My Memorial Day weekend started early as I was walking my dog on Thursday afternoon. It was about 5:30 pm and I heard the deep, brooding rumble that I recognized as coming from a warplane. No commercial airliner sounds like a warplane regardless of how big it might be. You can hear that sound from a P-51 Mustang if you go to the Dream Machines show in Half Moon Bay, but nothing--and I mean nothing-- sounds like a WWII bomber's engines revved up.
I looked up just to the south of my house and a B-24 Liberator was pulling a long, slow, loud U-turn at about 2,000 feet of altitude. The B-24 is part of the Wings of War tour put on every year by the Collings Foundation and it was heading back to Moffett Field. Its distinctive bright red rear rudders were clear as day. I lost my Dad just about two years ago. He was a C-47 pilot in Europe. WWII vets have been dying at a rate of about 1,000 per day for the last decade--and those are the lucky ones!
I'm really tempted to get into our current politics, but I won't. Not on Memorial Day. Let's just take a moment to remember those who have answered the call. Dad was always a bit amazed that he learned to fly before he learned to drive a car. That's just how it was. As I stood there on Occidental Ave. with my mouth hanging open, cursing the fact that I had been caught without my camera or phone, I took my moment. Here is that very same Liberator up close. I hope you saw it sometime this weekend, too.