Member-only story
I’ll Never Hear My Father Say ‘Thank You’
But as the person he asked to write his story, I should’ve thanked him.
It was a cold day in February.
As I approached the small auditorium located inside the Smithsonian’s Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC, I saw my father standing in the doorway cheerfully greeting each of the attendees who had come to hear him speak.
When Dad saw me he gave me a big hug and kiss, and flashed his winning smile. With his radiant brown skin and wavy black hair graying only around his temples, my father was a handsome man.
I didn’t know very much about how he’d become a Weather Officer and Lieutenant Colonel in the U.S. Air Force, but I did know that he was well respected and he delighted in sharing stories about his past experiences.
He was wearing that distinctive, red sports jacket — the official uniform of The Tuskegee Airmen organization. He was not one of the original fighter pilots, but the group had expanded its membership to other select African American military men and women because many of the original fliers were aging or had died. They decided this type of open membership was necessary in order to keep The Tuskegee Airmen legacy alive. Dad lived in the DC area, so he was actively involved with the East Coast chapter of the…
