04/23/2022
Lynn Murphy Mark
Airport reverie.
San Juan airport – check. Someday I’ll make a list of the airports I’ve visited in the last 72 years. There are a lot of them that I can remember and probably some I’ve forgotten. This “odyssey” started in November of 1949 from New York City to Mexico City. As I was six weeks of age, I have no recollection of that trip. But that started it off for me.
From Mexico City we started flying locally. My favorite flight would have been from the city to Guadalajara. From there it was a very small plane to Puerto Vallarta, where the airport featured a grass landing strip. PV had not been discovered yet and it was vacation heaven for us and a permanent home for many USA expatriates. Those people were fancy free and alcoholic. I swear there were contests to see who could drink who under the table!
For Homeleave every three years we flew to Fort Worth to catch a flight to New York City. When Pop’s business was concluded we flew to Tulsa to see my mother’s mother. She lived in a house where drapes were always closed and a lot of the ornate furniture had plastic slip covers. After a brief visit (about all my Pop could take…he disliked his mother-in-law so much that when he filled out my birth certificate he forgot to name me after her. So instead of Laura Lynn Murphy, I remained Lynn Murphy until I got married.)
Flights to Indianapolis meant we were going to visit the Murphy siblings and cousins. I loved being on the farms and couldn’t wait to get there. Now they were fun! No plastic slip covers in their wonderful comfortable houses.
In my teen age years my parents took me to Europe. Italy. France. England. Buildings so old and decorative that they command respect and deference. Once in Milan my Pop announced that he was not going in another God Damned cathedral and that he would sit on the steps and wait for us. God has a sense of humor: while we were inside admiring stuff a pigeon pooped on my Pop’s head.
Oops. Time to board. As I enter the plane I pat it for a good flight. It’s an old old habit that has kept me safe for many thousands of air miles. Bon Voyage, all!