Come fly with me

My dad joined the Air Force for one main reason -- to become a pilot. He grew up a farm boy amidst the corn fields on Ohio, and his escape -- quite literally -- was big blue sky up above them. He hasn't been an Air Force pilot for a few years now, but recently, he renewed his private pilot's license so he could go flying. There's a small airfield near his house in Georgia, and he can get small planes to take up family members or, on occasion, the ROTC cadets in his high school program.

Over Thanksgiving, I finally got a chance to go up. Oliver stayed at home to work out with Laura and play with mom and Reid while my older brother Jon and I went out to fly with my dad. It was cold but very clear, and the wind wasn't too bad. I've never been one to get nervous about flying -- probably in large part because of my dad -- and this was no different. As Jon said, this was one time my dad's OCD is a plus. He goes through the checklist carefully each time he flies and is very critical of the pilots involved in the plane crashes due to negligence in this area.

The take-off was easy, and pretty soon we were high above the trees, looking down on a spectacular view of surrounding farms, natural areas, neighborhoods, and even a peek at Atlanta's skyline in the distance. My dad left me fly for a bit, turning and inclining. I do love being up there, but I'd much prefer to leave the flying to him. He pulled his tricks -- inclining and then doing a steep descent, like on a roller coasters, and banking hard to the right or left. He's super vigilant while up there -- watching the smoke stacks to keep tabs on the wind gusts and checking his gauges and fuel levels. This is a tiny plane, and nothing is automatic.

It's fun to get to see people pursuing their passions, and this was no different. I've never seen my dad fly before. He so obviously loves it and enjoys being in his domain.