Trip to the City

My week with my family in Roswell, GA, as usual, was fun and relaxing.

We go out to eat often and with so many restaurants nearby, I am always curious as to where they will take me next. The most interesting restaurant was th 57th Fighter Group, located next to the Dekalb Peachtree Airport. The decor is World War II. You enter through a narrow hallway with walls made from sandbags. Stu said that was to make the place look like a bunker. I was immediately taken with all the photos on the walls. Real people and places in black and white. 

The uniformed military men brought back memories of my dear brother-in-law, Stan. He was so handsome in his Air Force uniform. I was a small child when I first met him. The war had recently ended, I think, when he met my sister, June, and she brought him home to meet her family. He was still in the service.

The WWII theme also reminded me of my two cousins who died. I never met them. I also had cousins who came home to live long lives. My oldest brother joined the Navy and I have sweet memories of him in his white sailor uniform he wore when he hitchhiked home on weekends. He never had a problem catching a ride because civilians were happy to help a man in uniform and there was no fear of opening the car door to one of them.

The 57th restaurant is a favorite of many of my friends in the Atlanta area, but I had never heard of it.

A DJ played music that was popular in the days of my youth. A biplane gave rides just outside the area where we sat and it was fun to see it take off and land.

The plane reminded me that my sister, Gay, when we were in college, often skipped class to go for a ride with college students who were taking flying lessons. I am glad she never told me at the time. I would have been worried to death. She still likes to take rides in small airplanes and has a friend who has taken her up in his own plane. 

My only experience in a small private plane was scary and very stressful. Barry and I flew to Boone NC when my sister, June, called and asked us to come. Stan was in critical condition and it was Thanksgiving weekend. I will never forget how I felt that day, anxious to be with my sister, afraid of what doctors had told her. The weather was really bad and in 1975, Boone did not have much of an airport.  I think he had died before we finally arrived, but June was not told because she was alone and the hospital knew her family was on the way. 

I like to keep my feet on the ground or in my car. I will fly in a large airplane if I am going long distances such as on my trips to Hawaii, California, and New York City, but I only do it because I must. 

Back in my little mountain town, I get back to reality and a slow style of life.

Hope you all are having a good summer, not too hot, and like me, are grateful for air conditioning.