My father’s love for airplanes started when he was a boy. Unbeknownst to his parents, he rode his bicycle from Mohrmann’s Corners (now called Perkins Road) down to the airfield in Narrowsburg. Yes, there was an airport right along the river in Narrowsburg at one time. 

So Dad made a friend there who taught him to fly a little tailwheel plane in exchange for his movie allowance. His parents never knew that he was flying. What a deal! I think every kid should be able to learn how to fly like that. So Dad had his private pilot’s license at age 16.

One of my fondest memories was flying in the winter with skies on the plane. One day, my Uncle Doug took us kids down to a lake behind Grandpa’s house to go ice fishing. We ice skated while we waited for the fish to bite! Soon Dad showed up and landed on the lake. My uncle picked me up with the ice skates on my feet and I went flying that way!

Many weekend mornings, Dad flew over the Delaware River while the fog was still laying in the valley. I waved at the canoers. My childhood was spent around Narrowsburg and Beach Lake. Dad, Mom and many of the Mohrmann family rest in Glenwood Cemetery.