Save the Museum

You may have heard by now that the Flying Leatherneck Aviation Museum in San Diego, CA. is closing? What can you do to help?

Join the grassroots effort! Sign the Petition.

After more than 20 years of sharing the legacy and history of Marine Corps Aviation with local citizens and countless visitors to San Diego, California, the Flying Leatherneck Aviation Museum is scheduled to be permanently closed on March 31, 2021.

The Flying Leatherneck Aviation Museum shares Marine Corps Aviation history with visitors from around the world.

Visitors come for different reasons. Parents bring their children to see amazing aircraft and to hear stories of the brave men and women who maintained and flew these aircraft. Veterans come to see the aircraft that saved their lives. And still, others come to pay their respects to the aviators who served to protect our great nation.

Nevertheless, the leadership at Headquarters Marine Corps (HQMC) has decided to close the Museum.

This decision is particularly painful to countless veterans and citizens that value our celebrated Marine Corps Aviation history and support this unique, national treasure.

The non-profit organization that helps run the Museum, the Flying Leatherneck Historical Foundation, was told that this decision was based on financial considerations even though the Foundation Board volunteered to assume all operating and maintenance costs.

A great many people, including veterans who serve as volunteers at the museum, were stunned by this decision.

These brave men and women fought for our freedom; they fought alongside others who died for our freedom. And to see them brushed aside with an explanation that doesn’t make sense is heartbreaking.

As news of the museum’s plight has begun to circulate San Diegans and aviation enthusiasts around the globe are expressing their dissatisfaction and sorrow.

Please help us stand up for these honorable veterans and help protect the place where they can still share their stories, their humanity, and their wisdom. They fought for us. Let's fight for them.

You can contact HQMC and the Commandant of the Marine Corps and/or the Secretary of the Navy at the following addresses:

Commandant of the Marine Corps
Headquarters, US Marine Corps 3000 Marine Corps, Pentagon
Washington, DC 20350-3000

MARINE.MAIL.FCT@USMC.MIL

Office of the Secretary of the Navy

1000 Navy Pentagon, Room 4D652

Washington, DC 20350

https://www.navy.mil/Resources/Contact-Us/

Select: Public Inquiries (Navy Programs and Current Navy Issues)

The Flying Leatherneck Aviation Museum needs your voice of support now more than ever! Please take action today!

If you enjoy our weekly visits, please share them with a friend.

This is Patrick Ball, thanks for listening, see you in the next episode.

Comments

Anonymous said…

Miss Murphy

March 4, 2021 at 12:14 PM

The Compass of Cuba: Mom

🎄 Preview of this week's On the Fly blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

Patience: the Only First-Class Ticket

In this episode, Patience: the Only First-Class Ticket They say travel broadens the mind. After eight days sailing the Rhône with 140 fellow luxury vacationers, I can confirm it also tests patience , calf strength, buffet strategy, and one's tolerance for people furious that France insists on being French. Don't get me wrong—I adored this trip. The river shimmered like liquid optimism. The villages looked hand-painted. The pastries could negotiate world peace. But somewhere between Ship Horn Hello and Bon Voyage, we'd inadvertently boarded a floating behavioral research study disguised as a holiday. Our ship was less a cruise and more a ferry for the Sailors of Status. Some passengers approached relaxation like yogis. Others treated leisure like a final exam with extra credit. I came to believe certain luxury watches emit ultrasonic signals that only their owners can detect. A frequency calibrated to trigger rapid movement toward any line forming for any reason. I saw more ...

Up the Rhône

Up the Rhône by Patrick Ball We booked a fine cruise up the Rhône — what a treat! With iPhones, lanyards, and schedules so neat. They promised us peace and a mind that would mend, But each calm beginning had chores at the end! "Now breakfast at seven! At eight, take the view!" At nine, there's a lecture on ' What Tourists Do!' At noon, there's a tasting (you must love the cheese), Then hurry to nap time — as corporate decrees! I followed that plan till my patience ran dry. The Rhône softly chuckled, "Oh my, oh my, my! You've missed half my sparkles, my ripples, my tone— You're busy pretending you've peacefully grown!" So I fired my planner and banished my clock. I tossed my agenda right off the dock! I let the wind tickle my schedule away, and drifted through hours that danced where they may. I chatted with swans, had no notion of when, I'd nibble, or nap, or go roaming again. No Wi-Fi! No meetings! No planning! No fuss! Just me and ...

On The Fly

Search This Blog