Is there a place, building
or even a city that serves as a landmark representing a major event, or events, in your life? When you
see or visit such a place, do you find yourself quickly going back in time and remembering all the feelings and memories to
times long ago. One of those places for me was the Dean’s office at Moon Valley High School in Phoenix.
During a tour of the campus during our 30-Year Reunion, my gut and certain muscles tightened up as we toured through
that office. Some of my less than finest hours were spent having “one-on-one’s” with
the late Dewey Williams. I still say that he allowed me to graduate because he lost his lunch at the prospects
of having me for more than the requisite four years!
On to more serious landmarks.
After a recent visit with my parents, I was waiting at
the McGhee-Tyson airport in my home town area of Maryville/Knoxville, Tennessee, waiting for my plane to arrive for the flight
home to Dallas. While strategically seated in one of the many rocking chairs (yes, rocking chairs and the
airport doesn’t double as a Cracker Barrel restaurant) that are throughout the airport, I took advantage of the time
to catch up on e-mails and work. I was rocking away when I stopped what I was doing and looked out the
massive windows towards the beautiful Tennessee hills to the south and west. That’s the region where
many of my family lived and some continue to live. I got to thinking of the major events that this airport
building and its predecessors represented to me.
My first plane trip landed at one the previous McGhee-Tyson
terminals back in October, 1973. My parents, sister, and I flew back to Tennessee for the funeral of my
maternal grandfather. We were back to that airport seven months later for my maternal grandmother’s
funeral. Come to think of it, five of my first six plane trips were to McGhee-Tyson and almost always to
ever newer versions. The rendezvous’ at McGhee-Tyson in those days were to see family, friends and
girlfriends. Each departure from that airport usually saw me leaving with one more piece of baggage than
I came with: the baggage of deep sadness in having to leave behind my home town and the great fun I had
with everybody during my visit. It would usually take a few weeks for the wounds from carrying that baggage
to heal but there always remained a very soft spot in my heart for the hills of Tennessee.
In more recent years, with my
parents and other dear relatives getting up in years, I find that the same piece of baggage winds up with me each and every
time I check in at McGhee-Tyson. That bag has gotten lighter over the years as I have my home and family
waiting for me and I always can’t wait to get back to them. Yet, the bag is still with me just the
same. With lost luggage being a given in air travel, why hasn’t that beat up old bag gotten lost during one of my many
trips? I’m just wondering.
McGhee-Tyson Airport represents my family roots and the legacy that they have left me.
Whenever I fly in and out of that airport, I see the Alcoa Aluminum plant where my maternal grandfather worked since
he was a boy until his retirement. Next to that plant is the cemetery where he and my grandmother, an uncle
are buried. The plane usually flies right over it and, if I’m sitting on the left side of the plane,
I can see their grave stones. Further out to the east is Blount Memorial Hospital where I was born and
further east, still, are the Great Smoky Mountains where my parents and sister and her family currently live.
Further south from the airport my paternal grandparents are buried – not to terribly far from the family farm
that is currently owned and cared for by one of my cousins.
With my plane now at the gate, I packed up my laptop and boarded the plane where, shortly
thereafter, it took off in to the dark western sky. As it did, I looked down on the state that I love so
much and wondered if that old, painful but very familiar bag might finally been left behind.
It wasn’t and I don’t
think it ever will.
