My First Time in an Airplane

Church was a big part of my life as a young boy. One of my earliest memories is of sitting in a pew with my mother at the United Advent Christian Church in Wilmington, NC. I could not have been more than three or four years old, as I remember my feet did not touch the floor. Many of the men at the church had patches on the elbows of their blazers, a style popular in the 1970s and early 80s. As a child, almost an infant, I thought these were pads to protect the men in case they fell down.

Mom held my hand, and I began to play a game where I took my hand out of hers and then walked my two fingers down her arm toward me before I quickly put my hand back in hers and she grabbed it. I repeated this over and over, and Mom silently played along as she listened to the preacher.

Of course, I was too young to understand my emotions at the time, but looking back now, the game fascinated me because I felt a sense of separation anxiety when I took my hand and began to walk it away from hers. The anxiety went away just as soon as I grabbed her hand again. I remember doing it over and over, and each time I would feel waves of sadness wash over me until I grabbed her hand again.

Later in my childhood, the family moved to Lumberton, North Carolina and we joined Hyde Park Baptist Church. Every so often, the church hosted a "Revival," where a guest preacher came in and we had services every night for a week.

One time, the revival preacher who came into town owned a Cessna airplane. He told the children that he would give a ride to whoever could recite the books of the Bible in order to him.

That same afternoon, I dedicated myself to learning the books, and that evening after the service was over, I went up and recited the books to him.

The preacher kept his word. Dad drove the family out to the Lumberton airport, and the preacher was there to meet us with his plane.

I brought my stuffed animals along so that they could see the world from above, too. "Otto" the Red Raccoon and my dachshund, "Cricket" were among those that made the trip with me.

My brother was about a year and a half younger than me, and he had not memorized the books like I had.

He was so upset about not getting the chance to fly in the airplane, that the preacher decided to take him up as well. Mom did not go up with us, though I can't remember if this was because she just did not want to. It was a four seater plane, and I don't know if the preacher offered to make two flights so that everyone would get a chance to fly.

Dad sat in the front passenger seat, with me behind him. My brother sat behind the preacher, who was of course in the pilot's seat.

As the plane took off, I held all of my stuffed animals up against the window so that they could see out.

To my chagrin, though, the preacher kept the plane cocked to his side for almost the entire flight. The result was that my brother got a great view of Lumberton and the surrounding area, while out my window, I was simply looking straight up at more sky.

Only once did the preacher roll the plane so that I and my stuffed animals could see the ground, and this lasted for just about a minute.

I remember more just straining to see as much as I could out of my brother's window.

At the time, it annoyed me that I had done all the work of memorizing the books of the Bible, but that my brother had gotten the benefit of it.

Now, though, it really does not matter. I'm glad my brother should have a good memory of his first time in an airplane.

Nathan Marshburn