Thoughts on the Air Show

So, I spent a good portion of my weekend volunteering at the Air Show. I knew I had to write something about on the blog, but I just haven't been able to decide what exactly I was going to write. As is my usual schtick, I could write some downright negative things. On the other hand, I could chose to focus on the positive. So here it goes.

Air shows are not my thing. My fair complexion really isn't suited for standing for hours in the sun on the airport runway. But there is something about the air show that brings me back every year, at least to volunteer. I decided today that it reminds me of very happy childhood memories. Although not completely the same, the Air Show reminds me of spending time with my paternal grandfather driving around to various construction sites and exploring all kinds of huge machinery.

My grandfather was a bridge builder by profession. In the 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s, the company he worked for built the majority of the highway overpasses in Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, South Dakota, and North Dakota. He loved bridges, but, even moreso, he loved big machines. After he retired, he still spent a great deal of his time riding around Northern Minnesota looking at various jobsites and commenting on their technique. In the summers, he took me with him. We would drive around in his beat-up red pick-up truck (that I called "Pucky") and looked at the graders, backhoes, cranes, tractors, excavators, and dump trucks.

Seeing all the big machines at the Air Show reminds me of him. He would have loved the Air Show. He would have stood at the static displays and talked for hours to the pilots. He would have let me climb on them all day and never complained. He would have explained to me what each machine or plane was used for and why each part was important. He would have talked about what it was like to run these machines before they had computers or any fancy gadgets. He would have told me stories about building bridges in his day, or about the planes his brothers flew in World War II.

Most importantly, he was the only family member who could have shared this type of knowledge with me. My father inherited none of his father's interest in machinery, construction, building, or other more "manly" pursuits. (Don't get me wrong, my father has many wonderful traits - machinery is just not one of them.) My other grandfather prided himself for being an "educated gentleman" who didn't need to work with his hands. My paternal grandfather was the only one in my family who would have shared my time at the Air Show this weekend.

I spent a month every summer with my paternal grandparents until I was 18 years old. Around that time, my grandfather slowly started his long painful descent into Alzheimer's. I saw him less and less each year until, finally, he didn't recognize me anymore. He died shortly after I moved to Peoria, but he had been long gone years before that. In the last five years, he never lived in the present - he lived in what would have been his prime, talking to anyone who would listen about building bridges and the big machines he loved.