In an Aeroplane Over the Sea; In a Volkswagon of Security

UNDER A WING

By Reeve Lindbergh '67

Simon & Schuster

$23, 223 pp.

One would expect Reeve Lindbergh '67 to be fascinated by airplanes. After all, she is the daughter of Charles Lindbergh, who became instantly famous upon his completion of the first transatlantic airplane flight in May 1927, and Anne Morrow Lindbergh, a well-known author and an accomplished aviator herself. But in her new memoir, Under a Wing, Lindbergh quickly demystifies flying with Charles Lindbergh: "I know many people would yearn to have had the same experience, but as far as I was concerned, I was just sitting in the rear cockpit of a very small airplane, feeling a little sick to my stomach."

In this clear, candid voice, Lindbergh tackles the daunting challenge of her family's legacy with a delightful mix of honesty, humor and wisdom. And although airplanes do not play a central role in the story she has to tell, this is a story that revolves around transportation none the less. Lindberg intersperses lively descriptions of her father's 6'2" frame folding itself into a Volkswagon Beetle for a quick road-side nap with tales of sleek Pullman trains and Ford Ranch Wagons. Lindbergh writes that her father "may have chosen it [the Ford] more in an attempt to camouflage and conceal his family from the world, a vehicle that mixed family travel with protection, part covered wagon and part battleship." In many ways Lindbergh's new memoir is an attempt to understand the peculiar relationship between covered wagon and battleship, family unity and "protective privacy," that has characterized so much of her life as a Lindbergh.

Under a Wing is a story structured and directed by transportation, yet, in a distinctly personal sense, it is a book about navigation. The chapters of this book do not flow in any conventional order; they do not happen chronologically, nor do they evolve around a central theme, subsequently germinating into a complex literary metaphor. Instead, the story just happens, which may cause many readers to feel disoriented and lost as the first few chapters progress, fluently transgressing borders of time and place. When Lindbergh is describing a memorable flyinglesson of her youth, she deftly weaves in hermother's experiences as a glider pilot, soaring onthermals some 15 to 20 years earlier.

These same unseen currents keep Lindberg'smemoir aloft, an invisible synthesis of style andease of language. The perceived disorder of thefirst few chapters fades away as the reader iscarried by these currents and Lindbergh'scompelling voice as she navigates her family storywith a quiet, determined tenacity that evokes herfather's meticulousness and her mother'stenderness.

Lindbergh humorously recollects her father'slists--one for each child, with items such as"Freedom and Responsibility," "Instinct andIntellect" and "Downfall of Civilization" neatlylisted in columns--that so closely paralleled herfather's safety checklists for his airplanes. The"Downfall of Civilization" lecture was especiallypopular, and "was prompted by our father'sencounters with air conditioning, television, popart or Mother's Day and Father's Day." Her fatherwas not against all fun--Lindbergh jubilantlytells of her father giving her a piggy-back rideto the rhythm of a nursery rhyme, and of lettingher "on very brief and special occasions" braid "askinny gray pigtail that hung lopsidedly over hisear." Nonetheless it was Anne Morrow Lindbergh whoserved as the emotional mainstay for her children.

Perhaps the most moving section of the book isthe chapter titled "The Lost Baby," in whichLindbergh explores the depths of her own loss, aswell as her mother's. The highly publicizedkidnapping of Charles Lindbergh, Jr. was notspoken about in their household, as she describes:"I think...there was a common understanding amongthe siblings, during my grown-up years, that thisbaby [Charles Lindbergh, Jr.], like the 1927flight to Paris, was part of an era that hadnothing to do with us." Yet when Lindbergh's ownfirst son passed away at the same age that CharlesJr. was abducted, the story of her brother'stragic death became real to her as well. Afterdiscovering her own son had passed away during thenight, Lindbergh and her mother sat with thebaby's body. "`I never saw my child's body, afterhe died,' she [my mother] said to me,`...I neversat with my son this way.'" Lindbergh then writesthat during this moment of agony, "I was proud allthe same, proud that my child and I had given thisquiet time to my mother, who had not been able tohave it when her own son died."

This book is not a tabloid that claims to havelocated the "real" Charles Lindbergh, Jr. out inNew Mexico, or a detailed account of the life ofan American hero. It is a story about one woman'sattempt to come to know her own family more fully,and her desire to share that journey with us.Lindbergh writes that "Although it is now morethan twenty years since he died, we are stilldirected and dominated by our father's strength ofcharacter. And although she is more than ninetyyears old...we are still redeemed, gentled andsustained by our mother." In this moving familyportrait, we as readers are both sustained andredeemed by the strength and honesty ofLindbergh's voice

These same unseen currents keep Lindberg'smemoir aloft, an invisible synthesis of style andease of language. The perceived disorder of thefirst few chapters fades away as the reader iscarried by these currents and Lindbergh'scompelling voice as she navigates her family storywith a quiet, determined tenacity that evokes herfather's meticulousness and her mother'stenderness.

Lindbergh humorously recollects her father'slists--one for each child, with items such as"Freedom and Responsibility," "Instinct andIntellect" and "Downfall of Civilization" neatlylisted in columns--that so closely paralleled herfather's safety checklists for his airplanes. The"Downfall of Civilization" lecture was especiallypopular, and "was prompted by our father'sencounters with air conditioning, television, popart or Mother's Day and Father's Day." Her fatherwas not against all fun--Lindbergh jubilantlytells of her father giving her a piggy-back rideto the rhythm of a nursery rhyme, and of lettingher "on very brief and special occasions" braid "askinny gray pigtail that hung lopsidedly over hisear." Nonetheless it was Anne Morrow Lindbergh whoserved as the emotional mainstay for her children.

Perhaps the most moving section of the book isthe chapter titled "The Lost Baby," in whichLindbergh explores the depths of her own loss, aswell as her mother's. The highly publicizedkidnapping of Charles Lindbergh, Jr. was notspoken about in their household, as she describes:"I think...there was a common understanding amongthe siblings, during my grown-up years, that thisbaby [Charles Lindbergh, Jr.], like the 1927flight to Paris, was part of an era that hadnothing to do with us." Yet when Lindbergh's ownfirst son passed away at the same age that CharlesJr. was abducted, the story of her brother'stragic death became real to her as well. Afterdiscovering her own son had passed away during thenight, Lindbergh and her mother sat with thebaby's body. "`I never saw my child's body, afterhe died,' she [my mother] said to me,`...I neversat with my son this way.'" Lindbergh then writesthat during this moment of agony, "I was proud allthe same, proud that my child and I had given thisquiet time to my mother, who had not been able tohave it when her own son died."

This book is not a tabloid that claims to havelocated the "real" Charles Lindbergh, Jr. out inNew Mexico, or a detailed account of the life ofan American hero. It is a story about one woman'sattempt to come to know her own family more fully,and her desire to share that journey with us.Lindbergh writes that "Although it is now morethan twenty years since he died, we are stilldirected and dominated by our father's strength ofcharacter. And although she is more than ninetyyears old...we are still redeemed, gentled andsustained by our mother." In this moving familyportrait, we as readers are both sustained andredeemed by the strength and honesty ofLindbergh's voice