Poems and Thoughts    by Frank Maurer

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Flying III. At the Airport. I dreamed of flying all through my childhood-- First, by having actual wings which were a part of my body musculature, Followed by a more realistic bonding with actual flying machines. Growing older--10 or 12--I often asked my father About the many stories I heard him tell concerning testing, the terrible 'bends', And the triumphs and manufacture of his war-time inventions. (My father did a great deal of business flying-- Let alone, having designed the oxygen mask and other related equipment For higher flights--41,000 feet--by our pilots during WWII, Who were assaulted from above by--for a while--Axis pilots.) As a result of hearing all this past history during my youth, I wanted to see real aircraft and thus one day, Departed with my father to the Boston Logan International Airport to watch planes! There was a long viewing ramp along the roof On which I roamed from area to area-- Following all the arrivals and departures of every airline--a thrill a moment! I could have wandered back and forth forever, But there was always that time to go home. Frank Maurer 3 June 2023 1430 Hours.