Photos - Poem: Air Force Pilot 1943

I finally figured out how to upload photos to my blog.

Scott and I watched great nature shows. Did you know orchids are the largest species of plants in the world?

Photo no. two above is an orchid Scott bought me for Valentine's Day. It did well for awhile but is now fast asleep with its long dog tongues.

And of course Winnie's Philodendron is doing well, long after she died.

Scott also bought me this unusual plant he found at the Giant. It's on one of my old Johnson Brothers' plates with a Laura Ashley Design.

Here's one of my altars. I have many in the house, my sacred objects.





AIR FORCE PILOT
PHOTO 1943

Great grandmother Julia
How proud we are of you.
Though I never met you
As you died before I was born
Your legacy lives on in my
piloting career.


For a while I flew commercial
jets all over the world. London
Bangkok, Belize - and yes my
friend Stephen Weinstein was
aboard - and ecstasy is the only
word that describes the beauty
of flying on top of the world.

Helipcopter pilots were needed
for rescue missions. The bleeding
the wounded in car crashes, the
stroke victims with their twisted
faces and useless arms belonged
to me.

Off they went to Abington Hospital
or when things were dire, downtown
to Jefferson, landing safely
on the roof, hoping for a
recovery. The surgeons
took over then with their
green surgical scrubs
as I piloted onward
to my next rescue mission.

The controls of the helicopter
were as complex as the John Wanamaker
Pipe Organ, located now in a court yard
of Macy's Center City.

If I pass, my legacy lives on.
Forget me not!