Read Online Taking Flight by Sarah Solmonson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Solmonson
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aviation enthusiast. I think Dad waited until he had the ring on her finger before showing her the full extent of his obsession with airplanes.
I suppose you never know what you will be getting from your spouse after the years begin to pass. I doubt Mom knew that Dad would dedicate six years of his life, of their lives, to building an airplane. Did she ever expect that Dad would take over their house, their time, and their finances to create an airplane?
Once Dad began to build his plane, my parents’ lives revolved around the needs of the plane. Mom was a woman who believed completely in her husband and the importance of seeing his dream to fruition. I think that as Mom saw how large of a project Dad was taking on she realized she had two choices: do just enough to get by and get it done, or dive right in and become an expert in all things related to experimental aircrafts. I hope that Dad remembered, in all his stress and frustration, to tell her thank you. A million times still wouldn’t be enough for how much she did for him and his plane. I bet there are many experimental aircrafts that are flying right now that exist largely because the pilot was lucky enough to have a loving, supportive spouse.
There were many times while Dad was working when he wanted to quit. Flying might be great fun, but building an airplane, according to Dad, “is a bitch!” Every time Dad hit a bump in the road his doom-and-gloom persona would kick in, and he would pout and stomp his feet, convinced it was time to quit. Mom knew just how to calm him down or distract him. Once he was out of his own way she would take on the job of calling specialty wood sellers, looking for the Douglas Fir two-by-fours that his blueprints called for. Or she would drive to seven different hardware stores to buy a specific sized bolt that Dad was convinced he would never get his hands on. Some days she just had to bring Dad China Pagoda take out and a cold Pepsi to get him back on track. Whatever Dad needed, Mom was there.
My mother has alluded to other methods of motivation and distraction that happened in that basement while I played obliviously upstairs. While I would rather not think about it, I would be more disturbed if my parents hadn’t been sneaking around like teenagers. At least I think I would be.
Throughout the building process, Mom learned that aviation hadn’t quite caught up with the women’s movement – the aviation industry was dominated by men. Men who worked for companies who in turn had access to the companies who sold all the random, intricate, hard to find (in a world before Google and Amazon) pieces required to build a plane. As if being a woman wasn’t set back enough, when Mom did manage to get a rep on the phone she was repeatedly told that these companies wouldn’t deal with a private buyer.
My Mom is a stubborn, enthusiastic woman. She likes a challenge, and the airplane became just as much her project as it was Dad’s. Mom was playing on our computer one night when she happened upon a template for designing business cards. Computers had just begun to infiltrate American households in the late 90’s, and Mom was still trying to figure out how to get the mouse to move where she wanted it to go. I don’t know how long she played with that template, but a few days later she came out of Kinko’s with a box of business cards. Norton Aviation was born, and Jan Norton was listed as parts manager. She even designed a tiny black plane in the upper right corner. She was ready to play with the big boys.
As Parts Manager, Jan Norton had doors opened for her left and right. Whatever she wanted, she was able to order. A phone call for fiberglass or sheet metal and in a couple minutes a purchase order would be put together. Sometimes I would go with Mom to pick up the parts, and I would watch from the car as my five-foot-one mother would saunter up to the shipping dock to sign the receipt. She gladly gave the confused looking man
I suppose you never know what you will be getting from your spouse after the years begin to pass. I doubt Mom knew that Dad would dedicate six years of his life, of their lives, to building an airplane. Did she ever expect that Dad would take over their house, their time, and their finances to create an airplane?
Once Dad began to build his plane, my parents’ lives revolved around the needs of the plane. Mom was a woman who believed completely in her husband and the importance of seeing his dream to fruition. I think that as Mom saw how large of a project Dad was taking on she realized she had two choices: do just enough to get by and get it done, or dive right in and become an expert in all things related to experimental aircrafts. I hope that Dad remembered, in all his stress and frustration, to tell her thank you. A million times still wouldn’t be enough for how much she did for him and his plane. I bet there are many experimental aircrafts that are flying right now that exist largely because the pilot was lucky enough to have a loving, supportive spouse.
There were many times while Dad was working when he wanted to quit. Flying might be great fun, but building an airplane, according to Dad, “is a bitch!” Every time Dad hit a bump in the road his doom-and-gloom persona would kick in, and he would pout and stomp his feet, convinced it was time to quit. Mom knew just how to calm him down or distract him. Once he was out of his own way she would take on the job of calling specialty wood sellers, looking for the Douglas Fir two-by-fours that his blueprints called for. Or she would drive to seven different hardware stores to buy a specific sized bolt that Dad was convinced he would never get his hands on. Some days she just had to bring Dad China Pagoda take out and a cold Pepsi to get him back on track. Whatever Dad needed, Mom was there.
My mother has alluded to other methods of motivation and distraction that happened in that basement while I played obliviously upstairs. While I would rather not think about it, I would be more disturbed if my parents hadn’t been sneaking around like teenagers. At least I think I would be.
Throughout the building process, Mom learned that aviation hadn’t quite caught up with the women’s movement – the aviation industry was dominated by men. Men who worked for companies who in turn had access to the companies who sold all the random, intricate, hard to find (in a world before Google and Amazon) pieces required to build a plane. As if being a woman wasn’t set back enough, when Mom did manage to get a rep on the phone she was repeatedly told that these companies wouldn’t deal with a private buyer.
My Mom is a stubborn, enthusiastic woman. She likes a challenge, and the airplane became just as much her project as it was Dad’s. Mom was playing on our computer one night when she happened upon a template for designing business cards. Computers had just begun to infiltrate American households in the late 90’s, and Mom was still trying to figure out how to get the mouse to move where she wanted it to go. I don’t know how long she played with that template, but a few days later she came out of Kinko’s with a box of business cards. Norton Aviation was born, and Jan Norton was listed as parts manager. She even designed a tiny black plane in the upper right corner. She was ready to play with the big boys.
As Parts Manager, Jan Norton had doors opened for her left and right. Whatever she wanted, she was able to order. A phone call for fiberglass or sheet metal and in a couple minutes a purchase order would be put together. Sometimes I would go with Mom to pick up the parts, and I would watch from the car as my five-foot-one mother would saunter up to the shipping dock to sign the receipt. She gladly gave the confused looking man
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