I went with the boys to the Air Zoo in Kalamazoo, Michigan. It’s a large hangar filled with planes from early 20th century bi-planes to more modern aircraft like an F-18 fighter jet.
I didn’t get much of a chance to stop and read about each one, my boys were too intrigued by the indoor carnival rides with their brightly painted old-timey planes attached by a hydraulic arm to a rotating engine. I did get some moments to look around and take in this assortment of mankind’s history of arial conquer.. and what an amazing feat to walk down. I used to be in love with flight, assembling model B-52s, blasting rockets, and even attending the holiest of holies for little space nerds: Space Camp.
But like many of us, that passion seemed to fade proportionately with my childhood. Perhaps as the world lost its lustre so did the finish on my model Saturn V.
Today, walking among riveted steel bodies and wood-winged war planes of WWII, a little spark seemed to return. To gaze at what we have been unable to accomplish as a species in such a relatively short span of time, to take flight, to send dozens of people across the globe in hours even see our planet from space. Yeah, it sparked, and for a jet engine, a little spark can lead to a tremendous conflagration.