All Generations Love The Local Airport
by Bill Gouveia for the Sun Chronicle
There’s something about airplanes that fascinates children — even if they are only young at heart. As grandparents, my wife and I are very happy to take advantage of that.
There’s something about airplanes that fascinates children — even if they are only young at heart. As grandparents, my wife and I are very happy to take advantage of that.
When I was a kid (yes, I was young once) airplanes were not as sophisticated as they are today. Most of the people I knew had never been up in one. It was only a decade or two after World War II, and as kids we ran around our yard with our arms spread wide, imitating the fighter planes and pilots we saw on television and in the movies.
The nearest big airport was in Boston, a far-off place if you were living here back then. The big jets were not something we saw regularly. But if we ventured to nearby Mansfield, we could enjoy the magic of smaller airplanes close up. We could hear them, see them, and marvel at the way they soared into the air or returned safely to the ground.
We could go to the Mansfield Airport.
My maternal grandparents lived in Mansfield, and we always took “the back roads” to go visit them. That took us right past the airport every time, and we would always plead with my mom to take us up to the big fence that separated the parking lot from the planes.
She didn’t stop that often, but my grandparents — that was a different story. My grandfather would pull up right to the fence and we would eagerly put our faces right up to that barrier in order to feel closer to those magical machines that both roared and soared.
We would get excited when we saw a pilot walk out toward the plane. And when the engines finally kicked in, and the propellers twirled, we would strain our eyes to watch it go to the end of the runway and then cheer as it sped back and up into the clouds.
Pretty boring stuff now, right? With all the entertainment options available today, you wouldn’t think it would be much of an attraction.
That airport in Mansfield is still there, although it looks a lot different. The big hangers are in different places, the planes are much fancier, and there is even a restaurant now where you can have breakfast or lunch while watching the comings and goings. There is a fenced-in area with tables and a wooden plane just perfect for young kids to climb on and imagine they are owning the skies.
Our grandsons live nearby, and we take them there regularly. Tommy is the youngest, and is wild about the airport. He begs to go all the time. He’d rather do that than watch “Beat Bugs” on cable TV or play a game on our cellphones (well, most of the time anyway).
The look on his face and the excitement he feels reminds me of when I was a kid. The feeling I get while watching him helps me understand why my grandparents brought us there so many times.
Some things are generational, while others manage to cross those boundaries. The airport is one we can still share.
Bill Gouveia is a Sun Chronicle columnist and longtime local official. Reach him at billsinsidelook@gmail.com and follow him on Twitter at @Billinsidelook.
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