Enduring

If she were alive, she'd be turning 128. A birthday no one (at least not yet) seems interested in observing. And yes, once again, I'm thinking of Amelia Earhart, born on this date in 1897. 

Despite so much time passing since her disappearance (back in 1937 when she would have been turning 40), her persona and the mysteries surrounding her life endure. 

Earlier this summer, The New Yorker (June 9, 2025 issue) published an article called "Turbulence". It's full of some fairly damning thoughts about Earhart's husband, George Putnam. It suggests that he pushed to do things she shouldn't have tried, specifically the ill-fated flight around the world. 

Earhart is still enduring in my own thoughts, partly because the mysterious theft of her statue still has no resolution (though it's assumed that it was stolen by metal thieves who found an unscrupulous dealer who melted it down), and partly because I always think of her on this, her birthday. 

The plane above is the 'twin' to the one she flew nearly all the way around the world. Called 'Muriel' (named after Amelia's sister) is now ensconced in the museum at the town's airfield. It's the only original 1935 Lockheed Electra still in existence. A special aircraft, to be sure. 

The Amelia Earhart Festival in Atchison, Kansas, has always been a memorable weekend of celebrations. My favourite part (besides meeting up with friends) has been the amazing fireworks. 

Celebrate! 

Heartbreaking

The photo above is from 2014, the first time I visited Harbour Grace, NL. That's the town that served as the taking-off point for Amelia Earhart's solo flight across the Atlantic Ocean, and today, May 20th, is the anniversary of that flight, now 93 years ago. (If you click on the link for May 20th, you'll see two minutes of silent footage taken that day.)

I'm the one who tucked the tiny bouquet into her hand. It was just my little way of saying hello to her, as she is one of my personal heroines. I can't imagine what courage it took to fly across the Atlantic, and in a plane reliant on a single engine! No fallback there, only fall-into-the sea. 

I named this post "Heartbreaking" because earlier this spring, scoundrels (sounds like it was a pair of men) stole the statue, all seven feet of metal in her likeness. So far, "Amelia" hasn't been found. I, along with many others, continue to hope that the statue hasn't been melted down. 

The real Amelia was lost once, back in 1937. This time, it's truly a crime. 

A very BIG birthday

If Amelia Earhart were still alive (please know that I am not one who holds a belief that she might still be hanging around), today she'd be turning 125. Even the futurists with their predictions of life spans of 150 years aren't there yet -- not much more than 100 is about tops for anyone. 

The house in the photo above is the building where she was born. Once the home of her grandparents, it's now the Amelia Earhart Birthplace Museum. 

The people milling about in front have been partaking in this year's Amelia Earhart Festival, a long-standing annual celebration in the town of Atchison, Kansas -- a celebration that was only resurrected this year, after two years when it was cancelled (on account of that pesky virus whose name I don't even want to use). And yes, I was lucky enough to be there again this year, along with my book based on Amelia, Flightpaths. 

One of the reasons I love Amelia is that she wrote poetry. Sadly, much of it was lost when Amelia and her husband George lost many of their belongings due to a house fire in the home they shared in Rye, New York. 

Her accomplishments went well beyond poetry and even flying. Feminist, promoter of peace, mentor to many, heroine. 

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is International Women's Day, a day when I'll be celebrating with a reading from my book about Amelia Earhart, Flightpaths. 

Her accomplishments as an aviator would be enough to make her a worthy mentor, but I admire her as well for her courage, especially in the many ways she stood up for and spoke out for the rights of women.  

Even though she was speaking about opportunities (or rather, the lack thereof) for women in the field of aviation, this statement of hers from 1934, sadly remains somewhat relevant today: "If and when you knock at the door, it might be well to bring an ax along; you may have to chop your way through." [from Susan Butler's excellent book, East to the Dawn]

The photo above is one of the monuments to her in Atchison, Kansas, the town where she was born. They like to celebrate their most famous citizen by having a festival in her honour every summer (every summer except 2020, of course; fingers crossed for this July). 

This weekend's edition of the Globe and Mail offered an interesting idea for a way to celebrate Women's Day. The article made the suggestion to read a book by a woman author. While that doesn't sound too radical a thought, the article reminded me that men don't always read books by women writers. 

This is something I've wondered about before, as women and girls certainly aren't afraid to read the works of men. Is this just another of those double-standards we continue to live with?

Tomorrow -- and by that, I don't mean only tomorrow, March 8th -- but all the tomorrows on into the years when things can only continue (we hope) to improve for women around the world. Onward!

Quite the pair!

I love these two Buddhas, sharing a laugh. They look to me like the epitome of what friendship means.

Yet today isn't a day when I'm celebrating Buddhism. Rather, I'm thinking about friendship. This is partly because a group of longtime friends celebrated a big birthday last weekend. It's also because today marks the birth date of Eleanor Roosevelt, a best friend to one of my heroes, Amelia Earhart.

The two of them shared many values, especially their vision of full equality for women. They also both hoped for peace, yet another goal I continue to hope for.

Best of all, they shared many good times, and the joy of flying was part of that.

I suppose, in addition to wanting to celebrate Eleanor, I'm getting excited at the thought of the tv show that's coming up just over a week from now. When I was in Kansas this summer, a crew from National Geographic was doing interviews and filming key persons in Atchison during the Amelia Earhart Festival. I suspect that my mentor and friend Louise Foudray should have something to say during that presentation. I sure hope she hasn't wound up on the cutting room floor. To see a preview of the program scheduled to air on October 21st, follow this link -- then scroll down to the words, "Expedition Amelia" for a sneak peek at what's in store.

But now, here's to Eleanor, and to long lasting friendships, wherever and when we may find them. Something to be grateful for always, but maybe especially on this Thanksgiving weekend.

Some big birthday!

For all of the theories that exist about Amelia Earhart, the one thing I am sure of is that she's no longer alive. If she were, she'd be celebrating a very big birthday today -- her 122nd.

As mentioned in my last post, I spent the weekend attending the Amelia Earhart Festival in Atchison, Kansas, the town where she was born in an upstairs bedroom in the home of her grandparents.

The town makes a very big deal about celebrating their most famous citizen. And I suspect Earhart is one of the main drivers of the town's tourism industry.

Several plaques and statues of her are placed around town -- this one is at the International Forest of Friendship, a site that recognizes many of aviation's pioneers and current heroes. Even our own Julie Payette and Marc Garneau have commemorative stones there. I'm hoping that next time I go back, I'll find one for Chris Hadfield too.

But now, I'll just say Cheers! to the woman whose life continues to inspire people everywhere (including me).

What puts the 'festive' in Festival?

For a festival to truly live up to the meaning of the word, it must celebrate a thing or an event. The festival I've just been to takes place every year and the 'thing' it celebrates is a person, Amelia Earhart.

The Amelia Earhart Festival has been a tradition in Atchison, Kansas since 1997, and every summer it seems to only grow bigger and more exciting. This year's festival certainly bore that out, with the town of her birth attracting too many visitors for me to be able to count, though I know that at least one came from as far away as Spain -- and another from Ukraine -- to attend. Truly, a 'round-the-world' celebration!

Although it doesn't officially start until Friday, tradition dictates that the celebrating starts with Thursday evening's fundraiser, an old-fashioned ice cream social. There's an assortment of homemade pies and cakes, plenty of ice cream (at least four flavours to choose from), colourful sprinkles to scatter over top.

Dramatic performances, author readings, a speakers' symposium --  even a carnival of rides in the downtown area -- mean there's something for everyone. Flight aficianados had plenty to be excited about this year, as the airport in Atchison is now home to the last remaining Lockheed Electra 10-E, twin to the plane Earhart flew on her last flight. "Muriel" (named after Amelia's sister) is the gorgeous machine pictured above.

And another of this year's highlights had to be a slide presentation by Ann Pellegreno, who successfully followed Earhart's round-the-world circuit in 1967 -- fifty years ago. History alive!

Plenty of visitors come to the Birthplace Museum, where they took plenty of photos of the many articles there that belonged to Amelia and her family.

Culmination of the weekend is always a spectacular display of fireworks set to music. I got to sit in a rocking chair for this, surrounded by friends old and new. What a time!

Celebrating Amelia in Atchison, Kansas

Well, I don't think she'd be flying, but if she were alive, today's the day Amelia Earhart would be celebrating her birthday, turning 119. If nothing else, she'd probably have a hard time getting her pilot's licence renewed. The gorgeous cake (yes, that's actually a cake!) represents the line of luggage sponsored by Earhart, one of the many products she endorsed to finance her flights.

But even though she isn't around, every year when her birthday approaches, the town where she was born throws quite the celebration in her honour. This year, for the 20th anniversary of the festival, I managed to be there in the midst of it.

The range of events soared from the lofty to the less-than-sublime, and I'm pleased to say that I sampled the full range.

An important part of the festival is its Pioneering Achievement Award, which recognizes outstanding women and their accomplishments. The women recognized at the Earhart Festival are kin of sorts to the famous pilot, as Amelia was all about women's rights and our ability to accomplish whatever we set our minds to. Much to admire, much to live up to.

Past recipients of the award include US Air Force Colonel Eileen Collins, first woman to pilot a space shuttle and athlete Lynette Woodard, the first woman to play for the Harlem Globetrotters. A number of other past recipients attended this year's festival and took part in a thought-provoking panel on Saturday morning. They included Tori Murden McClure (first woman to row solo across the Atlantic), Sophia Danenberg (first black woman to summit Mt Everest), Ngozi Eze (working on behalf of women in Africa, towards ending female circumcision and providing medical aid to victims of war rape) and the very special Ann Pellegreno who in 1967 completed the around-the-world at the Equator flight Amelia Earhart never finished. Yep, heady company, and I haven't named half of them.

But the weekend wasn't only about serious talk and accomplishments. Craziest event of the weekend had to be the demolition derby, just slightly up the road from town at the local dirt track. Among events was a first for me: a smash-up derby, but between school buses! Otto, you would have loved it.

After a lovely (and decidedly civilized, much in contrast to my afternoon at the track) reception at the Amelia Earhart Birthplace Museum, Saturday night gave us perfect weather, with just a breeze coming off the river while crowds gathered along the bank.

First, there was the excitement of the aerobatics show, with lots of people snapping photos. On the right you can just see the Amelia Earhart Bridge over the Missouri River. Later in the evening, its lights flashed like a rainbow.

And really, what July event in the US would be complete without the finale of a magnificent fireworks display. Just one warning with these: unless you turn your volume down, you're bound to hear me laughing.

Happy birthday, Amelia Earhart

When I was in Newfoundland, I took the time to visit Harbour Grace, the place where Amelia Earhart took off on her first solo trans-Atlantic flight on May 20, 1932.

The field there looked too tiny to be an airstrip, more of a place for launching kites than planes.

Her intended goal was Paris, but weather forced her to cut the trip short. Luckily, Ireland intervened. The story goes that she landed in a pasture near a small village in Northern Ireland, and didn't even know that she wasn't someplace in France.

So, why am I thinking about her today? It's her birthday, a day observed by some as 'Amelia Earhart Day'. She liked the colour yellow, so when I visited her statue in Harbour Grace, I stuffed a bouquet of fresh dandelions into her hand, an early birthday present.

Earlier this month, July 3rd, was the anniversary of her disappearance, a mystery that lingers, with occasional reports of evidence (often less-than-reliable) of what her fate might have been.

But I'm not the only one who still thinks about her. A woman named Amelia Rose Earhart recently completed the round-the-world flight path Amelia intended to make. Yet I doubt that even this will be the end of the news about this object-of-my-fascination, Amelia.

And oh yes, those feet of mine are standing on a rock in the field at Harbour Grace. I couldn't help but think that on that May morning in 1932, Amelia may well have thought to 'ground herself' for a moment before climbing into her plane, and that she may have paused for a few seconds, standing on this very same stone.

Where it all began...

One hundred and fifteen years ago, Amelia Earhart was born in this room. No claims are made for this being the birthing bed, as the furniture in the Earhart house has mostly been replaced over the years. Still, standing in this room, with the sun shining in from the East, I suspect it might be quite a lot how it looked the day Amelia was born.

The window looks out over the Missouri River, a view that's mostly sky, a view I like to think might have inspired the young Amelia.

She spent much, though not all, of her growing-up time in this house, a home that's been converted to a museum in her honour. In the back yard, there's a re-creation of a wild-looking 'slide ride' she and her sister Pidge rigged up. So much for proper little turn-of-the-previous-century little ladies.

Today, Amelia is still in the news, as the TIGHAR research team has come to the end of its current search at the tiny island of Nikumaroro.

When my mother was dying, she told me that she was also interested in Amelia Earhart -- that she remembered as a little girl, listening to the radio at suppertime, for news of the famous woman flyer who was missing. So, I guess it's in my blood. Even when Amelia's gone from the radar of others, she'll remain one of my heroines, I am sure.

If you're quick about it, and click on Google today, you'll see that even they are observing Amelia's birthday.

Amelia Earhart, where did you go?

Today marks 75 years since the famous aviatrix disappeared. She and her navigator, Fred Noonan, were nearly at the end of their around-the-world flight. But something went wrong.

Despite a huge search, they were never found.

But now, a team is setting out on an excursion that may support one of the many theories concerning her disappearance.

The group will explore the area surrounding Nikumaroru, a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific. It's a spot where it's believed her plane may have crashed.

Today's photo shows one of my favourite cups, one from Amelia's birthplace museum, which I visited in April of 2011. It also shows my chapbook of poems about her, poems that follow a route first planted in my brain by Arthur Kopit's play, Chamber Music. He places an Amelia Earhart character in an asylum, a plight I found impossible to resist.

I'm looking forward to following this story. With today's sophisticated methods of DNA testing, any remains that might be there could surely be identified.

Oddly, one story I've heard about Amelia is that she wasn't even on the plane for that fateful leg, but that she'd been replaced, as the ditch was planned -- all in an elaborate ruse that would permit the real Amelia to escape to a live of privacy. Far-fetched? Who can say.

Kopit turned 75 this year as well. Maybe it really is time for someone to settle the speculations once and for all. The expedition is scheduled to last for only ten days, so any answers they find will be showing up soon -- maybe even with some resolution in time for Amelia's birthday, July 24th.

Over...

This is the house...

...where Amelia Earhart was born.

I was able to spend several hours there today, looking around in rooms where Amelia once ate and slept and played.

Best of all, I had a wonderful conversation with Louise Foudray, who's not only the official caretaker of the museum, but a fountain of information. I just hope I'll be able to decipher all the notes I scribbled down, and that this day's visit will help inspire more writing about Amelia, as I want to expand the little group of poems that make up my chapbook, A: The Amelia Poems.


The next post is a little bit of a different kind of (even more personal) history.

11-1-11

Eleventh of January. All those ones lined up, waiting to turn to something else...

It's been a day that's felt like a day for ending things (responses to copy-edits for Shrinking Violets went out). And with endings comes the prospect of new beginnings.

A friend reminded me that this is the date (in 1935) Amelia Earhart flew solo from Hawaii to California. Of course, I take this as a sign that it's time to work harder on turning the poems from my chapbook about Amelia into a full-fledged collection.

Tonight's fresh coat of snow, and the way the sky is so bright -- the photo was taken without a flash or tripod (thus the blur) -- all help contribute to the feeling that we are on the brink of change, one that will carry us forward to better things.