A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

The following morning we traded wings for sand, climbing the vast slopes of Jockey's Ridge. The dune rose like a golden mountain above the flat coast, its shifting ridges shaped by the wind into playgrounds for anyone willing to scramble and slide. We ran, laughed, and felt the grit of the sand cling to our shoes, the same landscape that had inspired hang gliders and kite flyers for decades.

After everyone had rolled themselves into near exhaustion, we drove the short distance to the Wright Brothers' Memorial. The granite monument marked the spot where Orville and Wilbur first proved that heavier?than?air flight was possible, back in 1903, a reminder that the view we had enjoyed from our small plane the day before, owed its existence to their fragile craft and determined vision.

The path to the memorial wound all the way around the hill, and I guess the kids didn't want to go the long way. John and Karen took off up the hill, until suddenly Karen started yelling for help. There's stickers! she screamed in agony. Stuck on my shoes!

Well… I yelled. Just walk carefully! But she insisted I come rescue her, which I did, even though the hill was steep and I didn't want to get into the sandspurs, either. And then I had to pull the burrs from her shoelaces.

The life of a parent!

The Wright Brothers National Memorial at Kill Devil Hills was completed in 1932, a granite monument rising 60 feet above the dunes to honor the first successful powered flights of Orville and Wilbur Wright in December 1903. Its Art Deco design, carved with stylized wings, symbolizes the leap from dream to reality that changed the course of history. The memorial stands on the very ground where the brothers launched their fragile Flyer, commemorating not only their achievement but also the persistence and ingenuity that made controlled, sustained flight possible. Today it serves as both a landmark and a reminder that modern aviation began on this stretch of wind?swept sand.

And, after that long day, we loaded up the station wagon, and headed home.

We got to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel long after dark. Our luggage was strapped to the top of the vehicle, and, along the way, John suddenly called from the back, I think our suitcase just fell off!

Oh! I cried, Please don't tell me that!

The poor kid apparently thought I meant that literally, so he quickly backtracked. It's probably okay, he said. So we drove on for another mile or so, when a kind of flapping sound from above induced me to stop the car. Sure enough; one of the suitcases was gone and the other had been catching the wind and dropping back on the car roof. We brought it in the station wagon, then went back to try and find the other. Sure enough, there it was, in the middle of the road, opened, with Mary's underwear scattered all over the roadway. This part of the road was over water, and I could see white underthings floating far down below.

So, a lot of inconvenience plus new underthings for Mary. On subsequent trips you can bet I was a lot more careful when tying things to car roofs!