We Three

Charles and his P-51 Mustang,
"We Three" in England, 1944

I don't know whether I should credit Charles or Paul McCartney for this discovery.  As all things Charles go, he shows me to the most interesting, sometimes useless but always absolutely priceless gifts.  A few weeks ago I was trolling though iTunes looking for something new and I stumbled on the new Paul McCartney album.  He was so cool on the Grammy's I thought I'd give it a listen.  It was all okay, a bunch of cool reboots of old songs and then track number six made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.  I'd never heard it before and when I looked at the title, I teared up - We Three (My Echo, My Shadow, and Me).  I'm going with Charles showed me this by way of Paul McCartney.  How could I not?

I looked it up and it turns out that this song was originally recorded and made popular by Tommy Dorsey and his orchestra with Frank Sinatra on vocals in 1940.  Now, I know that Charles named his plane, We Three, for his little family, but it made me wonder...  Everything I've learned about him and his character leads me to believe that he knew this song and that it might have played some small part.  If you click on the link and take a listen, it's a little sad and eerie -  We Three, we'll wait for you, even til eternity, my echo, my shadow and me, we'll be there waiting.  Spooky.

Charles and I at the Rocky Mountain Air Show

Charles in flight -
Brooks AFB sometime in 1943

I was invited to attend and host a table for Charles at the Rocky Mountain Air Show in the WWII Museum exhibit area.  The show is this weekend, and I've been busy all week enlarging and framing photos and trying to figure out how to share the precious peices of the plane recovered from the crash site in France so that people can see it all, but not touch it.  I'm staying the course regarding the challenge that Jean-Marc laid at my feet and I'm taking advantage of every possible opportunity to tell mine and Charles' story.  There are going to be a lot of WWII veterans who will be in attendance and I realized yesterday that I should probably be prepared for a emotionally charged weekend.  When I'm in the WWII/Charles zone, I have trouble keeping it together.  It seems I can barely hug anyone or shake a hand without tearing up.  I can't imagine stifling the waterworks when I'm talking to or listening to these sweet old men tell THEIR stories.  I'm thinking a hankie might serve me better than a whole box of tissue.