Loyal Scaiaholics will recall I spent much of last week in Dayton, Ohio, where television’s Bronson Pinchot starred in my birthday celebration.
Little did I know this trip to my beloved hometown would turn into a learning experience for how most of the major events surrounding the development of the atomic bomb were centered on the street next to my grade school.
The first thing I noticed was the difference between the way DFW Airport and Dayton International Airport warned people about COVID-19. DFW was matter-of-fact and to-the-point:
I nodded thoughtfully as I walked into the terminal.
When we landed in Dayton, though, my Ohio brethren took a much more laid-back approach:
“Always the site of innovation,” I thought to myself. “That’s a light-hearted reminder from the birthplace of aviation. And much catchier than ‘Please protect yourself and others.’ The only way to improve on that would be to change the phrase to ‘Mind yer wingspan.'”
Feel free to use that one, Dayton International Airport.
It was nice to get away from Texas, away from the daily grind of reporting on COVID-19, to a state where I could watch other people report on COVID-19. The flight attendants handed out disinfecting wipes as we all boarded a flight while thinking, “I don’t recall this many people trying to get to Dayton, Ohio even before the pandemic cut demand.”
I had just covered American Airlines’ second quarter earnings call. They said planes are more full now than in April, but they’re still only selling about 64% of their seats. Maybe they’re overlooking the DFW-Dayton market.
But when I got home, I was able to decompress for a few days. The fam and I went to Dayton’s iconic Carillon Park, where I hit a carillon with a tire iron.
A trip home allows you to reminisce and take a look back at your childhood [or yer childhood, if you will]. Mama Scaia keeps pictures of the kids on the mantel to remind us how much hair we each used to have.
While constitutional carry has been considered in Texas, even the United Federation of Planets requires you to carry your phaser permit. Maybe now that I live in Texas, I should consider workshops to increase that permit to either Type I or Type III, whichever is more substantial.
More important than any of that, though, is that you’re never truly done learning. For instance, a Cold War Museum recently opened near Dayton. A Cold War museum.
We all know Dayton is a hub for innovation. What I didn’t know is that a lab a few blocks from where I went to grade school developed the power supply needed to get man to the moon.
The Mound is right, everyone: the Manhattan Project was just a way to divert attention away from the more substantial Dayton Project.
In addition to developing a power supply a few blocks from my grade school, I learned a “rocket propellant laboratory” was set up right next door to the school. A rocket propellant laboratory.
When we got to the gift shop, they had copies of the book, A History of Peace in Dayton, Ohio.
Included were the stories of how Quakers abstained from war and chartered colleges in the area, how the city became a stop on the underground railroad and how Dayton was the spot the war in Bosnia came to an end in the 1990s.
The book jacket indicates it shows how “generations of Daytonians worked passionately to create a nonviolent and welcoming community to inspire others.”
Thanks to Dayton, some day we won’t even need Class II phaser permits. Some day.
Daytonians also don’t care for a bunch of readin’, so I bought a t-shirt. That’ll help me remind people who see me how important Dayton is, whether they want to hear about or not.
