World War II was over and Pug was home from the war. We were newly married and living in our new house on Hanover Road just outside of Pulaski. I was not knowledgeable about the benefits returning servicemen were able to receive. Too bad.

Pug had a way of doing something that affected both of us but not telling me until afterwards when I could then do nothing about it. For instance, he bought a new steel cabinet sink with double drainboards on it. The attraction for it was the name "Shirley" on the nameplate. It was bigger than necessary for our new kitchen. Then there was also the time he brought home an expensive garden tiller. It was useless on our rocky garden. It sat out on the edge of the garden until Pug found someone to take it off his hands for a fraction of what he paid for it.

The worst thing he did was squander his G.I. Bill. All servicemen who had been on active duty were to receive four years of college at no cost. Pug didn't tell me that he had plans for that benefit. He came home one day to tell me that he would be taking flying lessons at no cost under the G.I. Bill. He was ecstatic. I was sick about it.

Why, oh, why did he do that? Pug said he had always wanted to learn to fly. That was the first I had heard of any such desire. Without discussing it with me, he had squandered our economic future on flying lessons. That was where he had been the past few Saturdays. He was thrilled and told me so.

I had questions. How could we afford an airplane? We were barely able to buy materials for our hew home at the end of Dad's farm. Airplanes in those days were usually cloth­ covered. That had to be replaced every few years at considerable expense. Then there was the problem of where to house the airplane. We couldn't afford to build a hanger on Dad's property or anywhere else. That would mean renting hanger space at an airfield somewhere. There wasn't one nearby. The problems multiplied in my mind as he related in a gust of enthusiasm his wonderful opportunity.

I told him I wanted to meet his flying instructor and get an idea of how well he was doing. His instructor was vague about Pug's ability to learn to fly. Pug had signed over his entire G.I. Bill to the flying instructor. Even if he failed to complete the course, he had no recourse to recover it. I suspect the instructor milked the situation for his entire G.I. Bill.

The instructor offered to take me for a ride in the airplane Pug was training in. I accepted. Once airborne on my first plane ride, he tried to scare me with sudden banking or diving. My nausea was profound. He kept asking if I was scared? I repeatedly lied, saying "No." He wasn't fooled, and came down for a landing, saying the last time he tried to scare someone, they had gotten sick to their stomach. He didn't want to clean up another mess.

I think the next lesson was Pug's last. After that, he refused to talk about flying lessons, getting very angry if I brought up the subject. That was his way of winning an argument. The situation was impossible to rectify, so I couldn't see the use of another argument about it. His G.I. Bill had been wasted. Pug was not to be an aviator.