“Untitled” by Charles August Lindbergh

Science, freedom, beauty, adventure:

What more could you ask of life?

Aviation combined all the elements I loved.

There was science in each curve of an airfoil,

in each angle between strut and wire,

in the gap of a spark plug

or the color of the exhaust pipe.

There was freedom in the unlimited horizon,

on the open fields where one landed.

A pilot was surrounded by beauty of earth and sky.

He brushed treetops with the birds,

leapt valleys and rivers,

explored the cloud canyons he had gazed at as a child.

Adventure lay in each puff of the wind.

I began to feel that I lived on a higher plane

than the skeptics of the ground,

one that was richer because of its very association

with the element of danger they dreaded,

because it was free of the earth

to which they were bound.

In flying, I tasted the wine of the gods

of which they could know nothing.

Who valued life more highly,

the aviators who spent it on the art they loved,

or these misers who doled it out,

like pennies through their ant-like days?

I decided that if I could fly for ten years

before I was killed in a crash,

it would be a worthwhile trade

for an ordinary lifetime.

Lindbergh was a progressive thinker for a man who lived between 1902 and 1974. While I could list the things he is renowned for – such as being the first man to receive the Distinguished Flying Cross and his work as an ambassador – what is fascinating about Lindbergh is that he taught his wife how to fly.

He married Anne in 1929 and in 1930, she was the first woman to ever receive a glider’s pilot license, and she earned her pilot’s license in the same year. For several years, she acted as his co-pilot and navigator.

That he was progressive enough in the 1930’s, when women were typically viewed as suitable only for the purposes of housekeeping and raising children, speaks volumes about the kind of man he was.

 

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