THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, May 21, 1995 TAG: 9505190241
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 38 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Ron Speer
LENGTH: Medium: 71 lines
The towering monument to the Wright brothers stands half-mile from my office, and I rarely even notice it.
The waves that have traveled hundreds of miles across the Atlantic pound against the sand a couple of blocks away, yet rarely do I take time to go down to the beach and recharge my batteries.
The fishing fleets at Manteo and Oregon Inlet and Hatteras and Ocracoke draw men and women by the tens of thousands for some world-class fishing, but not often do I stop to see what they've caught.
I take it all for granted most of the time - until visitors come.
And thank the Lord that they do, because each time a relative or friend drops in I discover the bounties of the Outer Banks all over again.
During a week's vacation my favorite uncle and his wife from California and my favorite nephew and his wife from Colorado came by, and I made sure they got acquainted with all the wonderful things that grace our neighborhood.
And the best part of it all was that in showing then around I took the time to soak up some history and some sun and some excitement.
By the time they all left, I had once again realized that people who get to live here year-round are mighty fortunate folks.
That was hammered home hardest at the Wright Brothers National Memorial.
I'd been to the center years ago as a visitor, but hadn't toured the place since we moved here a year ago.
When I took Russell and Marci McMenamin to the center a week ago I was as awed as they were at the changes wrought almost overnight by Orville and Wilbur Wright.
My uncle was particularly interested in the glider that the brothers used to get ready for the first motor-driven flight on Dec. 17, 1903.
Mac dropped into France on a glider shortly after D-Day in World War II, and his craft was not much different from the one put together by Orville and Wilbur. He spent more than an hour looking at the portraits of the pilots in the hall of fame at the center, reading every word about the reasons they were honored.
Marci marveled over the lecturer's comment that only 66 years after that historic flight, man flew to the moon.
``Just think of how far we come in what is really such a short time after they showed it could be done,'' she said.
Strolling down the lane on the sandy strip where markers show the length of the first four flights, Marci was moved almost to tears.
And I thought of how wonderful it is that the land where flight began has been preserved for all of us and our descendants.
When the mother of all centennial celebrations is held in 2003, the dignitaries and visitors will see just about same scene that Orville and Wilbur saw when they decided the Outer Banks was the place to show that man can fly.
Unfortunately for the brothers, they were like many of us who live here - too busy to enjoy the rest of the barrier islands.
Having visitors forced me to take time to smell the ocean, listen to the waves, watch watermen harvest soft-shell crabs, and sit in cozy cafes admiring the boats sailing past, the sunsets, the baby ducks paddling desperately to keep momma in sight.
We didn't do anything special. We walked through Outer Banks villages, dined on food caught within sight of our table, and gorged ourselves on freshly picked strawberries brought to us by kind neighbors.
My relatives left convinced that this native of Nebraska's Sand Hills has landed in heaven.
I think they are right. It takes an outsider sometimes to point out that a lifestyle we take for granted is the envy of most of the nation. by CNB