A new tradition

[spacegrrrl]

I find myself in Seattle, away from pilots (or folks) that get it, toasting people that changed my life. I know every one in these forums know what I mean. So, I propose that every final Sunday of every Reno we all stop whatever we are doing and toast the heros that have changed our lives. A moment for those that have left us and a moment for all those that remain to remind us of the wonder of flight, the challenge that every race embraces. Those modern day heros that show us the best of the human condition. Those that say:

I can be better!

I can be faster!

I can FLY!!!!!

I will lift a glass to these heros every last Sunday of every Reno at 9:00 PST. Please will you join me?

Michele

[turneight]

Re: A new tradition

To the Families

To the Crews

To the Pilots

TO ALL THE HERO'S

[wyhdah]

Re: A new tradition

I'll raise a toast to all the pilots in the past that not only raced but flew when dying was not just possible but a good possiblity. Their courage to go on racing, testing and more importantly flying has made both racing and aviation safer and accessible.

cheers!

[Fence Sence]

Re: A new tradition

I'll toast with ya.

To all those who go out and chase that dream, come hell or highwater, this one's for you.

[Lockheed Bob]

Re: A new tradition

I'll toast with you. At 75 Air Races have been part of my life since being a youngster in Cleveland,Ohio. Just read "Flight" written by a young WWII pilot prior to losing his own life. A toast to them all.

[blacksheep]

Re: A new tradition

High Flight
by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds...and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of...wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up, the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor even eagle flew.
And while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space...
...put out my hand, and touched the face of God.




nuff said