Airplanes are an important part of my childhood memories. I lived near a military air base. On an average day, I saw more than a hundred planes. I soon memorized the codes used to identify the various types of planes: C meant a plane for cargo, and F meant a fighter.B was for bombers. If there were birds in the approach zone, a landing aircraft could not dodge them, so sometimes, the plane would bump the bird and the bird would tumble out of the sky. At night, a row of fighter jets would take off and you could see fire spit from the jet engines. They would make a steep climb high into the night sky. If the jet bounced when it landed, it was not a good landing. Membership in that organization was only for the best. It was impossible for me to live a regular life. In university, someone had tacked a notice to a bulletin board. The air force was looking for members. After graduation, you would have had to tie me with a rope to keep me from going. I fastened my suitcase, then turned and peeped once more through my bedroom window at the jets taking off with a roar.