AOPA Pilot Magazine - January 2012 - 87

Unanimous dislike My mom was a divorced public school physical education teacher with four young sons when she and John met in the early 1970s. My brothers and I were unanimous in our disdain for him at first. He was strict, sarcastic, and spoke with a New York accent that begged to be mocked. But his love for our mom was total, and that— over many years—outweighed our misgivings. Mom was already a private pilot when they met, and she and John built a Rutandesigned VariEze in the late 1970s. Later, they had a onefourth partnership in a V-tail Bonanza. She flew and he did the navigation and maintenance, and he was always amused that the vast majority of the people they met assumed he was the pilot. A child of the Great Depression, John never had the luxury of indulging in athletics during his youth. But when he retired, he pursued endurance sports with determination and astonishing results. He completed his first Ironman triathlon at age 63 and his last in Kona, Hawaii, at age 74. He also set age-group records in distance swimming and the 50-mile run. While other athletes monitored their diets closely, he munched Twinkies and Oreos. He was totally supportive of his stepsons’ flying ambitions, and never more proud than the day he pinned on my younger brother Harry’s Navy wings. John died of cancer at 82, and family members were all given decorative boxes containing some of his ashes. I had kept mine in an out-of-the-way dresser drawer ever since. I took the box on several flying trips thinking that I’d have a chance to drop the contents over the Statue of Liberty, but that never happened. The well-traveled ashes had always returned home with me—until now. A thankless job Mom strapped into the back seat of the Tornado Husky, propped up on an extra cushion, and I handed her a Garmin GPSMAP 696 on a kneeboard to keep her

Aerospace engineer John Melville discovered endurance sports during retirement and participated in multiple Ironman triathlons. The last (above) was in Kona, Hawaii, in 2004.

His love for our mom was total and that— over many years—outweighed our misgivings.
occupied during the 90-minute flight to New York City. She stowed the box of ashes in the front seatback. “Sometimes you want to hold onto them and sometimes you want to let them go,” she said in a rare philosophical moment a few minutes after we took off. “Personally, I wanted them gone a long time ago. I spread them in the garden at home.” Another brother distributed his share in Hawaii, site of John’s Ironman struggles and triumphs. Between New York, California, and Hawaii, the key places in his life all would be represented. Mom had the New York Terminal Area Chart spread out on her lap as we approached the city’s towering skyline. I had been concerned that air traffic on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon would be high, but it turned out to be quite manageable at the time we arrived. We flew north over the Verrazano bridge, the USS Intrepid, and other New York City landmarks—all the way to the George Washington Bridge—before making a 180-degree turn to the south. “The Freedom Tower looks incredible,” my mom said as we went by the upper floors still under construction above us. “John would really like seeing that, although he’d wonder why the hell it’s taking so long.” On our way south, we overflew Ellis Island, the place where John’s ancestors (as well as our own) first landed in the United States. At 1,000 feet over the Statue of Liberty, a cool, swirling wind indicated Mom had slid the Tornado Husky’s left side window open. A moment later, we both said a silent prayer as she released the ashes.
AOPA PILOT • 87 • JANUARY 2012

AOPA Pilot Magazine - January 2012

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of AOPA Pilot Magazine - January 2012