It was the summer of 1961. I had just finished the 8th grade. My older sister, Bonnie, had graduated from University High School in June, and was entering her freshman year at the University of Colorado at Boulder.
That turned into the excuse for a family excursion. Bonnie, my mother and I flew to California and did some traveling before ending up in Boulder. I recall visiting Yosemite, and we likely stopped to see my grandmother (my dad’s mom) in Long Beach. There was a train ride at some point, but I don’t remember the itinerary.
Anyway, here are two photos from that trip.
Discover more from i L i n d
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
There must be thousands of those airport-departure photos in boxes or albums around the islands from the late 50s / early 60s. The old days at the airport were an unforgettable experience – jam-packed lobbies, the scent of plumeria, families jockeying for position at the chain-link fence for final goodbye waves.
Security was almost an afterthought. At the old HNL terminal along Lagoon Drive there was a built-in wooden ladder up one side of the building that led to the rooftop – presumably for maintenance staff. I remember one year going to the airport to see someone depart, and on the way home hearing my younger brother explain how he had climbed the ladder, obviously unnoticed, all the way to the top. A lighted “Honolulu Airport” sign was up on the roof. My brother proudly announced: “I touched the ‘O’!” Parents were properly horrified.
How uncomfortable we women were traveling in hose and heels and, yes, dresses. No slacks, particularly if you were a military wife.