A DOT ON THE HORIZON

A Dot on the Horizon

KENNETH E. HALL     6 November 2017         Houston

It all began in 1959 or 1960. 

I was 8 years old and at recess in Washington, D. C. happily entertaining myself on my favorite swing-set. Deep in thought about whatever, I looked straight ahead at one of the three main buildings that comprised my school.

Then I noticed something visible in the space in between the buildings.

It was a tiny black dot in the sky, close to the horizon. Although nothing to get alarmed about, I took notice of this - whatever-it-was. 

It was just a circus balloon- that's all - I thought. But, hey, you don't see circus balloons every day. Then the shape changed, and the dot was getting progressively bigger.

What the????!!!!

I was now too preoccupied with this Unidentified Flying Object to continue my swinging — or my daytime reverie. I descended from my childhood magic carpet, and beheld the distant odd-shaped ball as it slowly and inexorably approached my school!

I finally identified the approaching object - it was a BLIMP! The instant I figured out what it was, I pointed excitedly to the opening between the two buildings, and repeatedly shouted to all the kids: "The BLIMP!!! THE BLIMP!!!"

The schoolyard eventually quieted down as I shouted out for all to look.

They stopped their playing and looked toward the direction of my attention.

Now that the schoolyard had gotten quiet, only a droning sound was heard, and everyone was transfixed, awaiting whatever was about to appear.

Suddenly, from over the rooftop of the third building loomed a large, silver airship!! 

It was all pandemonium, as the kids of my school shouted and squealed with glee, and we all ran en-masse toward the outdoor basketball court to see this strange and curious craft. It proceeded slowly in the direction of Rock Creek Park, and most of us kids took great delight in running down the open field alongside the blimp that was floating and bobbing along.

We took in every detail, and read the word "Good Year" emblazoned on the silvery side of the envelope.

A girl I knew shouted: "It's the MAYFLOWER!!!" as if the renown sailing ship of old had actually taken flight, and was now plying the blue skies of Washington, D.C. with gossamer sails unfurled!
Many of us ran the length of the school-ground baseball field, following the silver craft  - waving to the crew - or to the ship itself - laughing and enjoying the excitement of seeing something you don't see every day.  

This pleasure, as most tend to be, was ephemeral. The ship slowly floated out of sight in just a few short minutes, and we returned to our playtime activities. Well, most of us did, anyway. I stayed at the field's end - and stood there by myself - my eyes scanned the tree-filled horizon towards Rock Creek Park, in vain hopes this silver-grey airship would return, but it did not.

Then, all to soon, in was time to go back to class. Of course, the subject most spoken about was the interesting type of aircraft we had just seen. We had no internet back then. What we had was encyclopedias and books, and by consulting them, I quickly learned that there once were many airships like the Mayflower - and there were even some very much larger.

Although I recall seeing U.S. Navy blimps while vacationing in Destin, Florida some five years before this day, they had no apparent effect on me then. For most of those kids at my school that day, the passing of the Goodyear blimp Mayflower over our school was but a quickly-fading memory, and for them, life went on as usual. But for me, it was different; something happened that day - something I can't explain.

And that was the very day I began to become interested in Lighter-Than-Air craft.

Funny how a single action, word, or event can have a lifelong effect on you - send you down a path that perhaps you might not have otherwise taken. For me, it has been the "Road Less Traveled," but the journey has not been the least bit less interesting because of it. Sometimes I feel like a Lone Wolf. Then, as I go to greet yet another airship as it arrives at an airport, I see several cars full of people who have to come to stare and to satisfy their curiosity. Like me, they, too, saw a dot on the horizon, and like me, they, too, have taken the "*Road Less Traveled"... and that has made all the difference.

----

[The MAYFLOWER did in fact return a year later, again while at school, and I saw it several more times in New Orleans as well. One day, I even eventually got to ride in a blimp, the AMERICA, but by this time, the MAYFLOWER was no more.]

*
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,                                                                                                                               And having perhaps the better claim,                                                                                                                Because it was grassy and wanted wear;                                                                                                                 Though as for that the passing there                                                                                                                                         Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference." — Robert Frost