Ken had a leather flight jacket.  I had most of his patches (the ones that he cared about) sewed on the sleeves and down the front.  He wore it all the time.   I wish I had paid more attention to the dozens of squadrons that he served with so that I would know which patch is which.  We once counted all the different planes that he flew, and there were over thirty of them.

"How did you do that," I asked him.

"You get the manual, get in the plane and fly it," was his answer

You couldn't do that today.  But since Ken was in the very first class of Naval Jet aviation, he and the others made the rules up as they went along.  It was much simpler in the late forties and early fifties.

Next week is Pat's birthday and she has always said that someday she would like to have his jacket.  So I have it at the tailor getting the rest of the patches sewed on.  She is the only one that could wear it.  Jonathan and Scott are both too big.

I told her I would have it done this weekend, and she is excited.  She started teaching school again (after retiring a few years ago) and wants to wear it to school.  She lives in a little town where none of the children have ever experienced military aviation and thinks they will enjoy seeing and hearing about it.  She is the oldest and probably remembers more about that part of his life than the others.

When I took it to let her choose where the other patches would go, she buried her face in it and said, "It smells like my dad."  And it does.