A tight left hand turn from Menelaus road into a little narrow drive is a very familiar turn for me. A turn that always transforms me from the present back to the Golden days of aviation the days of the Barnstormers. To an era of adventure and a simple carefree life. This field of dreams, means escape from the hum-drum pressures of everyday life.

The big letters painted on the side of the faded white building attracts my attention,

"AIRPLANE RIDES, SIGHTSEEING FLIGHTS, FLIGHT INSTRUCTIONS, COME ONE COME ALL ENJOY THE THRILL OF FLIGHT"!

Those words written in huge six foot block letters are almost faded away on the outside walls of the old Pilot's shack. Just an old weather beaten building sitting idle by the side of the road where people of distinction have passed through the door in past times. This is where my first "solo shirt tail" once hung. I can almost still see the sweat stains from many years ago. The walls of this building have been home to many, sweat stained pieces of fabric. Fabric I cut from a still shaking student, while the garment still adorned their sweat soaked backs. A time honored ritual following all first "solo" flights. Bits of fabric hanging from the rafters in neat rows, waving in the warm afternoon mid summer breeze. Most of the shirts still with a faded name, date and the airplane they soloed. I have been fortunate to teach at this airport for the past three decades. The late Miller Lackey who before his passing, loved to hold the nervous students still while I carefully cut large chunks of material. He would usually sneak a little pinch of skin close to where I was cutting and he would always laugh about the imaginary blood from my old rusty scissors and in some cases make the student actually believe they had been nicked if pinched hard enough. Miller always got a big kick seeing their expressions and some were very much photo opportunities.

As I leave my old pickup, I step back in time once more to my very own first flight at this same airport in 1967, so many years ago. "Come fly with me the sign says"! I did, then I flew some more and 30+ years and 4500 hours flying later I still flew from this special place in time.

The airport is officially named "Berea/Richmond Airport" (Inda-30) but called by some folks, "Lackey's Cow Pasture", Miller Lackey would get upset when I call "downwind Lackey International cow pasture" on 122.9, but we did it anyway, just to get Miller's blood pumping.

I called the place my second home. The airport is just a little 2,400 foot strip of semi level dirt covered with lush grass that always needed mowing and a few old run down and weather beaten hangers. Over to my right still stands the only operational two door country outhouse. In some parts of the US, known as a privie. To my left under the great old Maple is that weather beaten picnic table where cross country plans were made. Map courses were drawn and countless stories of narrow escapes were told and re-told thousands of times. Sometimes they were told the same way and sometimes a little differently but it didn't matter. They were always interesting to hear again and again with some colorful language and a lot of hand gestures. We had a couple of pilots who lied so often they believed their own stories. This is one of the reasons this aviation thing is so interesting, "the people", the atmosphere.

The faint squeaking of the tattered windsock, take my thoughts go back to the 1960s, flying from this airfield on bright weekend mornings. The faint sounds of big ole Franklin's, Continentals and my favorite, the huge round motors slobbering oil, idling like a AA fuel dragster were the norm. This memory is from a time back when blue gas was 45 cents a gallon. Aviation was committed almost every weekend. I have had the fortune to kick up dust a few thousand times on runway 03 and 21. Sometimes just by myself out dancing with the clouds in my old Stinson or Flybaby, sometimes up with wide eyed students in the school's old Cessna 150 trainers. Ah! just to experience a few minutes of total freedom, soar with the eagles, dance with the clouds. The students in the other seat was just hoping to capture some of the mystery and freedom of leaving planet Earth and enjoying the freedom only flying can offer.

A few more steps past a Blackberry thicket and the old barn converted to hangers comes in view. The big bulls eye on the rusty tin roof still shows faintly. I wonder over to my old hanger and see, old crumpled Rudder and Elevators from my Stinson Voyager project, some Flybaby parts replaced many years ago. The next hanger offers relics dating back between the wars. This airfield has been a landmark of Madison County, Kentucky for around 80 years. Sam Lackey opened it in the late 30s. Miller Lackey Sam's nephew has operated it just the way it was, no upgrades or changes. Miller offered cheap hanger and tie-downs fees so we had a very lively crowd on most weekends. Lackey International was just A simple little country airport that time forgot. One of the few that had survived progress and retained the 1930s look, feel, and smell of Aviation as it used to be when motor's were big, round and growled like the king of the jungle should growl. The times were simple, aviators were local hero's, flying was fun, and the pilots were very colorful.

John Miller Lackey, affectionately known as just "Miller" to everyone who met him, was well known by many for his upbeat attitude and always friendly smile. He owned the airport and operated the flight school from the mid 70s to his passing. Miller Lackey's love for the flying machines and people of aviation was the reason for this airport's continuous existence for all these years. The aviation world in this area has come to the end of an era. One of aviation's greatest treasures the rural grass airfields with history are disappearing everyday. This place of dreams, Berea/Richmond Airport like Megg's Field in Chicago will be no more. The deed passed hands from the family to land developers.

I for one bid farewell, but keep my fond memories as my wheels stop rumbling along the runway for the last time. I had the honor of completing the last flight from this field in my old Grumman, July 13, 2003. The eyes can't help misting up a little from memories I have, flying from this runway to freedom and adventure. The passing of Lackey's grass field will bring to a close the unique smell of old airplanes and new cut grass. Lifting off into the heavens on a Bright Sunday morning, A feeling "everything is right with the world". The sounds of laughter as one pilot razzes another over a less than perfect landing. The invite to go "drill a hole in the sky" with someone who just finished filling the gas tanks, looking for an excuse to just go fly. This grass roots flying is a very small and unique world. A world where once the sights, smells and sounds get in your head they are with you for life. I will surely miss Miller Lackey's laugh and this place of history called Lackey's International.

This page is still evolving and being edited as time permits.