Skip to main content

Save the Museum

Podcast - 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

Most Popular of All Time

Sunflowers, French Steel, and the Yellow Jersey

Watching Le Tour de France this year, I found myself transported back to August 1983 as the Peloton in Stage 10, Bastille Day, flowed through the French countryside like a brightly colored ribbon. I was in my twenties, visiting family in the Charente-Maritime region of France, completely obsessed with bicycle racing—and convinced I was much stronger than I was. My connection to cycling—and to France—runs deep. I was born in France, and my very first real road bike, at age fifteen, was a Mercier . To me, it wasn’t just a bicycle; it was a work of art made from beautiful French steel. I rode that bike for miles, through high school, into college, and until the day someone decided they needed it more than I did. I hope they at least appreciated the craftsmanship. Its untimely disappearance led me to a Schwinn Voyageur, and later, when I started racing around Illinois, to a Raleigh Competition . But during that summer of ’83, while staying with my Uncle Jean Paul in Lagord, just north of L...

Rediscovering the Magic of Summer . . .

Summer mornings, especially on a holiday weekend, have a special magic. The air is cool, the world quiet, and the day full of possibilities. This July 4th weekend, Lori and I decided to capture a bit of that magic by beating the holiday traffic with an early morning bicycle ride. We went through our usual pre-flight checklist: Stretched out the morning stiffness. Filled the water bottles. Strapped on the helmets. Checked the tires. Three tires passed inspection. The fourth had apparently declared independence. The rear tire on my e-bike was flatter than a Kansas highway. “Well, it looks like we’re not riding today,” Lori said, with the calm acceptance of someone who had already mentally promoted coffee to the day’s main event. “Why not?” I replied. “I’ll ride my old bike.” She gave me that look —the one that safely translates as, "Are you sure about this? " “Absolutely,” I said. “Why not?” I dragged the bike stand out and surveyed my options. One glance at the aggressive gear...

What an E-Bike Can't Do

In this episode, a return to the struggle. There comes a point in life when many people decide they've earned a machine to do the hard work for them. Some celebrate retirement with a bright red Corvette—the old ads called it "The American Dream Machine." Others opt for a Harley-Davidson, because apparently retirement isn't official until you've purchased enough chrome to be visible from space. Me? I bought a bicycle. Not an e-bike. Not one with enough battery power to serve as its own charging station. Just a bicycle. People have asked me why. Bicycles have always kept me young. The exercise is good for the body, and the quiet is good for the mind. Unlike a sports car, nobody expects you to explain why a retired guy suddenly needs to go from zero to sixty in four seconds. Before the e-bike crowd starts sharpening their keyboards, let me confess something: there were several moments on today's ride when I would've gladly accepted a small electric motor—mayb...

Parabolic Arcs, and Pulled Putts

In this episode, the Retirement Mulligan Welcome to the first official morning of the rest of my life. With no alarms and no meetings, chasing a little white ball around The Lakehouse—a par-58 canvas—felt like the perfect way to christen retirement. Golf is a game of profound integrity, so I must disclose that my playing partner, Steve, and I took a couple of mulligans off the tee today. When you overswing like you're launching into low-Earth orbit, the most mature choice is sometimes a do-over. In retirement, these aren't mulligans. They are Executive Retirement Relief Strokes —a benefit package we’ve earned. When the swing connected exactly as intended, it was pure geometry in motion. Watching a crisply struck iron trace a towering parabolic arc against the San Marcos sky is the everyday magic we try to capture here at On the Fly . We witnessed it eleven times today, to be exact. Hitting eleven greens in regulation meant I repaired so many of my own pitch marks that I wonder...