When I was in junior high and high school I wanted to be a social worker. People who knew me well, quickly pointed out that I was “too tenderhearted” for that particular job. I know they were correct. When I was nearing graduation, my mama suggested I look into being a flight attendant, to which I laughed. At the time I had never flown and had no desire. Dangling in mid-air is scary to me.
Women Airforce Service Pilot
My grandmother, on the other hand, was a WASP, Women Airforce Service Pilot, during WW2. (See former blog, Almost Forgotten). Growing up, I heard about her, and I even have some of her things: her silver wings, flight school yearbook, photo album, WASP diploma and a few other items. However I never knew her because she died in a plane crash in 1945 when Mama was only five. I decided to learn more about her if possible and what she did as a WASP.
So in June, Karla and I flew to Sweetwater, Texas where the WASP Museum is located. When we walked in the hanger/museum, I was brought to tears. I was not expecting that reaction. Those who know me are aware that I am not a very emotional person. But something about standing where she would have stood and looking at the same kind of plane she flew was overwhelming. I looked up to my left and on the wall were plaques from each state with the names of the WASPs who resided there. Above my head was North Carolina, and I quickly spotted Marion G. Mann, my grandmother.
The WASP were brave women. Carol, the museum’s vice president, commented that she often wondered if it was genetic. I laughed and said, “Maybe. My mother was very feisty and come to think of it, so is my daughter. It just skipped me.”
Zoot Suit
Karla and I spent two days at the museum. The staff who worked there were informative and made me feel so special for being the granddaughter of a WASP. The facts I learned were incredible. My favorite picture of my grandmother is one of her on the wing of a plane. I got the courage to ask if I could recreate the picture. To my surprise they said yes. They even went and got a zoot suit for me to wear, complete with head gear and saddle oxfords. (To begin with, the women pilots had no uniforms. So they were given men’s coveralls to wear. They were so big, they had to roll up the sleeves and the arms. They were referred to as zoot suits).
Class 47-W-7
Before Karla and I left, I was looking at a picture of two WASPs in their late 90s, who had been to a recent homecoming. When I saw the class 47-W-7 under one of the names I screeched! “Look! This lady is still living and she was in the same class as Marion!” I went to Carol, and asked if I could possibly get her address. Not only did she give it to me, but a phone number too. It took me a while to get the nerve, but about a week later, I called Nell. I explained that I got her number from the museum and my grandmother was a WASP in her class. When I said “Marion”, she replied, “I knew Marion well.” Tears welled in my eyes. Besides one family member, she was the first person I had ever talked to that told me about my grandmother. We talked for thirty minutes. “Marion was a great gal. And an awesome pilot. I flew with her once.”
Happy Birthday
Before hanging up, I learned that Nell’s birthday was in two days, and she would be turning 98. I wished her a Happy Birthday. It might have been her birthday, but I was the one who received a gift that was priceless.
**If ever in SweetWater, Texas, visit the WASP Museum https://www.waspmuseum.org/
Giggling, my mind drifted to the stickers the girls stuck not only on the two dozen, pre-boiled eggs but on the hotel furniture as well. Then, I laughed out loud at myself for struggling to blow out those egg yolks into the toilet, which left me staggering light-headedly down for hours! I shook my head at the thought of stains left on the carpet from paint. All because I thought egg dye would be too messy!
