In The Beginning
Posted by Richard Bogert on
In the beginning, there was a little boy that lived on the other side of the hill from a small country airport. From two miles away he could feel the pulses in the air before he could hear the old Stearman crop dusters. Sometimes, the Stearman would fly close enough for me to see the pilot and he could see me. Jumping up and down, waving my arms, in my Oshkosh bib overalls, I would be thrilled if the pilot waved to me or rocked the wings back and forth to acknowledge me. I dreamed that I could do that someday. It’s been almost 70 years since that boy waved to the planes and I have a bunch of stories about the journey. Richard Bogert