April 1, 2005 I retired from the airline industry. February 11, 1970 TWA changed the direction of my life forever - it was my first day of training in Kansas City at the newly finished Breech Training Academy.A native Californian, I grew up in Ventura, a small seaside town, 60 miles north of Los Angeles. Airplanes have always been part of my life. My parents had a small private plane we flew to Knotts Berry Farm and Disneyland. Growing up in Ventura during the 50's and 60's was the all-American dream. Beach Boys, Jan and Dean, surf city it really did happen. In high school our biggest concern was getting a great tan. My high school, Buena, was one of the best. I'm still good friends with many of my high school classmates who themselves are success stories.Graduating high school in 1965, times were changing, fast. College? Sitting on my mothers coffee table was a copy of Readers Digest which had an article about SJSU - #1 party school, coeds all riding on the back of motorcycles. Cool! So with my parents blessings I headed north on highway 101, my worldly possessions packed in my flashy 1965 Chevy Impala (burgandy). I never looked back. And my life was never the same. San Jose State, like all colleges was part of the Viet Nam protest. Riots, national guard, parades, pot, psychadelic music, Beatles, Santana, Jefferson Airplane. I shared a hugh house with 10 lively co-eds. The Doobie Brothers lived next door (ok, noisy hippies not yet discovered). My color coordinated fashions gave way to long hair, wire rim glasses and jeans. I never quite cut the "hippy" scene, as one who insisted on ironing my jeans. 1969, having somehow acquired the number of units to graduate, one of my roommates saw this ad: See the World, be a TWA Flight Attendant. Ok, so I didn't have any great plans for my degree in Anthropology - Jumbo Jets? .....to be continued.......
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Kaye Chandler, webdesigner
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