First flight was MKE/LAX on a UA propeller-driven bird. It was 1954, and mom and I were going to visit Aunt Annabelle and do Disneyland to celebrate my 6th birthday. This was February, mind you, so we left Milwaukee's 20 degrees and blowing snow to arrive to palm trees gently waving in the sunshine-soaked land of paradise. I'm smiling broadly on every picture that was taken on that trip, and I wondered why anyone in their right mind wouldn't dump Milwaukee for southern California's sun and surf. Matter of fact, I still wonder that same thing. Even more so when we visit wife's kissy-face relatives in MKE!

I still find taking off one of the most exhilarating feelings in the world.