The Magic of Flight that Took Us to L.A.

A very long time ago my cousin, Arnold found a Monarch caterpillar in his front yard and decided to raise it himself.

He watched as it spun itself into a cocoon and then emerged to become a butterfly that flew off into the skies.

There was some sort of magic there and it grew into a passion for flight.  One Christmas, he received this airplane.

After watching his dad, he began to make his own model airplanes, then learned to fly a glider.

When he grew older, he joined the army and spent time in helicopters over Vietnam.

Eventually he became a pilot for Hawaiian Airlines.

My friend, Dave Au (that amazing photographer who doesn't charge enough for his work) took this photo of Arnold.  It was a shock for me because I'd never seen Arnold in his captain's uniform before.

I think he looks rather dashing and awfully handsome, but then I'm biased.

After 34 years of piloting big airplanes across the ocean, Arnold's retirement party was a proud, happy, but perhaps a wistful moment for him.  It's hard for him to give up flying those big jets and all the people who worked with him.

To celebrate this milestone in his life, Arnold treated Art and me to a last trip to Los Angeles before his official retirement day.

That is why Art and I have been gone for the past week visiting Art's sister, Kay and brother-in-law in California.

I'll be writing about our precious time together in the coming days.

And to think it all started with a butterfly.