Abby watched him eat. She could imagine how bad the oatmeal tasted. It had sat there for more than an hour. She asked, “It is Saturday. What are you...going to do?”“I’ll mow my lawn, Claire’s lawn, and the lawn next door,” Jack said. There wasn’t that much else that could be done that weekend.Abby said, “I had such plans on taking a hot bath this weekend.”“Sorry. The banks really did a number on us,” Jack said. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he had been dreaming about taking a long hot shower. Missing the dorsal turrets ... but still had that ugly glass nose. A variant of the Beechcraft 18, they looked ... abandoned. And, more or less ... that’s what they were. Sitting long enough to have nesting Doves in the cowlings and flat and checked tires, I felt sorry for them.Every day I taxied the J-3 Cub past them and generally edged towards them. Forlorn ... they were. A part of American History, Socialism would rather forget ... days of real heroes ... and real deaths.The FAA had. More

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