Flying High Again

Hey there!   Did you miss me?  I haven’t been here much the past few weeks, because my husband and I have been out of town enjoying precious time with family (yay for the retirement life!).  About a week ago, we returned from an action-packed 12-day trip: first we flew down to visit a couple of my husband's siblings in sunny FL, and from there out to OK to spend a week with our youngest son and his bride of 18 months.

We had a ball hanging out at an open-air beach bar, 
enjoying the fresh air, sunshine—and some cold beer!

 

Brunch at our son's country club--la did da!

I love this boy!

We had a two-leg trip down to FL, then two legs out to OK, and finally two legs on the return trip home.  Most of the airports we walked through to make our connections resembled ghost towns.  It’s so strange...being married to a commercial airline pilot (who took an early retirement last Sept., after 32 years of flying for the same major airline), I’ve spent an awful lot of time in bustling airports, both at home and abroad.  I hadn’t flown since last Feb., when I accompanied my husband on a working trip to Rome just before the first “15 days to flatten the curve” lockdown started.  And it was eye-opening to see how Covid has changed the face of air travel—just as it has changed the face of humanity, with the ongoing mask mandates. 

Our youngest son is following in his father’s footsteps: he flies for a regional airline, hoping to get on with one of the majors as soon as possible.  He was a relatively new captain when the virus hit and people stopped traveling, and although he didn’t get furloughed, thank goodness, he did spend the past year downgraded to co-pilot.  Not too long ago, he was upgraded back to captain, which gives me hope for the travel industry in general and my hardworking pilot son, a father of five, in particular.

I love this boy, too!

On a recent trip, a young passenger gave our boy a thank you note (written on a paper airplane—how adorable is that?) as he was getting off the plane.

I second this 8-year-old’s opinion that anyone who doesn’t appreciate what an airline pilot does is either “meen” or “krasy.”  😁 As a mostly recovered white-knuckle flyer, I depend on their unique skills to get me safely where I want to go, and they are all superheroes in my book.

Let’s hope and pray that we’ll all be flying high again soon—whether that means actually flying, or going to school in person, or sitting in the crowded stands at a football game, or even just smiling at strangers on the street, unmasked and unafraid...

Okay, that's it for me today.  But you might want to check out Rosie's link-up, Just Because (just because there are a lot of interesting bloggers out there whom you might not have "met" yet!).

P.S.  Happy St. Patty’s Day!  ☘️ I’ll tell you all about how we celebrated Ireland’s patron saint tomorrow!

Pearls in Rome, Day One (Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps)

It has been almost three weeks already (how can that be?!) since we returned from our amazing trip-of-a-lifetime Rome adventure, and I thought I'd share a few tidbits, (mostly pictures) before the details all become too hazy.  While we were in the Eternal City, we had very limited Internet access due to some service problems in parts of the city--which seemed a tad inconvenient at first but turned out to be a blessing in disguise, I believe, because it made us live in the moment, for the most part ignoring our iPhones.  (Mine became nothing more than a glorified camera for most of the time we were there!)

We flew out of NYC on the evening of Tuesday March 19. We were flying stand-by (a perk of my husband's airline job that isn't always the least stressful way to travel, but more often than not has worked out very well for us), and there was only one available seat up in business class...so my hubby, in his usual role as my hero, made me take it and he sat in the back in a much-less-comfy coach seat.

I had my pre-flight glass of champagne to calm my pre-flight jitters and settled in for the 8-plus hour flight.  (If you had ever told me when I was a young mama that I would one day actually fly with my husband across the ocean--more than once!--I would not have believed you; I never could have done this when my boys were little...but I'm sure glad I can do it now!)

This is just the hors d'oeuvre course I enjoyed on the way to Rome.  (Don't hate me!)

I was living my best life on the flight, eating great food and alternating between

 watching movies and reading a novel.  As usual, I did very little sleeping.

By the time we landed, took a train into the city, and got a taxi ride to our VRBO apartment on a narrow side street in Roma, it was about noon on Wednesday in that part of the world.

Wednesday, March 20:

At the airport.  I still couldn't believe I was actually in Rome!  (Had to pose in front of this sign for proof!)

Outside the door of our sweet, cozy little one-bedroom studio apartment.

Our little home-sweet-home for the week.

Our street!

I felt giddy when we got there!  (Very tired, but giddy!)

We unpacked and took a two-hour nap before heading over to the Pantheon (a short walk away) in the early afternoon, where we picked up a guided tour.

What I loved the most about the Pantheon (aside from the breathtaking ancient architecture) was learning how this once-pagan temple to the gods became a Catholic church filled with images honoring the Blessed Mother.

After the Pantheon tour, we did some walking and ended up in the Piazza Navona, where we sat at an outside table and had drinks and bruschetta--and did some people watching.

I loved the Piazza Navona.

Almost as much as I love this guy!

This was followed by a pasta dinner al fresco (I ordered spicy penne arrabiata and loved it!) and a trip to the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps.

Oh, and I almost forgot: then there was GELATO for dessert, before heading back "home"!  My husband has flown to Rome hundreds of times for work, and he has a favorite gelato place, Giolitti's--which just happened to be right around the corner from our apartment (an easy place to stop on our way back each night, weary from a long day of walking thousands and thousands of steps on cobblestone streets and hankering for a treat.  How convenient!).

That was a perfect first day, because it wasn't overly strenuous and we were still getting used to the time change (five hours ahead of East Coast time).  While we were having our tour of the Pantheon, we signed up for two more tours with the same company: the Colosseum on Thursday, and the catacombs on Friday.  So stay tuned, dear readers.   More to come...

Ciao for now!

Pearls in Prague: Part One

My husband has been a commercial airline pilot for 28 years, since just around the time I gave birth to our fourth son in 1988.  For the last 20 of those years, he has been flying internationally--to places like Rome, Moscow, Dublin, Milan, Brussels...there are too many cities to list, and he can't even count the number of times he has been to each of them.

It is typical for the wives of airline pilots to occasionally tag along on their husbands' working trips, leaving their children in the care of loving grandparents (which is what is known as a win-win situation).  It's a great deal, after all: if there are empty seats up in first class or business class, the spouses of employees can fill them; when they arrive at the trip's destination, they can share the free hotel room provided for flight crew members during the one- or two-day layover.  So for the price of a few meals out, they can enjoy exotic (but very short!) vacations that they might otherwise never be able to afford.

I, however, have not been a typical airline pilot's wife.  Not by a long shot.

Although we did take some trips with our kids (to places like Disney, Notre Dame, and even Bermuda, where my husband's brother was stationed in the Navy), we really didn't fly as much as your average airline couple or family. There were a few good reasons for this.  First of all, even with the enviable perk of free flights, hotel costs and meals out for a family of seven adds up quickly.  When our boys were growing up, making sure that we had the funds to keep up with their Catholic school tuitions took priority over traveling.  Secondly, our boys' mom suffered from a severe case of fear of flying (which, coupled with the crippling separation anxiety that would have ensued if she'd flown off and left her babies behind, was downright debilitating).  And to be honest, once our sons all started playing varsity football and lacrosse, they were unwilling to go away during school vacations if it meant they might have to miss a game or two or lose their starting spots on the team, so they were perfectly happy to be homebodies most of the time.

In the spring of 2011, our oldest son and his wife welcomed twin daughters, our first grandchildren; suddenly my fear of flying started to abate a little and I became, in fact, a frequent flyer.  Flying still made me incredibly nervous, but there was no way I wasn't going to do it.  It's amazing what having your kids and grandkids living far from home will do to cure a phobia like that.  The fear of not being able to see them became greater by far than the fear of sitting in a steel tube 30,000 feet above terra firma.

Most of our travels revolved around visiting our beloved progeny; but in December of 2011, just a few months after the youngest of our five boys started his freshman year at Notre Dame and our nest was well and truly empty, I finally accompanied my husband on one of his working trips.  It was a four-day trip to Nice, and it was spectacular.  During the two-day layover, we were able to make a side trip to Monaco, which was a complete thrill for me.  Between 2011 and 2014, I was quite the jet-setter: I went to Nice, Amsterdam, Athens, Barcelona, and also took two trips to San Juan--each time with my hubby at the controls up front.  But for the past two years, our lives have been so hectic and full and over-scheduled that we haven't been able to fly to far-off lands together.

My husband spends most of his energy making sure that I'm happy and doesn't really ask for much; so when he mentioned, this past summer, that he'd like to have me go on a trip with him sometime soon, I knew that I couldn't say no if just the right trip came up.  Well, it did: a four-day trip to a beautiful European destination, with plenty of seats on the flights there and back.  So...

On Monday night, we took off from NYC and flew across the Atlantic.

We flew over Ireland (the magical land I desperately yearn to visit one day, God willing!).

We flew over Germany (hello, my youngest son!).

And finally, after almosst eight hours in the air, we landed in Prague.

While I was watching our progress on the flight tracker (on my personal TV screen up in business class--I know, I'm spoiled), my husband was looking at this sort of thing.

The trip was a lot more work for him than it was for me, as you can imagine.

But after getting a nice long nap in at the layover hotel (along with a workout for him and a bit of blog-writing for me), we showered, dressed, and took a long walk through the city.  We strolled over the famous Charles Bridge.  We ate a lovely meal at a restaurant near the river that was more upscale than either of us needed.  Then we walked back to the hotel.

Prague, I must say, is just beautiful!

Selfie time!

The Charles Bridge in the distance.

My dinner date.

The famous Prague astronomical clock.

Tomorrow, there'll be lots of sight-seeing and lots of picture-taking, so stay tuned for Part Two.

Trip Essentials

I've spent the past few days preparing myself (mostly mentally) for my trip to Nice on Friday. This will be my first time ever accompanying my husband on a working trip--where he will be up front in the cockpit, driving the airplane!--in the almost 24 years he's been a pilot for the airline. I'm flying standby, and so far (gulp!) the flights both there and back look wide open, so I should have no problem getting a seat. The flights are so empty as of now that I may even end up in business class, which I've heard is definitely the way to go when you're flying across the Atlantic. The Atlantic Ocean...that big, scary ocean...water, water, everywhere...flying in the dark of night...flying through vast, black emptiness--flying as only birds should do, really--when you could be snug at home, on good old terra firma, in your cozy house that's all decorated for Christmas...WHAT HAPPENED? I think I blacked out for a minute. Where was I? Oh, yes: I was talking about my upcoming trip to Nice, the French city on the Riviera that's a stone's throw from the fabled principality of Monaco. Just about anyone would like to be in my shoes, right? Flying across the Atlantic to the French Riviera, in business class (hopefully), no charge, with a free hotel room waiting over there on the Cote d'Azure, as they call it. So...do you by any chance wear between an 8 and 1/2 and a 9? (Ah, je m'amuse.)

Yesterday, I went out and bought this slim paperback book, See It and Say It in French, to take along with me to Nice. I used to be somewhat fluent in French back in my younger days. In fact, during a French Lit class my senior year of college, I took all my notes and wrote all my papers en francaise, and had even gotten to the point where I was actually thinking in French and didn't have to take the time to translate in my head. Mes amis, those days are long gone. I'm as rusty now as my passport (which I got in 2002 and have never taken out of the fire safe until now, which is a good thing because it expires in a matter of months!). If what they say about the French is true, however, I shouldn't even bother trying to converse in their native tongue. If they pretend not to understand ugly Americans who endeavor to speak their language and mangle it beyond recognition, I may be in trouble. But I do hope to have the opportunity to order un cafe au lait at a restaurant, parler a bit with the locals, and to tell everyone who'll listen about how j'ai pris l'avion! Across the great, big ocean, no less!

So these are my trip essentials: my Sparknotes-style French language book; my never-been-used passport; and my St. Joseph's prayer card, which I have with me every time I board an airplane. Before takeoff, I like to recite the "Unfailing Petition to St. Joseph," which I've posted on this blog before: O St. Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the throne of God, I place in thee all my interests and desires. O St. Joseph, do assist me by thy powerful intercession and obtain for me from thy Divine Son all spiritual blessings, through Jesus Christ, Our Lord; so that having engaged here below thy heavenly power, I may offer my thanksgiving and homage to the most loving of Fathers. O St. Joseph, I never weary contemplating thee and Jesus asleep in thy arms. I dare not approach while He reposes near thy heart. Press Him in my name and kiss His fine head for me and ask Him to return the kiss when I draw my dying breath. St. Joseph, Patron of departing souls, pray for me. Amen." 

Saying this prayer, and holding onto this card for dear life as the plane lifts off the ground, helps to calm my nerves. Am I looking forward to the actual cross-Atlantic flight on Friday? Je pense que non. But I am, certainement, looking forward to the mini-vacation with my husband. And this trip should give me some interesting material to blog about! 

Translations: 

Cote d'Azure: Sky Blue Coast 

je m'amuse: I amuse myself 

en francaise: in French 

mes amis: my friends 

un cafe au lait: a coffee with milk 

parler: to talk 

j'ai pris l'avion: I took the airplane 

Je pense que non.: I don't think so. 

certainement: certainly, of course

Flying Away from the Empty Nest

I find I'm having a bit of trouble adjusting to my big, empty house, now that we don't have any kids living under our roof (except for our youngest, who will be coming back home during college breaks and summer vacations). The biggest problem I'm having is that I'm not sleeping as soundly or as long as I used to. As the wife of an airline pilot, I had to adjust long ago to sometimes sleeping alone in my bed; but there were always other people in the house with me, sleeping in the other bedrooms. These days, when I get into bed at night, I've noticed that our house seems to creak a lot more than it used to.

I've always been a champion sleeper--it's my greatest talent. My norm is to sleep so deeply that I seldom remember any dreams. I can fall asleep on a dime, with two cups of coffee in my system and a movie that I've been dying to see in the DVD player. Even the splendiferous hi-def action on our big-screen T.V. and the movie surround-sound cranked to high volume can't rouse me when I'm in sleep mode. I can sleep with a book in my hand and wake up hours later to find that I haven't lost my place. I can sleep holding a cup of coffee without spilling a single drop. Sleeping like a proverbial log--that's my wheel house; that's what I'm missing these days. The bags under my eyes are growing like nobody's business.

Two days ago, as I was dropping my husband off at the bus station (where he catches the bus that takes him to the aiport for work), I suddenly had an epiphany: instead of staying home alone every time he goes on a trip, I should go with him! Not every time, but sometimes. I was so excited about this novel idea--I only wished I'd thought of it in time to pack and go with him on his three-day trip to Dublin that very day. 

He was in Dublin yesterday, dontcha know*, and I could have been there, too--sipping a pint in a pub, instead of being here all by my lonesome. (*Imagine this phrase said with a brogue, like the Lucky Charms leprechaun or the Irish Spring actors, for a better effect.)

It's sad, but in all the years he's been a pilot (almost a quarter of a century!), I've never ridden in the back of a plane that my husband was flying. Most airline wives accompany their husbands on trips from time to time. After all, the price is right: the flight and hotel are free, so the only expenses are meals and entertainment. And the layovers are only a day or two long, so there isn't time to spend an exorbitant amount of money. As great as that sounds, I've never done it. He's been traveling to all these wonderful cities in Europe for many years, and I've never gone to any of them with him. My fear of flying played a big part in that, of course; but the other stumbling block was that I was incapable of taking a cross-Atlantic trip and leaving my boys behind at home. And they were always so busy with school and sports schedules that, unfortunately, we never made it over to Europe as a family, either. But with my nest all emptied out, what's stopping me now (aside from that pesky fear of flying bugaboo)?

My husband just got his schedule for next month, and there is a trip to Brussels that looks promising. It's a four-day trip, so we would have two whole days over there to sightsee and maybe have some nice meals--perhaps with some of those (yucky) sprouts for which that city is famous. Belgium is not a country that I've particularly yearned to see, but I do like their chocolates, and judging by the above picture, it's quite beautiful; so I think this is as good a destination as any for my maiden voyage overseas. I am going to be so proud sitting in the back (I hope in business class, but probably in coach!), knowing that my husband is at the controls. It's going to be hard for me to keep from bragging, saying to any fellow passenger who'll listen, "My husband is flying this plane!"  

Wish me luck on this one. As the date of the Brussels trip approaches, I may lose all this new-found bravado. But hopefully, I'll go through with it. And if I do, I'll bring my laptop and blog from Belgium!

Safe Journeys

If this picture looks familiar, it's because I just posted it a couple of days ago, after my trip out to the Midwest to meet my new granddaughters ("Miracles," June 10). I decided that I wanted to post it again after my husband saw something interesting in it that I hadn't even noticed. Look at it closely: do you see anything odd about the plane taking off in the background?

Okay, I'll give you a hint: it has to do with the shape of the cloud behind the airplane.

Do you see it yet? I can't hold it in any longer, so I'll say it: doesn't it look like the plane has a big white angel's wing attached to it?

The funny thing is that minutes after I snapped this picture, my flight began to board. And I began to get nervous, as usual; so as I often do, I prayed to my own Guardian Angel, the pilots' Guardian Angels, and the Guardian Angels of all the passengers on my flight. I prayed that all of these Heavenly protectors would keep us safe on our trip. Now, I wonder: when my plane took off, did it, too, have a giant angel's wing on it? I think perhaps it did; maybe not one that anyone on the ground could see, but every bit as real as if they could. I'm not necessarily saying that this picture is some kind of sign; but I do think that if nothing else, it's rather amazing that the timing was such that when I pressed the button on my camera, that wing-shaped cloud was in the perfect position to create this illusion.

Each of us--every single soul on earth--has been given a Guardian Angel; yet we often forget about the existence of these special friends, and we forget to pray to them. Who knows how many disasters have been averted by their intervention? Saint Frances de Sales said this on the subject: "Make yourself familiar with the angels, and behold them in spirit; for without being seen, they are present with you."

I don't think I'll ever be able to board an airplane again without thinking of this picture; and hopefully, it will remind me to always pray to my Guardian Angel for safe journeys.

Miracles

I have never been a fan of airplane travel (as I explained on April 10 in a post titled "Fear of Flying"), and I probably never will be. Flying is too unnatural! I mean, look at this photo that I took at the airport yesterday. The fact that that enormous tube of steel carrying hundreds of passengers and who knows how many tons of cargo can lift up off the ground (where any person in his right mind belongs!) and fly through the sky--that, to me, is the stuff of science fiction. I sometimes feel about flying the way the first readers of Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea must have felt about undersea travel: "Men flying through the sky like birds? It'll never happen!" I know, I know: there's science involved. There's Bernoulli's Principle, and powerful jet engines, and terms like "lift" and "thrust." The engineers have it all figured out, and by golly, it works! My husband is a pilot, and he can explain it all to me until he's blue in the face, but a part of me is still unconvinced; to me, flying will always be awe-inspiring, scary, and somehow wrong. However, the fact that I can take off early in the morning and touch down by lunchtime in a state that is a 24-hour car drive from home is nothing short of a miracle. And that's pretty swell if you've got two brand new granddaughters halfway across the country that you're dying to see in person. So if you're wondering why I haven't been blogging for a few days, it's because I flew out to see them on Tuesday morning and returned yesterday, something I am aware I never could have done in Jules Verne's day.

I avoided air travel as much as I possibly could when my children were growing up and living at home, but always assured my husband that when they became adults, if they moved far away I would make myself do it in order to see them. I could never stand the idea of flying away from them; but I believed that, if necessary, I would fly to them. Well, that time has arrived, and as much as I dislike being in the air, I have begun to do an awful lot of flying. And I would be a crazy person if I wasn't willing to do it in order to see the two little miracles in the picture below!! (That's one exclamation point for each baby!) Flying, I now realize, is one of man's great innovations, but it's not miraculous; those two baby girls, on the other hand, are truly miracles. A man can make an airplane; but without God's help, he cannot make a baby.I know I'm not the first person to have grandchildren, and every grandma under the sun probably thinks her little darlings are the cutest to have ever graced our planet; but I have to say, folks, in my case, it happens to be true. (Trust me, I wouldn't lie to you.) These two baby girls, who we now know are identical twins, have such fine little features--you should see their tiny ski jump noses and perfectly formed little rosebud lips!--that they look like little dolls. I am completely besotted, and can hardly wait for my son, their proud daddy, to return from deployment and see his little daughters. (So far, he has only seen them on Skype.) And I can hardly wait for my husband--now a doting "Papa"--to meet them. They are so sweet and adorable, a pair of blessings, angels, miracles. I feel the English language doesn't have enough words that are adequate to describe how amazing those wee sweeties are.

Thank you so much to all of you who have prayed for the twins and their mother throughout the pregnancy. Your prayers undoubtedly helped, as the babies were able to return home just four days after their birth. The two of them are gaining weight and had a great first check-up on Wednesday. Their mommy is still having some issues with pain and some other things, but she's a trooper and is a wonderful mother. She and the babies could use your continued prayers.

Okay, I'm going to end with a movie quote, because it fits so perfectly here. When I saw my precious granddaughters for the first time in person, I was reminded of what the dad in the movie Rudy says when he enters the football stadium at Notre Dame for the first time in his life: "It's the most beautiful sight these eyes have ever seen."