviously, they made it…otherwise no movie…and more
importantly, no Captain Robert Morgan sitting in front of me. What the movie did not tell you was
even more amazing about this gentleman.
After he completed the 25 missions, and after being sent home as a hero
and selling war bonds for the cause…he went back. He would fly an additional 24 bombing missions over Japan.
In the summers following, I would go back excited to see him
again. One year when I arrived, I
noticed something was not quite right.
His booth was there, but gone were the lines of people, the
photographers, the autograph seekers…and Captain Robert Morgan himself. During that year, we had lost our hero
to time…and somehow our society failed to let us all know. Well, I am doing that now.
On Sunday of the same weekend, in the neighboring area, was
the Manayunk bicycle race. Nice…a
two-fer! This event is a scenic 156-mile classic through the city
and outlying suburbs of Philadelphia.
It is revered as the longest running and most important single-day road
race in the country. This year
there was a pre-race buzz. A young all-America bike rider, a 21-year-old
Texan, a professional for only nine months, was competing…Lance Edward Armstrong.
Our Sunday would start Saturday night…and as any race
enthusiast would tell you, it is the party before the party that counts. The town of Manayunk was shut down to
traffic in preparation. The
streets were prepped for the race and those lucky to live along the path put
forth the parties. My friend knew
the locals so we were invited to partake. Come Sunday morning, I was told there is only one
place to see the race…the top of “The Wall”. While it sounds innocent enough, upon seeing it, Roger
Waters might have altered his lyrics.
The Manayunk Wall is a cruel,
thigh-shredding half-mile uphill incline.
I was amazed they had to cycle up this, then I was more amazed to learn
I would have to walk up it!
Sunday morning
arrived, and me and my hangover headed up “The Wall” to our pre-race
positioning. While this half mile
incline may not seem like much, walk it some day…dehydrated from the night
before, lugging a wheel-less cooler of beer, in 80+ degree sticky Philly suburb
weather…then get back to me. By
mid morning we would arrive at our perch.
Directly a top “The Wall” was a VFW. It was opened to the public and provided restrooms, but with
a catch…you would have to buy one of their beers first. Yep, I accept your terms. On the first lap I realized the pot of
gold at the end of our rainbow.
While those who sat low, or on street corners or straight-aways caught a
fleeting glimpse…”The Wall” provided us with a still shot. As the cyclers reached the pinnacle of
their struggle up the incline, it was like they were motionless…hanging in mid
air. They would be able to hear
every decibel of your encouragement.
You could easily identify the riders…and the one we all came to
see...and Lance Armstrong would
win the race easily that day.
We would have many
years with the flying and cycling summer weekend. I had always found it fitting to combine the two since the
Wright Brothers were originally bicycle makers. They used this endeavor to fund their growing
interest in flight. This one weekend
however, would be the only special weekend to combine two legends, Captain
Robert Morgan and Lance Armstrong.
I am going to go out on a limb and guess which one you knew about before
this blog…
Max and I now both
had to pee…one of us used the bathroom, the other the bushes…at this point I am
not sure who did which. I returned
to my chaise lounge to continue my journey. As Max arrived back, I patted my own little legend on his
head.
I sat there
disappointed that this weekend did not include the local Jones Beach airshow. But as I reminisced, I was glad I was
able to attend the one held years earlier in Reading.
Before I missed a chance to meet a hero.
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