Hall of Fame

Last Thursday Ryan and I drove down to Myrtle Beach to join my dad, mom, and grandmother (my mom's mom, Monie) for a ceremony for the South Carolina Aviation Association. My grandfather, Maj. Gen. Jones E. Bolt (who I called Papa) was inducted into the South Carolina Aviation Hall of Fame. It is hard to do his accomplishments justice with the limited amount of time I have to blog with the kids running around my feet, but I had to get the experience recorded and let those of you who don't already know what an amazing career he had. 

Papa went to Clemson and graduated in 1942. He married my grandmother Polly in 1943, and went to England as a pilot. He flew 15 missions and on his 15th in April of 1944, he was forced to evacuate his plane near Paris and he was taken captive by the Germans. He was sent to a POW camp near Sagan, Germany and he wasn't released until April of 1945.

After the war he went to Aircraft Engineering School, and in 1948 he and some friends formed  the Acrojets, the first aviation acrobatic team, but due to the Korean War had to take hiatus. It was picked back up as what most people are familiar with today, the Thunderbirds.   From here my memory fails me, because he spent the better part of 20 years going all over the place, training other pilots, and eventually earned the rank of a Major General, by 1965.  Click on the link and it should tell you more if you wish to know. Instead, I'll tell you his story is fascinating, and my dad has enough stories of growing up an Air Force kid to fill a book. I never thought it was strange that my dad taught me to count from 1 to 10 in Japanese when I was younger until I realized that not all parents have the same story that he does. Not all parents spent a few grade school years in Okinawa. Not all kids meet their grandparents arriving in their own plane at the airport. I think I kinda knew that was cool, but didn't get how really, really cool that was.

Last May, Dad decided to send in an application on Papa's behalf to the SC Aviation Association, because he, as do all of us, felt like Papa and his career is worth recognizing and honoring. It was such a great memory to make with my family, and am so thankful we got the chance to go. Thanks to Kelly Keever and the McGowans for keeping the kids for us so we could have a bit of peace and quiet, too! 

Dad and his older brother, Bob, with Papa's plaque. It's a very cool holographic photograph that changes from the picture you see to one of Papa when he was much younger dressed in his pilot's gear beside his plane. My dad's oldest brother, Manning, was not able to make it to the ceremony, and my grandmother Polly is in a nursing home.

Ryan, Monie, Me, Mom, Sara (my cousin), Kathy, and in the back, Dad and Uncle Bob.

Most of Papa's story I heard in bits and pieces over my life, mostly at tailgates and a few holidays while he was talking to someone else. I never really thought much about it, just that he kept telling the same stories over and over. It wasn't until after he died that all the pieces were put together for me, and I understood the magnitude of what he did and who he was. To me, he was just Papa, who never missed a Clemson home game, talked a lot about airplanes and people he knew, gave great hugs, and ate more ice cream that I thought was humanly possible. And I guess he always will be Papa to me.  But now he's way more than "just Papa".