I'm told that my father took me to a county fair, and we went up in a biplane; have no recollection but a couple of shots of farmland beneath us (this in Kentucky or Ohio).

In mid-1955 we moved from Cincy to DC. Father drove the Studebaker,and my mother took me and my infant sister on a DC6 (?) ... I don't recall the configuration of the a/c or even what airline we flew, but I think I can be pardoned as I was only 3 years old. My first time staying up after dark (it was an evening flight), my first taste of fried chicken. A pretty good meal, chicken leg and thigh, mash, some veg I forget, and fruit cocktail. Unfortunately over the Appalachians that night we got mountain effect, and I can still recall the taste of the chicken and fruit cocktail both ways (the second time much more vividly). Did get most of it into the barf bag, though. For many years afterwards, minds working as they do, I had this phobia not of flying or of airplanes but of fruit cocktail, especially the half a maraschino cherry they used to garnish it with.Thus started a lifetime of heightened awareness of airplane food.