SILVER CROSS POP JET. POP JET

Silver Cross Pop Jet. 3025 Silver Mirror.

Silver Cross Pop Jet


silver cross pop jet
    silver cross
  • The Memorial Cross (Croix du Souvenir), often known as the Silver Cross, is a Canadian medal awarded to the mother, widow, widower, or next of kin of any member of the Canadian Forces who loses his or her life in active service, including peacekeeping, and other such international operations.
  • ('???????? ???????') - wears the badge on a ribbon on the left chest.
  • Silver Cross is a British manufacturer of wheeled baby transport, and is traditionally associated with large, four-wheel baby carriages that featured wooden bodies and leaf spring suspension.
    pop
  • Commercial popular music, in particular accessible, tuneful music of a kind popular since the 1950s and sometimes contrasted with rock, soul, or other forms of popular music
  • A pop record or song
  • like a pop or with a pop; "everything went pop"
  • dad: an informal term for a father; probably derived from baby talk
  • popular: (of music or art) new and of general appeal (especially among young people)
    jet
  • A nozzle or narrow opening for sending out such a stream
  • issue in a jet; come out in a jet; stream or spring forth; "Water jetted forth"; "flames were jetting out of the building"
  • coal-black: of the blackest black; similar to the color of jet or coal
  • an airplane powered by one or more jet engines
  • A rapid stream of liquid or gas forced out of a small opening
  • An aircraft powered by one or more jet engines

Day 356/365 - Air Force Memorial
Day 356/365 - Air Force Memorial
This shot is for my father and his father before him. This is the U.S. Air Force Memorial. It is across from the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia. The three metal spires are meant to represent the contrails of three jet aircraft performing the aerobatic "bomb burst" maneuver. The statues are an honor guard of airmen standing watch over the memorial. My grandfather served with the Eighth Air Force in England during World War II. He was part of the crew onboard a B-17G bomber that flew missions over Nazi-occupied territory. Although he was responsible for dropping the plane's payload of bombs, he was not technically a bombardier. He told me that each flight of B-17s only had one actual bombardier, who was an officer. This was because only one plane in each flight had the top secret Norden bombsight installed. This approach reduced the risk that enemies would be able to recover one of the Norden bombsights from a wrecked B-17. The bombardier for each flight would use the bombsight to determine when to drop his payload of bombs. Technical sergeants like my grandpa who were on the other planes in the flight would then follow the bombardier's cue and drop their bombs when he did. My grandpa told me that he and his fellow crewmembers flew 12 bombing missions over Germany. He said they got shot up pretty good on their very first mission, but after that they didn't take much damage. He couldn't remember which squadron he was in, but he remembered his B-17 was silver with a yellow tail and wingtips and it didn't have a name. My Pops also served in the Air Force. He was a darkroom technician at the Strategic Air Command in Nebraska in the mid-1960s. It was his job to develop spy plane photos. The darkroom in which he worked was inside a big vault with a heavy steel door. There were guards constantly on duty outside and a loaded handgun was kept inside the darkroom and the technicians had orders to shoot any unauthorized personnel who entered. My Pops had one of the highest security clearances a person can have and he still won't really talk about what the photos he developed were. I do know that he was called into duty in the middle of the night during the Cuban Missile Crisis and spent three straight days in the darkroom developing U-2 reconnaissance photos. He has grumbled about the fact that he and his fellow technicians were sworn to absolute secrecy and then a few days later there was the President on tv with a blow-up of one of the photos they'd developed showing it to the whole world. I remember seeing one of the spyplane photos of the Cuban missile sites in my junior high school history class textbook and feeling proud and curious if that was one the shots my Pops had developed. Although my father and grandfather served in the Air Force, I had to be different and go my own way so I went into the Navy instead. It always gives me an added thrill when Navy beats Air Force in football, as I'm hoping they will do for the seventh consecutive time this Saturday. Some friends and I are trekking over to Annapolis to see the game in person and I've got my fingers crossed hoping the Midshipmen can pull out another win. (September 29, 2009)
The Christmas Trip - Prelude
The Christmas Trip - Prelude
I used to take bus trips across America and write about them for a magazine in Los Angeles. This was my last bus trip. December 13 I am in the San Francisco Bus Terminal for waiting for a bus to Santa Monica. The ride will take twelve hours along the Pacific Coast Highway. This Terminal, unlike many I've seen, is kept in clean condition. The majority of the other people here are black people of color. But some are white people of color and some are students who are of no discernible economic color at all. (Though being a student often turns one white.) I should mention the over-dressed queen in the crowd who wears a knee Length overcoat, silk blue shirt buttoned all the way up, black cowboy boots, and jet-black hair all slicked into a tidy little mess. A tiny silver crucifix dangles from his right ear lobe. I wear a black leather jacket with little silver crosses pinned to the lapel, a grey turtleneck sweater, faded black jeans, black socks, and a well-polished pair of black Rockports. The queen examines me for flaws and winks. *** I arrived in Santa Monica 4:30 AM. To my dismay my favorite cheap motel, The Motel Xanadu, had burned down. I checked out prices at the Travelodge and decided to wait until 7AM when the hostel opens. Ya can't beat 20 bucks a night. In the meantime I was cruised by a chunky guy on a bicycle who turned out to be a "clinical Psychologist" "Whattaya doing?" he asked a lone man stumbling around in the dark half asleep with a forty pound pack strapped to his back. "Nothing." I replied. "Whattaya doing in Santa Monica?" he continued. "I'm here on business." -- I felt odd saying it and added; "though it doesn't look like I am." We crossed to the park and sat down together on a well-lit bench. I looked at him with exhaustion. "What kind of business?" he asked. "No kind." I answered. Dawn spread; Green and blue. He announced his profession, which was followed by even gloomier silence from me until he rode away. Location: The Photographer's Workshop slurl.com/secondlife/Trapper/97/78/35

silver cross pop jet
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