The summer between my freshman and sophomore year in college, my dad bought a small, used Cessna 172 single engine plane. The intention was that he, my brother and I all take lessons that summer to get pilot’s licenses.

As it worked out, dad was busy with his practice and my brother was not that excited about doing it, so it ended up with me being the only one that got his license. It was not many a teenager that had sole access to a plane.

It was fun flying around Wisconsin and an occasional jaunt over to Minnesota. I even got to show off and take a few friends up.

My sophomore year of college started soon after that. Those days were the Lombardi era of the Green Bay Packers. We had family season tickets since the 1950s, so it was necessary that we attend every game. Since I did not have a car to travel the 130 miles from Green Bay to Madison on weekends, I took the plane back and forth to school the first couple of months until the weather changed.

I am almost ashamed to share this story with friends, realizing what a privileged youth I had, even though it was only for a couple of months,