Departure

O'Hare International Airport, August 1985. Mom (and Dad) accompany me to the gate as I prepare for another trip overseas.

Economy Class

Over the Atlantic Ocean, July 1971. We've boarded the Pan Am 747 "Jumbo Jet," and we are on our way to Vienna.

Travel the Tri-State

Suburban Chicago, October 1961. Dad may have driven the tollway to reach O'Hare. At the end of the clip, he exits the Eisenhower Expressway in Maywood, at the First Avenue ramp.

A Red Coat

O'Hare International Airport, Chicago, Illinois, March 1963. I had seen the photos Dad took when JFK spoke at the O'Hare dedication, but I only now saw this clip among our home movies. That means Mom likely went to the event because she was the one who usually did the filming.

The Whisperjet and the Mainliner

O'Hare International Airport, June 1967. It's fun to go to the airport to see the planes.

Election Day

Here are a few more photos of JFK's March 1963 visit to Chicago:

O'Hare International Airport, Chicago, Illinois, March 1963. Mayor Daley, sixth from the left and with his hands crossed, appears to have a lot on his mind.

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O'Hare International Airport, Chicago, Illinois, March 1963. We're heading back to the car, and I'm hanging onto that souvenir flag.

Commercial Flights

O'Hare began accepting commercial traffic some time before the airport's official dedication. Occasionally Dad would take us to O'Hare to watch the flights arrive.

O'Hare International Airport, Autumn 1961. We're not waiting for an arrival; we're just here to enjoy the aura of air travel.

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O'Hare International Airport, Autumn 1961. The elegant passengers soon will deplane by climbing down the stairs.

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O'Hare International Airport, Autumn 1961. I'm not too interested in the airplanes. I am hoping that Dad will take us to the Tollway Oasis for a snack on our way home.

O'Hare in the Early Days

My childhood home stood less than a fifteen-minute drive from O'Hare. The home was on a runway path, and I used to sit in the living room bay window and read the airline logos on the plane's tails as they landed.

But O'Hare was a military airport before it became a commercial airport. The early 1960s were a time when everyone was interested in space, airplanes, and the Air Force. As a result, I visited many exhibits dedicated to flight and space travel.

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Suburban Chicago, Summer 1962. O'Hare has opened some of its areas for a civilian viewing.

Another Air Show

O'Hare International Airport, June 1962. We're visiting an air show again, and we tour a plane assigned to the 4133rd Strategic Wing command.

Beloved Friend

My Dad was close friends with the author Romualdas Spalis ("Spalis," the Lithuanian word for "October," was the writer's nom de plume). Mom and I had assumed that Dad and Spalis had become friends in high school, at Aušros Gimnazija. My Dad nurtured a sentimental attachment to that school, and he formed strong friendships there.

But Spalis was quite a bit older than my Dad,* and the two men would not have overlapped at Aušros Gimnazija. Today, I reread the newspaper clipping of Spalis's obituary, and I see that Spalis was active in Lithuanian scouting. That would explain the strong ties between my Dad and Spalis, and one photo of the two men confirmed my hunch.

After Spalis fled Lithuania during the Soviet occupation, he settled in Great Britain. In 1973, he visited Chicago. I don't know the purpose of Spalis's trip, but he stayed with our family, and it was the source of great joy and excitement for my Dad, who had not seen his friend in about thirty years.

*The Lithuanian "Vikipedia" [sic] misstates Spalis's date of birth as 1913. He was born in 1915.

Suburban Chicago, April 1973. My Mom, my paternal Grandmother Tatjana, and Gigi greet the special visitor. Everyone is in the entryway of our split-level home.

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Suburban Chicago, April 1973. This is the photo that provided the scouting clue. My Dad and Spalis have put a scouting sash around themselves. You've seen that sash earlier, here.

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Suburban Chicago, April 1973. My Dad looks happy here.

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Suburban Chicago, April 1973. Spalis takes a walk around our neighborhood street.

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Suburban Chicago, April 1973. Our American house and our American cars.

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Suburban Chicago, April 1973. Dad takes his friend to O'Hare International Airport, back when hosts still could escort their guests to the gate, and the waiting area featured steel-can ashtrays.

But, "For Your Protection ... Carry-On Baggage is Subject to Examination."

Wedding Toast

Toronto, Ontario, Canada, January 1978. My Toronto Cousin and her husband, Toronto Al, toast their wedding party. We were scheduled to attend the festivities, but a Chicago blizzard resulted in the cancellation of flights out of O'Hare International Airport.

Start thinking about spring.

Now that the holiday season is almost behind us, it's time to start planning for warmer weather. During the icy months, you might consider visiting a garden show.

In the 1960s, when my Dad still was well, our family often visited exhibits and museums. It was not uncommon, for example, for us to go to the Chicago Auto Show. When President Kennedy visited Chicago in March 1963, my Dad took us to O'Hare International Airport to see him. When A Hard Day's Night premiered in 1964, Dad drove us downtown to see the movie at its first Chicago showings. He even took us to Soldier Field in 1964 to see a football game: now that was unusual.

So it wasn't surprising to see this photo from the Chicago Flower and Garden Show.

Chicago, Illinois, January 1964. A view of the "Chicago Flower and Garden Show."

Gate 1: No Smoking Beyond This Point

My Dad snapped this photograph of me as I boarded an airplane at O'Hare International Airport. I was on may way to Venice, Italy, where I'd live for the next year. This was back in the day, before 9/11, when family and friends could accompany airline passengers right up to the departure gate.

I flew from Chicago to Kennedy Airport in New York City. Mr. Irene, who then was just a close friend—not yet a romantic interest—took the train from Connecticut and sat with me during the two-hour layover before the overseas flight departed. Mr. Irene packed a charming picnic basket with bread, Lithuanian sausages, cheese, and wine; we nibbled on the goodies in the travelers' lounge. And then I was gone.

My first stop in Italy was Rome. A family friend—a Vatican priest—met me at the airport, and he gave me a remarkable, three-day tour of the city. I visited spots usually not accessible to tourists.

The only downside about my trip to Rome was the lodging the prelate arranged. I stayed in a convent. A nun knocked on my door at 6:30 the first morning I was there, asking whether she could clean the room. My Italian speaking skills still weren't very good then, and I just yelled, "No, no, no!"

I left Rome and took a second-class train to Venice. From there, I really was on my own.

O'Hare International Airport, October 16, 1983. I still knock around in that London Fog raincoat (and its zip-in lining).

Remembering the Date for Another Reason

I made note today of the date because it is the birthday of my Dad and his twin Sister, Jonė.

Today also is the anniversary of the assassination of JFK.

JFK flew to Chicago in March, 1963 to speak at the dedication of O'Hare International Airport. My Dad took us to see JFK speak at that ceremony, and he snapped some photos.

Chicago, O'Hare International Airport, March 1963. JFK addresses the crowd. The other men—including Mayor Daley—have adopted JFK's hatless style. JFK is without an overcoat. The women flash some fur.

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Chicago, O'Hare International Airport, March 1963. I carry my souvenir flag as we walk back to the car in the parking lot.

Why don't you post some photos from the 1970s?

Mr. Irene asked me that question a few days ago.

So here you go, Mr. Irene. But these snapshots may not be what you had in mind.

In 1971, my Parents took me on a European vacation. The original plan was to go to Norway. My Parents had just seen Song of Norway—the movie about the life of Edvard Grieg starring Florence Henderson—and they thought a tour of the fjords might be fun.

Everyone had the same idea that season, so my Parents scratched the Scandinavian itinerary. Instead, they decided to structure a trip around my Parents' fluency in German and my favorite movie, The Sound of Music. We spent the month of July traveling through Austria, Germany, Switzerland. At the end of the vacation, we realized there was no place as beautiful as Glacier National Park, and we returned there for our vacation the following year.

What do I remember most about the European trip? Four things.

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(1) Air travel is glamorous:

Vienna, Austria, July 1971. Mom and I get our "sea legs" upon landing. The trip from O'Hare to Vienna was my first flight. We flew on a 747 "Jumbo Jet."

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(2) I ate my way through Europe. I gained about twenty pounds in four weeks:

Hungarian border, July 1971. I dive into some rye and goulash at a cheesy place that was part of our tour along the border.

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(3) We dressed up whenever we left the hotel. Mom and I sewed a number of polyester dresses that would travel well, free of wrinkles:

Salzburg, Austria, July 1971. I stand with Mom at a spot made famous by Julie Andrews and the "von Trapp children."

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(4) I got altitude sickness—badly—during the two-hour train ride straight up to the Jungfrau. When we reached the summit, I needed oxygen:

Jungfraujoch, July 1971. Mom and I hang out of the train that took me to a bad place.

Layover, or Intermission?

When my Parents moved to Suburban Chicago, O'Hare was a military airport. Soon, it evolved into a hub for commercial traffic. O'Hare Airport was a few miles from our home. Growing up, I would look out of the big, bay window in our living room, and I could read the airline names on the tails of the planes as they descended to land.

A visit to the airport was exciting. My Dad would take us there to watch the planes arrive. On the way home, he sometimes stopped at one of the Howard Johnson's Oases over the Illinois Tollway, and we would have a lunch or a snack.

I think about those planes, coming and going, and the people on them, dressed in their 1960s finery and traveling between amazing places. How did they feel when they were between spots? Were they living in the moment, on a brief layover, or did they feel like they were experiencing an "intermission," between the more important acts of a play?

I am working through another intermission now, wondering how the next leg of a trip will go. Pondering that, I remember that it's best to smile when one briefly lands.

It's a deliberately mixed metaphor.

O'Hare Airport, September 1961. I smile for a landing.

A Memorable Birthday

My Parents organized a celebration when my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, reached her seventy-fifth birthday. It was a big deal. Tatjana's daughter, my paternal aunt Jonė, flew down from Toronto for the weekend:

O'Hare International Airport, November 1972. I greet my Dad's twin sister, Jonė, upon her arrival from Canada, and we head toward our car to make the drive home.

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My Dad restored, rephotographed, and printed many family photos for the occasion. Dad assembled the large images into an album for Tatjana:
 

 
Suburban Chicago, November 1972. My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, appears overwhelmed when she sees the photos my Dad collected for her birthday album. On her left is the photo of her parents, Nina and Pavel, and on her right is the portrait of Tatjana with her five siblings. I, my Mom, and Jonė stand behind Tatjana.  

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This was a touching celebration of Tatjana's life. It grew more meaningful in hindsight because soon after the party, we learned that Tatjana suffered from advanced ovarian cancer.