Dawn Phelps
Columnist
Five small airplanes were parked on the grass at the home of “the birthday boy,” Ray Palmer, when my husband Tom and I arrived for his 95th birthday party on May 31st. We, along with many others, were invited, and about 100 people attended!
Picnic tables were set up around the yard, and people were already seated and eating. It was a beautiful, clear day, and a pleasant breeze was blowing. We were soon directed toward a mobile cook trailer where employees were busy taking orders and preparing burgers and fries and such for those waiting in line.
We had been told there would be airplanes “flyovers” during the party, and the airplanes did not disappoint, and some flew right over our heads! Prior to the party, I had been told that there were prior seventy-fifth and eighty-fifth birthday parties complete with airplanes showing off their “stuff.”
But my first connection with Ray was back in the 1980s, and it dealt with an old army-green Volvo car that was not nearly as flashy as the five shiny airplanes parked not far from Ray’s house. Here’s the story. Somehow, my first husband Ralph Thorn had become acquainted with Ray—probably through some of his relatives. Anyway, Ray had told my husband that he would sell it to him for “five.”
Now, my husband was not sure if Ray meant five thousand or what, but he knew five thousand was too much. But maybe “five hundred?”
But it turned out that Ray meant only “five dollars!” Now that was a deal, and Ralph paid him the “five.” And we were in for a treat! During the first winter, my husband called it his “Sherman tank.” That car was heavy and well built! It would go through deep snow when nothing else would.
We drove it as our second car for many miles, then my daughter and her husband who were in college drove it for many more before the Volvo died a proud “death!” So, that was our first connection with Ray—many miles and many years ago.
Now Ray is 95. Sometimes Tom and I eat with Bobbie and Ray and other friends at the Kountry Kafe on Hamburger Night. When we met them there this week, it was Ray’s actual birthday—June 3.
We talked again about the old Volvo, about Ralph paying him “five” for the car, and laughed. When I asked Ray about his life, here are a few things I found out.
He was born in Kansas on June 3, 1930. He presently lives near Glasco, Kansas, with Bobbie—they’ve been together for about twenty-five years now. He worked for Northern Gas Pipeline in Glasco about five years, and he has also worked in the Oklahoma Pan Handle, Mexico, and in Chicago for several years.
He took an early retirement in 1957 but was again hired by Northern Gas in Glasco and worked for Koch Industries. He retired a second time at the age of 80!
I asked him when he began flying. He said he said in 1972 at the age of 42. He flew until he was 90 and one-half years old. He seems to be in amazing physical shape—he does not take any medications!
He quit flying when his insurance carrier raised his rates $4,000 per year. He has since given up flying and has sold his plane, but he still has a pilot’s license at 95!
Ray named a few places he has flown in his plane—Santa Fe, New Mexico; Salt Lake City, Utah; Key West, Florida; Albuquerque, New Mexico, and an island in the ocean, to name a few. He described his life as being “fun.” I asked him if he had any regrets, and he replied, “Not really.” How many of us can say we have no regrets?
He spoke about one scary experience that caught him off guard when he was flying near Moline, Illinois, when he was not warned that skydivers were jumping out of planes near where he was flying.
He said that he just saw these “dark things” dropping downward from the sky where he was flying, and the tower had failed to inform him. It must have been scary to think he could have hit people in their free-fall stage before their parachutes were opened!
Another of Ray’s startling memories was from 9-11-2001. On that day, Ray was flying his plane when the Twin Towers were struck in New York City. He said all pilots were commanded to get their planes out of the air “immediately!” He said he was near Concordia, Kansas, when he was told to land, so he was able to land at home.
So, there’s your story of a birthday party for a lively, ninety-five-year-old. And I believe he will probably be around five years from now for his big 100 years in 2030.
If so, I imagine, some of those same pilots will again arrive in their planes on Ray’s runway near his house for another celebration! They will again be “flying high” to celebrate Ray’s one-hundred-year life! Until then, happy birthday, Ray Palmer!
Ray Palmer, age 95 years
