“LOOK WHO TAUGHT HER”

I was trying to teach my wife to fly. I thought every flyer’s wife should know something about flying. It would be so convenient on cross-country trips if Dee could spell me off on the controls. I was having very little success. In the first place, Dee’s eyes weren’t good, which is a decided disadvantage, and in the second place she just couldn’t seem to catch on. She had no coördination. I sweated and struggled and cursed. “Don’t skid on the turns,” I moaned. “The rudder and the stick must be used together. If you put the stick to the right, push the right rudder. If you put the stick to the left, use the left rudder.” And the ship would grind around on another skid.

Dee didn’t take her flying as seriously as I did. She didn’t particularly want to learn to fly except to please me. I thought if I could instill in her a sense of shame at her lack of coördination maybe she would improve. I picked a day when she was more than usually bad. The plane had been in every conceivable position but the right one. She had skidded and slipped and wobbled all over the sky. My temper was getting the best of me.

“Dee,” I said, “haven’t you any pride about learning how to fly? Other women learn how. Look at all the girls who fly, and fly damn well. Look at Anne Lindbergh, for instance. She has been doing a wonderful job on that Bird plane. She solos all over the place, and she only took it up a little while ago.”

Dee looked at me a minute and said, “Well, look who taught her.”

I gave up teaching my wife how to fly.