Just reading some of the stories in this month's issue made me queasy. Heart of the Home is all about airplane rides, and for me, that's always a mixed bag.
I can get motion sickness riding to the grocery store. Airplanes have always been a special challenge. Until I discovered the wonders of Dramamine and, later, acupressure wrist bands, I spent many a flight sipping ginger ale and going through breathing exercises to keep from losing my cookies.
It's not all bad, though. Serious airsickness once kept me from marrying the Wrong Man.
After my divorce from my children's father, I moved to a new town for my first newspaper job. A well-to-do young businessman there decided that he would court the new 'photojournalist,' although I tried to assure him that I was actually 'cub reporter,' and the one photo I had in the paper was because I was in the right place at the right time, with a camera.
He told me on our first date that he was a pilot and that his idea of a good weekend involved viewing the countryside from his small plane. I told him my idea of a happy life included never riding in a small plane.
Still, he was determined. I finally relented when he promised that he would fly very calmly and not do anything fancy. Which he did, for about the first 10 minutes of the flight. At that point, he decided the time was ripe for a great big loop. I was already slightly green and working hard to maintain my equilibrium and my lunch. When he looped, my stomach lurched, and I gasped, 'You have to put this plane down right now.'
Our intrepid pilot landed neatly on an abandoned road near a dilapidated barn. The second the plane stopped, I leaped out, dashed behind the barn and heeded my stomach's call. As I stumbled back to the plane, he said, 'I like the way you handle yourself. Will you marry me?'
To which I replied demurely, 'Are you completely crazy? You don't listen,' and a couple of other things we won't go into right now. He asked me out a few more times, but I always managed to be very busy - being a photojournalist, don't you know. My girlfriends thought I was the crazy one - a single woman with two small children to support turning down a proposal from a good-looking, rich man.
I've never doubted that I made the right choice.
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