Flying By the Seat of my Pants

When the email didn't work this week, I figured the internet was down all over town, and to tell you the truth, was kind of relieved. My house is full-- with Eliza and baby James and JJ and for a bit her husband, and then their Haines sisters and children are here, and well, let's just say we are now in full Camp Mimi mode. (There are three Golden Retrievers too, and three chickens, and four baby Stellar Jays in a nest on top of the light on the corner of the garage that we are very protective of.)

Then I learned it was just my internet, and I haven't quite fixed it yet, so I'm typing this the 'old school' way, plugged into a phone cord. That is not so bad either, as the only place I can work is at my desk right now, so there's a built in focus.

We had a Planning Commission meeting Thursday and there were a lot of emails from  residents begging us not to permit another heli-port out the road, and to please have them stick to the airport. At the meeting, once again I felt like I must live in a different Haines than the Borough administration, Mayor, and all the commissioners, after I was the only one who didn't support and who voted against adding another controversial heliport and helicopter business, basically, with year-round unconditional use, and no defined plans for types of use or numbers or anything concrete at all.

It's not that I don't like flying, or helicopters, it's just that I'm old school, and I prefer using airports for departures and arrivals when I fly. (And I live nearby, so understand that it means more noise for me, but there was an airport there when  we moved here.) Haines has a fairly quiet airport that is mostly a very big parking lot for a fleet of commercial planes that don't fly anymore from a company that doesn't exist anymore. 

Helicopters don't have much room to land, it's true, but that's partly, it seems to me, because the old planes take up a lot of space down by the heli-pad, so I can see why some argue that it isn't safe, but I think that has less to do with the size of the airport and more to do with the junk planes occupying a lot of it.

My son-in-law needed to tie down his new-used plane ( a vintage Super Cub) but the old hulks are using just about all the public tie downs, so we could only find a place with two out of three anchors, and it was windy this week, so he took the plane back to Juneau to prevent any damage. 

Still, I did get to fly with him before he left-- and as I am a bit of nervous flyer- I felt it was my parental duty to make sure my daughter and her dear husband are safe-- and since the chaos at my house was fairly high and a little solitude was not such a bad alternative, I said 'yes' when Bryan asked if I wanted a ride. My favorite part was that we flew with the windows of his plane open wide. I felt like Anne Morrow Lindbergh. 

It seems to me that there's so much room out there, we should be able to fly and see this world around us, without driving our friends and neighbors nuts. That's what planning is for, right?

Here's a post card of our flight. ( And no, I don't have any grandchildren pictures yet, as they don't wear clothes when the sun is shining, and I want to keep them safe, too.) 



-- or hopefull


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