By Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO, Calif.—Many of us drop off people at airports, or rush to and from the gates, but how many of us have an opportunity to sightsee at our hometown airport?

I decided to do just that today (Monday, May 8) at San Diego's Lindbergh Field after my daughter, Sandi Masori, and I took her her husband, Shahar, and child, Shor, to Delta Flight 1024 to Atlanta, from which they would catch a connecting flight to Tel Aviv.

I had mixed feelings about artist John J. Whalen's large mural of Charles A. Lindbergh on Harbor Drive as well as the double-figure sculpture by Paul T. Granlund showing Lindbergh as a boy, with arms outstretched, and as the man who flew the first New York-to-Paris flight across the Atlantic Ocean May 20-21, 1927.  The sculpture was dedicated in 1987, sixty years after the famous flight

Given the important role Lindbergh played in aviation, I can understand the pride San Diego takes in him, especially since his plane, the Spirit of St. Louis, was built locally by Ryan Air Lines Inc.  San Diegans like to joke that the famous monoplane would have been called the Spirit of San Diego, except for the fact that benefactors in Missouri paid for it.

The reason I cringe seeing Lindbergh so lionized was because of his role later in life as a sympathizer for the Nazi regime in Germany.  Others may be willing to overlook this unsavory part of Lindbergh's biography, but I cannot bring myself to do so.

I like the sculptures of the boy and the man because it encourages little boys like Shor, 5, to dream big.  I just wish some other aviator had been so honored.

There is a large sculpture in the parking lot of Terminal Two depicting what to me looks like two geese having tumbled together into a heap.  

The legend carved around In Search of Wilderness by Les Perhacs states that "lessons learned through the observation of nature benefit all." With Shor and Shahar flying half-way across the world, the sculpture made me shiver.  I wasn't at all sure man should learn such a fowl lesson.

Inside the entry rotunda of Terminal Two, one becomes immediately cognizant of Sunlight Juxtaposed,  a  large abstracted stained glass mural created by glass designer Joan Irving.  




I had thought that I might have to say farewell to Shahar and Shor at this point as only passengers normally are permitted to go through security screening.  But the kindly ticket agent, noticing that grandpa was entertaining Shor while daddy shlepped the carry-on luggage and handled tickets, asked me if I would like a pass to accompany them to their gate. Indeed I would.  I cheerfully took off my shoes and belt and put them with my camera into the tray for x-raying.  I never complain about airport security.  As far as I'm concerned, the more vigilant it is, the safer we all are.

Beyond the metal detector, there was an installation by Terry Thornsley called Sea Rhythms, into which many passengers who had preceded us had tossed pennies for good luck.  Not finding a penny, I gave Shor a dime, so he could be ten times as lucky as anyone else.  

Their flight had been assigned to Gate 40 at the very end of the long terminal corridor.  Along the way, there were posters from the San Diego Hall of Champions with photographs and brief career descriptions of well-known athletes who had either resided in San Diego or had played for a San Diego team.

These included baseball players Tony Gwynn, Ted Williams, Trevor Hoffman and Dave Winfield; basketball player Bill Walton; boxer Archie Moore;  football players Dan Fouts, Marus Allen Marshall Faulk, Junior Seau, Terrell Davis and Kellen Winslow;  golfers Phil Mickelson, Billy Casper, and Mickey Wright, skateboarder Tony Hawk, swimmer Florence Chadwick, tennis star Maureen Connolly, track star Gail Devers, and tri-athlete Paula Newby-Fraser.  

None of these athletes are Jewish, but the man who started San Diego's Hall of Champions, Robert Breitbard, is a member of an old and distinguished San Diego Jewish family.  Who knows, I thought, perhaps someday the posters of former San Diego Charger coach Sid Gillman and player Ron Mix will be placed in that corridor, or perhaps, if he has a successful career,  Igor Olshanksy, a defensive lineman currently playing for the San Diego Chargers will have compiled such an impressive record that his poster too will be placed with those of the luminaries.

Also on the long corridor wall was an advertisement for UCSD's Rady School of Business, named for Jewish philanthropist Ernest Rady.

I was not surprised  when Delta announced that there would be a half-hour delay in the boarding of Flight  because of weather problems in Atlanta.

There's something about Jews, the number 40, and long trips—as in raining 40 days and 40 nights in the days of Noah and his Ark (grandpa's and Shor's favorite biblical story), and Moses and the Hebrews wandering for 40 years in the desert.

Not to worry! Near the large indoor installation, Water and Sun by Christopher Lee, in which a suspended orb represents the sun and a small bubbling fountain serves as water, we took a seat at Cramer's Bakery & Deli. There, Shor and I shared a combination as perfect for us as water and sun may be for others: a toasted onion bagel with cream cheese!  In my opinion, there could be no more perfect start for his trip to Israel!