In my mother’s files, I found a thick folder with clippings about Amelia Earhart. Amelia grew up in the small Kansas town of Atchison. These were recent clippings, probably as inspiration for an article Mom wanted to write about this adventurous woman.
I’m sure as my mother grew up, everyone talked about Earhart’s flights and her life. Her disappearance in 1937 on the flight around the world happened when my mother was an impressionable 13-year-old.
My mother, Gail, could identify with the tomboyish Amelia who rambled around the bluffs along the Missouri River and leaped over fences. Gail wrote about her childhood days of wearing overalls and tagging along with her father in the Flint Hills.
As it turns out, my mother’s ambitions to learn to fly and be another Amelia Earhart did not survive the war-time years. Instead of flying a two-seat bi-plane, she worked at Boeing on bombers for the troops.
She managed to take one lesson and to soar above the clouds as a passenger for that one time. Marriage and children and responsibilities filled her life after the war. She never set foot in an airplane again in her long life.