Hey, y’all. Yes, I’ve gone from rarely blogging to a regular schedule. I had planned to leave Thursdays open, but yesterday an idea came to mind – Thursday Thoughts. I don’t know if I’ll write these each week, but I do plan to have a Thursday post at least a couple of times per month.
The idea behind the post is random thoughts about something that caught my attention during the week. They may or may not pertain to writing. I hope you will enjoy them.
A coworker once asked me where I got ideas for my novels. My first response was, “A very active imagination.” While that is true, I recalled standing on the deck of a cruise ship with a friend a few years back admiring the beautiful scenery. Except for our ship, there were few signs of civilization, but I knew beyond those mountains were tiny towns and villages.
People lived and worked in those places. I began to wonder what their lives were like in a place with such harsh winters. What did they do for a living? How did they survive (without going crazy) during the winter months where they saw little or no daylight? Story ideas began to pop in my head.
After we returned home, I came across this quote by Orson Scott Card:
“Everybody walks past a thousand story ideas every day. The good writers are the ones who see five or six of them. Most people don’t see any.”
Last week I happened upon a story that deeply touched me. It was a story fifty-two years in the making. The story of a father and a son.
In 1967 Major Roy A. Knight, a US Air Force pilot, was shot down while flying a mission over Laos. He was first declared missing in action. Military officials later changed his status to killed in action. He was posthumously promoted to Colonel and received several medals and commendations. Unfortunately for his family, his body was never located or recovered.
Almost fifty-two years passed until February 2019 when discovered remains were positively identified as belonging to Colonel Knight. Last Thursday, August 8, his son Brian, a Captain with Southwest Airlines, flew the plane carrying his father’s coffin into Dallas Love Field airport.
A “water salute” greeted the plane as it taxied toward the terminal. People inside the airport watched with interest as the plane pulled up to the jet bridge. Baggage handlers stood at attention. Passengers inside the plane clapped when they learned what had transpired. Many tears were shed, including my own.
For you see, Brian Knight was only five years old when he last saw his father in 1967. And the place they were last together? Dallas Love Field Airport.
I have always had the utmost respect for the men and women in our military. They put their lives on the line so we might have the freedoms we enjoy (and often take for granted). Colonel Knight’s story reminded me of the sacrifices made by many throughout the years.
Below is a short video of Captain Knight talking about his father and the trip “home.” Warning: you may want to have tissues handy.
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