Jimmy’s First Flight

My grandson, Jimmy, had never flown. It was 1995. Jimmy was nine years old. The two of us were going to the first-ever Pierron Family Reunion in Pierron, Illinois, arranged for the most part by my sister, Joan (pronounced JOH-ANN) Murphy, of Denver.

Among those to attend were Jean Charles Pierron, of Essey (suburban Nancy, France), our fourth cousin (!!!) and my son Bill from New York. My other sons attended in more recent reunion years.

Jimmy was all in favor of going with me. He was excited about the whole trip, but especially the flights. It was TWA Philadelphia to St. Louis (St. Louis being about 40 miles west of Pierron, IL). This was several years before TWA folded (December, 2001).

I got a window seat for Jimmy. This boy was so excited; it was part of the fun of the whole trip. But I also could tell he was trying to be manly-sophisticated and “adult” and cool and casual.

Looking out the window as we left the gate fascinated him. A new world was opening up to him. He watched intently during the takeoff and the ascent. I laughed to myself watching his eyes get bigger and bigger, but he still outwardly maintained his calm, as though he was an experienced flyer.

It was about a two-hour flight to St. Louis, and for the first hour, Jimmy carried on, periodically, a conversation but not about the flight. After all, he wanted to be “cool”.

However, after a long silence, about an hour into the flight, he turned to me and became a child again.

In a child’s matter-of-fact tone: “Ya know…. I’m surprised.”

“What are you surprised about?” I asked.

“Well, you know.” And he hesitated. “You know, nothing’s happened!”

His concern about the perceived dangers of air travel was implicit and coming to the surface.

I asked: “What DID you E X P E C T to happen?”

“Nothing !!!!!” he practically yelled.