Article October 8, 2001 Issue

A DAUGHTER'S THOUGHTS about another flight from Boston

By Gail Gilliland

THE LAST TIME I saw my father, he was headed down a jetway with my mother to board a plane at Boston's Logan International Airport. He was wearing his familiar brown felt hat, which made him look a little like Frank Sinatra. Just as he was about to disappear from view, he cocked his head in my direction, gave me his wonderful crooked smile, then lifted his long, slim hand in one last wave.

My dad was an aviation pioneer, and worked for a large aeronautics company for many years before he retired. He loved to fly, and would almost inevitably introduce himself to the pilot if the aircraft he was boarding happened to be one he'd helped to build. At the end of almost every flight, he'd stop and compliment the pilot and crew on the flight.

"Beautiful landing!" he'd say. "Beautiful! Beautiful! I love to fly!"

Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.

Send a comment to the editors
NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Article
A PRAYER
October 8, 2001
Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit