over

This weekend we visited a different church.

I know a lot of people in this group, one a classmate of Miriam’s reminds me that her grandparents and my grandparents were friends back in the 1920’s.

There were two couples and a guy whose wife was out of town. The sermon was to the point and well delivered. We were invited to stay for the visitors potluck and we did.

So on our way home we were quite happy. Good sermon, good food, good friends.

As we drove by the airport for our town I saw a small very black pillar of smoke. It was an angry color. The forest service taught me about smoke. Dark smoke means something ore than grass is burning.

As we drove by we strained out heads to see what was the cause of the smoke. I was sitting in the back seat on the smoke side. I got a good look. Though it was a mile or so away. The smoke was coming from right next to the county road on a fence line.


Could some one be burning brush and thrown a tire on the fire? It seemed too hot for that.

The next day we found out what it was.

An airplane had taken off from the airport, had trouble gaining altitude, and was trying to circle around and land, but it went through some power lines slowing it further and crashing it into the fence.

The article said the plane was burned so bad it was difficult to even know what kind it was.

The next day there was more details. A young pilot killed. A plane destroyed.

My dad had just such an accident once. He crashed his after going through some power lines, but he was able to keep it from a hard impact so there was no fire, and there was minimal damage to the plane.

Was dad a better, more skilled pilot? Was he lucky and this one this weekend very unlucky?

Of course there was no answer, but as I read the story I could not help but remember.

It was over quickly for the pilot, but the family will grieve for years to come.

There are no guarantees in this life.