They All Like to Fly, Not I

There I am, on a perfectly delightful San Francisco afternoon, with niece Lisa, right, my sister Kathy (both from Luray, VA), and my other niece Debbie (in from Phoenix), last Sunday,outside the Cliff House.

How much the weather reminded me of being raised down the street in the park, in the windmill tender's house.  Of being serenaded, day after day, by the roaring gloom of the ocean forever rushing to reach the mean grey icy cold sand.  We are not in Santa Monica!

We had a great time, nonetheless.  All of the "girls" love to travel, and in the air.  Lisa was a flight attendant.  Debbie has worked for years booking travel for American Express members, and Kathy once, while a resident of South Pasadena, was employed by Sigmund Travel.

Even my mother, bless her fearless heart, once harbored fragile dreams of piloting an airplane.

So how did I end up so grounded?  Blame it on a few bad flights, and leave it at that. But with my vow not to ride Amtrak across the country anymore, I may have to fly again,  Or take the bus.  Or roller skate.