A FINAL TRIBUTE TO A FLIGHT VETERAN; FAMILY, FRIENDS RECALL PILOT'S FONDNESS FOR AIRCRAFT, FLIGHT

PAINTON -- When Ernie Miner courted his future wife during World War II, he would fly from the airfield in Sikeston where he was stationed and buzz the smokestacks of the old shoe factory on Main Street in Cape Girardeau, then fly over her house in the Red Star District.

Years later, Miner dreamed of owning his own airplane. But he knew the only way he would own one was to build his own. So he would get his six daughters to help him stretch a piece of fabric or hold pieces of frame together as he worked building the glider that he loved to fly.

Flying became more than a hobby for Miner. It became his avocation and his love. It was part of his family.

It was only fitting, then, that when he died Nov. 13 at the age of 81, his wife of 55 years, Frances, would agree to a fitting tribute to the man who loved to fly, a final goodbye suggested by Miner himself.

Sunday, in the presence of 30 family members and fellow pilots, the ashes of Ernie Miner were scattered of the runway of the Painton airfield from a Rands S-7 aircraft.

The plane, piloted by Al Painton, flew first with two other planes as they made an initial pass by the airfield. Then, the S-7 peeled off from the other two in what is known as the missing man formation, a tribute to a pilot who has died.

On its final pass by the airfield, the plane flew only 100 feet off the ground as John Ferguson, district chaplain for American Legion Post 63 and longtime friend of Miner, scattered the ashes from the open cockpit.

"Ernie would've been proud," Frances Miner said. "He would've loved it."

Miner, who grew up in New York state, began flying during World War II. Eventually, he became a B-26 bomber pilot, flying 69 missions during the war. On D-Day alone, he flew four missions between England and France.

After the war, he continued his love of flying, eventually becoming a charter member of the Experimental Aircraft Association's chapter in Painton.

He gave up flying only when his health would no longer allow him to pilot a plane.

Still, even in his final years, he kept mementos of his great passion in life. In his living room hung a picture he had cross-stitched himself. It was a picture of a B-26, like the one he used to fly.