My father pulled a duffel bag down from the attic one Saturday morning when I was a kid. Inside was a Navy flight suit, olive green and a little musty. It was the first uniform I ever put on. I wore it for Halloween, and the extra fabric pooled around my ankles. His steel-toed flight boots were too big and too heavy for me to walk in, so I wore hiking boots instead. In one hand, I held my trick-or-treat bag, and in the other I held the flight helmet, the tube from its attached oxygen mask dangling down by my feet.