It’s hard for me to imagine what Oshkosh might be like for someone laying eyes on these hallowed grounds for the first time. Like a baseball fan passing through the turnstiles at Wrigley Field without knowing who Ernie Banks or what, “Let’s play two,” is all about. Or a visitor to Gettysburg who has no idea about the nature of the sacrifices made during the War Between the States. The stories that inform my sense of this place, Wittman Field, are many. Hell, I knew the brilliant Steve Wittman, inventor of landing gear and futuristic aircraft designs, and after whom the field is named. The actors, from Paul to Bob; the airplanes, Concorde the first Vari-Eze and the remarkable Eclipse jet. The lay of the land, the old tower, still there in my mind, the North 40, spread out at night, the voices of celebration and friendship wafting through the struts and tails of Stinsons and Cherokees. It’s all deeply evocative of everything we all love about flying, chiefly, sharing our love of it with others.
