As I have entered my ninth decade, I have been party to many changes over the years that have clearly redefined life as it was then, and as it is now. Truly, it is almost as if we're living in a different culture, with different values, and even rules that almost seem alien to what we learned, how we were raised, and what the expectations were.

Except for emergencies or catastrophes due to weather, accidents or “acts of God” that in many cases seem to bring out the courage and resolution that has always defined America in difficult times, it seems to me that the younger groups, particularly the Millennials, hold values which are so self-absorbed that basic human contacts are unfortunately diminished (often in favor of the ever- present computer, iPod or smartphone). These days, I see youngsters texting, walking down the street with earbuds firmly planted and listening to the cacophony that they call music, while totally oblivious (or disinterested) in learning from the older generations and, for the most part, not sharing the understandings or values that comprised our learning and experiences throughout life in arriving at our senior status.

As it is in general, so it also has been in the field of aviation as I knew it to be from my experiences as a small child in the late 1930s to the present. This was true in both commercial and private aviation. Airports were exotic places where these marvelous machines, sitting high above the ground in their polished-aluminum splendor, would load passengers who wore their Sunday clothes –  the men in suits, shirts, and ties and the women in dresses with hats, heels, and white gloves.

On entering a "queen of the skies," often a Douglas DC-3 airliner, comfortable mohair seats and a smiling stewardess were waiting to seat us and ensure that our seatbelts were fastened. Soon one engine would start with a roar, the propeller would slowly turn, and blue-white smoke that to me was a marvelous aroma, belched from the exhausts.

After the second engine started we would slowly taxi toward the runway and in a short time, the plane would gather speed as it rushed on the ground – and then, the magical moment when the runway fell away and we were flying! It was wonderful watching the ground slowly recede as we climbed to the marvelous cruising altitude of 8000 feet! At this altitude you could see all manner of events on the ground, cars on the road, buildings, towns and cities. We all felt special and even though it was never spoken, shared the common joy of flight. This persisted as the plane flew toward its destination and we could see fields of wheat and corn, rivers and valleys, forests and green sun-drenched hills contrasting with the bluish haze of distant mountains!

On reaching our destination and departed the aircraft, the feelings the flight produced would stay with me long after the trip had ended. I would often draw pictures of aircraft and dream a child's dream of being a pilot, dressed in a blue uniform, along with that pair of wings and peaked cap common to the era. Flying airliners had that same special quality that we used to feel when we made (or received) a long-distance call, or received a telegram from uniformed boy on a bicycle who delivered a message that we signed for!

These days, commercial flying is, literally an air bus and as we climb to more than 30,000 feet, we can see little or no detail from the ground, some 6 miles below us. As passengers, we are treated like bus riders, even, at times, like children who have to be herded and structured by those adults known as the crew, who allow little or no movement. We must line up to use the bathroom, cannot move about the cabin, and are given plastic glasses of juice, Coca-Cola, coffee or water, and unceremoniously dumped in our destination while the next herd of souls impatiently waits to fill our still-warm seats for the next destination. Nothing special, just routine.

The lyrics to a song I remember state, "something's lost and something's gained in living every day." This is so true and so difficult to communicate our shared memories with today's youngsters.

Yes of course I know there are so many more people flying, and aircraft have changed so much, along with the modern world, that those days of our youth can never be repeated, but so much of the human quality has diminished in favor of the all-knowing computer and its digital family that those of us who can yet remember can easily feel and (as it were) sense the profound differences across the ages. Yes, all of these influences, combined with the ever-present fear of terrorism, have created a profound contrast that resonates through the years.

Those of us who were raised in an earlier era, can compare the differences and know that whatever else may occur, our memories of what was (and will never be again), cannot be taken away as we, both individually and as a group, reflect on those earlier times.

Richard A. Komm is a psychologist licensed in Arizona and California. He holds a commercial pilot certificate for single and multi-engine aircraft, as well as instrument and glider ratings. He began flying at age 15. Now 81, he still flies his aircraft around and beyond Phoenix, Arizona, and  recently published his memoir, "Cubs to Bonanzas: a 65-year Perspective Through a Pilot's Eyes."