The Flying Machine

Flying was a big thing when we were boys. Charles Lindbergh didn’t cross the Atlantic until May of 1927. My older siblings were all living when he did it.

It took Lindbergh thirty-three and one half-hours to travel the 3,500 to Paris. He was the first to fly the Atlantic alone. (Some years ago I was on the Concord. It took us less than 3 hours to get to New York from London.)

Kids that could afford them wore Lindbergh hats with goggles in the winter. Charlie wore such a hat with goggles when he made the flight described in the poem that follows. I wonder if Charlie thought himself another Charles Lindbergh. (Charlie and his father died in a car crash some years ago.)

Men had dreamed of crossing the Atlantic. My Uncle Tom was in England feeling sorry for his loneliness when he had a dream. He saw a single individual fly across the Atlantic Ocean. Lindbergh was the man that made that dream come true.

Because of Lindbergh’s opposition to our participation in World War II, he was not allowed to make an official contribution to the war effort. He was not officially allowed to fly missions. However, he saved lives and improved air operations in the Pacific.

One contribution he made was extending the flying range of the P-38. He knew how to conserve fuel.

Read about his amazing flight at: http://www.charleslindbergh.com/history/paris.asp

I hope you enjoy this poem:

Flying Machine by Taylor Jones Monday, July 26, 1999 (revised November 3, 2005)

We gathered at Charlie’s house,
With hammers and orange crates,
To built a half-sized airplane
With supper flying traits.

This supper duper flying machine
I knew could never fly.
With all that weight and Charlie
It would never hit the sky!

An airplane made from orange crates?
They thought the wood was light.
Surely with cloth coverings,
There would be a successful flight.

I said, "I may be younger than you guys are,
But I'm not a stupid jerk!
That thing won't fly and you will die"
They said, "You stupid little twerp!"

I was bad and they were mad,
No work they’d let me do.
If Dad could get his car off the blocks
I could have gone to the zoo.

They finished the plane and said,
"Now that's a thing of beauty!
Let's get this thing up on the garage,
Charlie, the pilot can do his duty."

I said, “If Charlie
Gets into that thing.
His brain is
Smaller than a cooty.”

I'd never saw anything fall so fast,
It didn't fly with expected grace.
Charlie face had lost its smile,
Nothing but a grimace,

As the flimsy mass met the earth,
Or the other way around,
The great airship shattered to pieces
As Charlie hit the ground.

To my surprise, Charlie survived,
With cuts, abrasions and bruises.
"That was quite a flight," he said.
“But the landing tore my britches.”

The others quite agreed
That a great flight had occurred
Despite the shattered wood.
I said, "Your minds are really blurred!"

They went into the club house,
But they wouldn't let me in.
I said, “Go have your meeting.
Your heads are full of tin!”