I wanted to be a pilot like my Dad for as long as I can remember. Since like Kindergarten. I thought what he did was the neatest thing ever.
When I was about 9 or 10, the two of us would sit at the kitchen table for hours after dinner and he would describe flying fighters, the maneuvers they made, guys in his squadron, the latest missions he flew, what worked, what went wrong… I understood very little, but I was fascinated by the stories and the process. I thought that was the only way to spend your life!
When we moved to Las Vegas, we lived at 6B Hogenmiller Circle. It was in the Manch Manor housing area, across North Las Vegas Boulevard from the main gate at Nellis Air Force Base, where he was an instructor at the Fighter Weapons School. Hogenmiller Circle was up on Officer’s Hill, at the far end of the housing area. All the residents on our street were officer families. Two houses down was one of my best friends, Greg Madonna. His Dad, Don, had been in the first class at the Air Force Academy. His house had lots of paraphernalia from the Academy, including this framed cover of Life Magazine, which had his parents walking out of some chapel after getting married on graduation day. It’s a great picture.
I decided that’s what I wanted to do: go to the United States Air Force Academy. Like West Point or Annapolis - Only for cool people that flew planes. The fast track! (Talk about dreams exceeding your grasp!)
When I was a sophomore, I started doing my research, got a book, sent my application in to the address indicated, and got back a: “Thank you for your interest, but you can’t apply until the spring of your Junior year.”
So, the next year, I did all the things: Wrote to the Academy for the application; wrote letters to my Senators and Representatives, filled out the surveys, took the tests, interviewed with the Liaison Officer….
By my Senior year, I was living in Phoenix, Arizona. Looking at the odds of getting an appointment out of the Phoenix area, I was not that confident. I was a good student, but going from one school to the other, the grading systems changed, and suddenly I was “high ok” vs. the “very high” I had been doing at Rancho High School in North Las Vegas. So I decided to apply via Washington state, where my Mom and Dad were actual residents. Lucky choice! I got picked up by a Congressman Lloyd Meeds, who represented Anacortes and Skagit County. But after all the tests and paperwork, I received a letter that said I was the 6th or 7th alternate. Who could blame him? I didn’t even live in the state. I think I was pretty realistic about it, but very disappointed.
I did have a back up plan: I applied to a couple of other schools: the University of Washington, because I loved the pacific northwest and had a ton of family up there, so I wouldn’t be completely on my own; and Northern Arizona University because they had both a Journalism major and ROTC. I figured if my Dad could get into flying through ROTC, I could too. It also helped that my best friend at Agua Fria High School, Don Snyder, wanted to go there too. It was close to home, and by April, 1978, I had a girlfriend, who was a junior, so I could come home and see her fairly easily. I got into both, but chose the best friend/girlfriend route: NAU.
I was all set for NAU, never visiting a single college to see if I liked it, when my Dad got a phone call one Thursday in mid June. I had been out looking for a summer job at some Phoenix newspaper or another, just to get my feet wet before I went off to college to become the next Woodward or Bernstein. I walked in the door, and my Dad said, “you can quit looking for a summer job. I found one for you.”
A LOT happened in the interim, but two weeks later I was in Colorado with no hair and all the supervision a guy could ask for.
Luckiest guy on earth.
When we moved to Las Vegas, we lived at 6B Hogenmiller Circle. It was in the Manch Manor housing area, across North Las Vegas Boulevard from the main gate at Nellis Air Force Base, where he was an instructor at the Fighter Weapons School. Hogenmiller Circle was up on Officer’s Hill, at the far end of the housing area. All the residents on our street were officer families. Two houses down was one of my best friends, Greg Madonna. His Dad, Don, had been in the first class at the Air Force Academy. His house had lots of paraphernalia from the Academy, including this framed cover of Life Magazine, which had his parents walking out of some chapel after getting married on graduation day. It’s a great picture.
I decided that’s what I wanted to do: go to the United States Air Force Academy. Like West Point or Annapolis - Only for cool people that flew planes. The fast track! (Talk about dreams exceeding your grasp!)
When I was a sophomore, I started doing my research, got a book, sent my application in to the address indicated, and got back a: “Thank you for your interest, but you can’t apply until the spring of your Junior year.”
So, the next year, I did all the things: Wrote to the Academy for the application; wrote letters to my Senators and Representatives, filled out the surveys, took the tests, interviewed with the Liaison Officer….
By my Senior year, I was living in Phoenix, Arizona. Looking at the odds of getting an appointment out of the Phoenix area, I was not that confident. I was a good student, but going from one school to the other, the grading systems changed, and suddenly I was “high ok” vs. the “very high” I had been doing at Rancho High School in North Las Vegas. So I decided to apply via Washington state, where my Mom and Dad were actual residents. Lucky choice! I got picked up by a Congressman Lloyd Meeds, who represented Anacortes and Skagit County. But after all the tests and paperwork, I received a letter that said I was the 6th or 7th alternate. Who could blame him? I didn’t even live in the state. I think I was pretty realistic about it, but very disappointed.
I did have a back up plan: I applied to a couple of other schools: the University of Washington, because I loved the pacific northwest and had a ton of family up there, so I wouldn’t be completely on my own; and Northern Arizona University because they had both a Journalism major and ROTC. I figured if my Dad could get into flying through ROTC, I could too. It also helped that my best friend at Agua Fria High School, Don Snyder, wanted to go there too. It was close to home, and by April, 1978, I had a girlfriend, who was a junior, so I could come home and see her fairly easily. I got into both, but chose the best friend/girlfriend route: NAU.
I was all set for NAU, never visiting a single college to see if I liked it, when my Dad got a phone call one Thursday in mid June. I had been out looking for a summer job at some Phoenix newspaper or another, just to get my feet wet before I went off to college to become the next Woodward or Bernstein. I walked in the door, and my Dad said, “you can quit looking for a summer job. I found one for you.”
A LOT happened in the interim, but two weeks later I was in Colorado with no hair and all the supervision a guy could ask for.
Luckiest guy on earth.
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