Hats and Memories

Last night, my daughter wore an old cap of mine to color guard practice.

I'd gotten the cap from a fellow who sold them as mementos of a squadron I'd been in while in the Air Force -- the 553rd Reconnaisance Squadron, based out of Korat Thailand. I mentioned to her that I didn't think it entirely fair that she looked better in the hat than I did, and she was surprised. Apparently, she'd forgotten that I had told her where the cap had came from, back when she adopted it, so I told her again -- that I had worked as an aircraft radio technician on that squadron's airplanes. They were old, I said -- in fact, of the three types of airplanes I worked on, two - the 121's and the 130's - were old enough to still use propellors! I didn't have to explain to her what a propellor was, at least. She looked at me from under the brim of the cap, smiling. So, she said, I guess you got stuck on the loser airplanes, huh?

She was kidding, but still: no. I still have fond memories of my time on those lumbering things. Even now, the thunder of Hercules engines at idle can make me smile.