I was born the last child out of four in Bridgeton, NJ in 1955; ten years to the day after the US Army took the Remagen Bridge in Germany. My parents, who were Catholics, decided after me that birth control wasn't such a bad idea and became Lutherans. (Missouri Synod).



Spent my first eight years in Bridgeton and then my dad, who drove a forklift for Owens Illinois Glass, was promoted to management and got us the hell out of Jersey. Nothing against southern Jersey -- the river looked nice when it caught on fire every year. We moved to Charlotte Michigan -- home of the "fighting Oriels" (really). Made the best friends of my young life and was actually a gang leader of sorts. Then we moved again when I was ten to Lakeland Florida where I was friendless and basically a pimply-faced nothing.



It was during my New Jersey and Michigan time that I decided to become a pilot, an astronaut a world class lover, a secret agent, a platoon leader on the show "Combat" and then a pilot again. My plan was this: Go to the Air Force Academy. Become a fighter pilot and kill Japs (or Nazis or whatever) Marry a hammer of a Blond wife with huge boobs who would support my every move and look great in a bikini.(Kind of like Carol on Mr. Ed)



She would also support my second calling -- art and painting. I began painting tulips in Michigan before I realized I sucked at art and started drawing the Hulk (no, I'm not gay) and spitfires shooting Me109s.



My plan continued -- I would then move easily into the airline world where I would earn zillions of bucks, have a hangar full of cool airplanes, kids who could solve mysteries at the old mill and maybe if I had time I would fit in being a starship captain for a while.



It almost all worked.



I began biking to the airport in Lakeland -- then called Drane Field -- seven and a half miles on a two lane road with no line. (It was replaced by that highway/abortion called the cross Florida memorial rip-off toll way to nowhere)



After the move to Florida I generally got beat up a lot had about two friends, avoided people, including my family. I became an eagle scout because it was expected of me (my brother and my dad were eagles). I generally spent my time sweating my developing testicles off, eating like a hibernation-bound bear and watching black & white sitcoms like The Munsters and Gomer Pyle, USMC. -- The only combat Marine never to see duty in Vietnam in the mid 1960s.



My parents lost interest in me when I was 15 after the other kids were gone, so I started working part time as a janitor at a Soil Lab. Later, I worked as a bellboy, busboy, and spread sand and lime on lawns for money. I spent about every other night at home and the other nights at friend's houses.



Then, when I was a junior in high school, three things happened almost at the same time: I was put on the yearbook staff, I met Maggie, and I became a full-time line boy for Lakeland Flying Service. I soloed at 16 was licensed at 17 and by age 19 was a commercial pilot and flight instructor. I stayed in my line boy job until college because it paid way better than instructing with the added feature that I could cuss, smoke and drink.



The Yearbook Staff led to all this writing I am doing and an overpowering love of doing layout and picking fonts. Also, being on yearbook staff meant you could cut class and leave campus anytime you want. This was handy during our frequent violent race riots. I only got mugged twice in high school – both times it had to do with bathrooms. Once I was beat down by a kid with a belt buckle and the othe time I was beat down by a coach with a huge piece of wood. (the coach got reprimanded – I got a dozen stitches in my ass.)



Maggie was a turning point and I am still married to her after 34 years. There is a whole book there, but when you read about your soul mates like Bach and Parrish, they can't hold our jock strap. We were for real, Richard. (Who by the way, I flew with a lot in Lakeland right after JLS came out)



Went to FSU (that is Florida State University to you Yankees) Flew Bobbie Bowden to and from his job interview as football coach. Got an American studies degree and roughly 3500 flight hours doing everything from instructing, towing banners, hauling dead bodies, corporate flying, turtle survey, smoke bombers, fire ant bombers, air show support, sales, ground school teaching, office managing, etc etc...blah blah blah



Ended up with an American Studies Degree - a highly profitable field of study if there ever was one.



Life went on after graduation. I had long hair, 20/20 vision, a beautiful wife, a car that started almost every time and a dresser drawer full of pot that my students gave me from time to time as a gift. I ended up giving almost all of it away, which made me the most popular guy at Monterey Apartments. Never liked the stuff -- your whole day was wasted and I didn't have all that much spare time.



In 1978 at the age of 23 and a half I half-heartedly filled out a Delta Airlines application with a dull pencil when I was up in ATL on a charter. Turned it in by hand and was reporting for my pilot class there four weeks after I turned it in -- SOA 79 baby! (Second officer, class "A" -- meaning the first class of the year)



I passed my flight engineer stuff courtesy of my roommate Jeff Frey and the saga went on from there. Based in Atlanta, Chicago, New York and Cincinnati. Flew all three seats of the 727, both seats of the DC-9, both seats of the 767/757, the 767er, the 737, both on the 777, sideways (engineer) on the DC-8 and L1011. I know that was a lot of airplanes but as a general aviation guy I could not believe they were PAYING me to get free jet type ratings.



I did a two year prison sentence working as creative director for Delta Flight Ops. Dismal -- very little flying and too much time in a windowless cubicle. Yuck.



In 2005 after almost twenty seven years, 20,000 flight hours, fourteen missed Christmases, no crashes, no deaths, no violations, some questionable layover activity a kidney transplant and a company bankruptcy I retired early at age 50 because I had accrued such a nice pension.



Then they took the entire pension in the bankruptcy proceedings.



I don't paint, my wife isn't blond, hasn't worn a bikini since 1979 and I won't go into chest measurements. Never became a starship captain or killed any Japanese or Germans (that I know about) but I did get to do all the airline flying I wanted.



Did Europe. Did all the airplanes I ever wanted to do and left while I was still young enough to write the great American novel, have a platonic relationship with Ashley Judd and watch my future grandkids grow up to form a better human race.



The past four years have been the most fun of all. I get to fly little airplanes, my first love, again. My wife never did actually dote on me like Carol from Mr. Ed would have, but from time to time will put a little cinnamon sugar on my morning toast. Also, she puts up with my bullshit, which is no mean feat.



I have had at least ten good dogs and twenty good horses. My current dog is my best friend. I get to work at home and my kidneys are no longer trying to slowly kill me.



I am happy, can eat ice-cream any damn time I want and generally don't have to take crap off of anybody. Since I live on a horse farm I can pee off of my porch (if I want, which isn't often... I'm just saying...) shoot things from my office and buy expensive farm equipment and pretend I know what to do with it.



Life is good and I have at least fifty more years to go!



kevin g