On a cold winter night you go looking for warmth wherever you can find it.  One great place for me is my pictures which, for the most part, are taken on nice sunny days.

This one is actually from a September evening but does a good job of making forget the current cold spell.  Taken in Gatineau Quebec during the Wings Over Gatineau show put on by Vintage Wings of Canada and EAA.  Dan Dempsey at the controls of the Discovery Air Hawk One Sabre and Paul Kissman piloting the spectacular Corsair perform an early evening flyby with the setting sun providing remarkable highlights (check the Corsair’s prop).

Groundschool that is.  I’m probably crazy for this but I signed up to take a pilot course for the T-33 Silver Star jet trainer put on by the Jet Aircraft Museum.  The course is compulsory for pilots wishing to fly the museum’s jets but is also available to others who plan on riding the backseat or are just interested. 

I fall into the last 2 categories which is why I’m willing to subject myself to studying all the documentation, writing 2 exams and attending 2 days of instruction next weekend.

I will never fly one of these on my own – I dropped out of my training for the Private Pilot License but they say any learning is good and this certainly qualifies as something different.

What’s a CT-133 Silver Star you ask?  They look something like this

(of course most are either silver or grey)

 This looks to be a year of profound change on a personal level and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit apprehensive about the future.

I wish you peace and happiness and interesting days.

New posting app. Test

There’s no chance of Eddie and the family showing up in the motorhome but we are now officially enjoying our Christmas vacation.  2 weeks away from that which pays the bills but brings little stimulation or enjoyment.

Our cat Maggie.  Yes, she is just as evil as this picture makes her appear.

Yesterday the sands of time trickled past another one of those milestones that cause you to pause and take stock of things. 

December the 10th 1951 dropped a little screaming bundle into the lives of Mary Maxine and George Edward Mist.  It was about –2C in Peterborough Ontario with a trace of snow when I came along.  Harry S. Truman was the US President and Louis St. Laurent was the Canadian Prime Minister.  World War II had been over for 6 years but soldiers had found a new place to die – Korea.  Wikipedia tells me that Doug  Allder, an English footballer, was born on the same day but that no one worth mentioning died (I’m sure tens of thousands of grieving family members on that day would beg to differ).  I Love Lucy premiered in 1951 and Joe DiMaggio would retire from baseball on the 11th of December.

My childhood was tumultuous to say the least.  Ted, my dad, was always chasing the dream job so we moved very frequently. My mom, dear sweet Maxine, trudged behind him with 2 young bewildered children forced to constantly say goodbye to friends.  Ontario, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, Ontario(again) and finally British Columbia before I finally said enough and threw down a small anchor in the dirt.  The family moved back to Ontario and I was left to start making my own mistakes and life choices.  Some good friends with some dodgy habits.  A crummy job followed by one that was less crummy.  A marriage that, looking back through the eyes of maturity, had no business happening and was surpassed in stupidity only by the first guy to utter those famous words “Hold my beer and watch this!”.  That adventure lasted 13 months, ended badly and caused me to grow up a whole lot in a short period of time.

This brings us all the way to 1973.  British Columbia had lost its appeal and there was talk of an opportunity back in Ontario where my father was still dreaming his dreams but by now had just enough money to be able to entice his son back home.  So, I loaded up my nearly new Ford Pinto (stop snickering!!) with all my worldly possessions, which weren’t much after the marriage breakup, and drive all the way from North Vancouver British Columbia to Mississauga Ontario.  In about 3 days.  Alone.  In February.  In the snow.  I don’t want to say it was a harrowing experience but, when I arrived at my parent’s house, the housekeeper wouldn’t let me in and frantically contacted my mother to report a wild eyed greasy hippie trying to break in.

Needless to say, the promised opportunity somehow dried up as I was risking my life and the lives of others on my caffeine and amphetamine version of the Cannonball Run across Canada.  More forgettable jobs followed with me actually having 3 in one day at one point.  It wasn’t until September 1978 when I walked into a warehouse office near the airport in Mississauga that my life finally started to take focus.  Not immediately, of course.  Working midnights and having too much daylight on your hands is a grand recipe for heavy drinking and general male goofiness.  That all changed when I moved into the office and met a lovely young lady with the longest blonde hair that I had ever seen.  Hello Jan Stuart.

Jan had survived a bad marriage as well so we circled each other for quite a while.  I actually kept my own apartment for a year after we moved in together at her place.  In 1982 we both came to our senses and threw our hats into the matrimonial ring once again.  The triumph of hope over experience.  We must have done something right because August 20, 2012 will mark our 30th anniversary. 

We bought a house.  We both kept working for the same place.  They promoted us and gave us raises.  Cats and dogs came and went but since neither of us wanted children (or deep down we were afraid given our history) so it’s been the two of us.   Jan’s parents died fairly early in our time together as did my father.  My sister lost a long battle with alcohol and Maxine passed away a few years back at the age of 80 (boy do I hope I got the majority of my genes from her).

December 11, 2011.  60 years plus 1 day.  I’m overweight but 6 months off cigarettes.  My eyes suck which makes my photographic hobby more difficult than it should be.  I love airplanes and Jan loves her arts and crafts.  This keeps us from getting under each others’ feet on weekends.  We have  a few close friends but spend most of our time home with the cats.  The house is paid for.  1 of the 2 cars still has a loan attached but not much.  Retirement is only a couple of years away (or sooner depending on how this economy keeps rolling) and we’re ready to leave the rat race and start living.

Yesterday I spent the morning flying around in the back seat of a 59 year old Harvard trainer.  I took this self portrait after flying it for a while.

I look happy.  I am.

The 2012 air show schedule is starting to come together now that the ICAS (International Council of Airshows) meetings down in Las Vegas are underway.

My running list of events I’ll either be working or attending as a spectator is now available.

Still 15 days from its second birthday, Boeing 787 airframe ZA001 will fly today to Palmdale California ending a short life as a test aircraft.  The next time she flies (which could take quite a long time) will probably be back to Seattle to a permanent home at the Seattle Museum of Flight.

I took this picture at Oshkosh 2011 when 001 made a one day visit to see tens of thousands of adoring fans.  One of the huge highlights of my first trip to AirVenture.

More information from FlightBlogger.

That’s a term used to suggest that you sit back and enjoy something instead of spending time picking holes in the content.  It’s most often heard in regards to movies or TV shows.

Case in point.  Pan Am is now showing on North American TV on Sunday nights.  I’ve watched parts of a couple of episodes and have real trouble suspending my disbelief.  Why?  Let me show you.

Here we have a publicity shot of a Pan Am 747 crew.

Seasoned crew.  Very proud, very professional.

Now let’s jump to the land of make believe.

Really?  This is the crew that flies a Boeing 707 on international routes?  Seeing that most line officers came to the airlines from the military, I think the Captain must have lied about his age when he dropped in to see the recruiter.  Or maybe the numbers were down that month.  The FO I can almost buy.  The FA’s look a little on the young side but certainly wear the uniform well.

Of course, there is some “historical” precedence for this.  I give you Leonardo DiCaprio in “Catch Me If You Can” from 2002.

Perhaps the producers of Pan Am went back into the archives but not quite far enough.

Suspend disbelief?  Sorry can’t quite do it.