From B-17s to School Buses: What a Family Trip to Fort Walton Taught Me About Generations

When four generations of family gather under one roof, a trip to the coast becomes far more than a getaway.

My wife, Felicia, wanted to bring our sons, grandbabies and her aging parents together in one place—and if there is anywhere Felicia loves to be, it’s the beach.

Stepping onto Fort Walton Beach, Florida, it is easy to understand why this stretch of shoreline is called the Emerald Coast. Powder-soft white quartz sand and turquoise waters create an unforgettable backdrop for making memories across generations.

Although we chose to drive, the Emerald Coast is convenient by road or air. The drive gave us time together and a chance to see more of the region. For those who prefer to fly, Destin-Fort Walton Beach Airport (VPS) is only a short drive from the beaches, with flights available from Nashville.

A B-17 Flying Fortress Got My Attention

As we drove into town, something along the roadside immediately caught my attention: a historic B-17 Flying Fortress proudly displayed among an impressive collection of military aircraft.

Seeing that bomber hit close to home.

My late father, Sam Sparks, served in the U.S. Army Air Corps, later renamed U.S. Air Force, during World War II, flying 24 bombing missions over Germany in a B-17. He survived being shot down and crash-landing twice—once off the frozen coast of Greenland and another time in a farmer’s field.

Seeing that Flying Fortress immediately connected our family trip to my father’s legacy.

Years ago, my youngest son Payton and I had the unforgettable opportunity to fly aboard a B-17 ourselves. Payton was about 17 and I asked Payton to capture our flight on video.

Flying in the same type of aircraft my father’s generation took into combat was something I’ll never forget. Having my son beside me made it even more meaningful—a connection spanning three generations.

 

Sadly, the aircraft we flew aboard, the Liberty Belle, was later destroyed. In 2011, an engine fire forced the B-17 to make an emergency landing in an Illinois cornfield. Everyone escaped safely, but the fire engulfed the historic bomber.

Seeing another B-17 all these years later brought those memories rushing back.

Young Men Entrusted With Extraordinary Responsibility

There is another part of the B-17 story worth remembering.

The men who climbed aboard America’s bombers were remarkably young. Many were barely out of high school or college, yet they were entrusted with extraordinary responsibilities and sent into some of the most dangerous skies imaginable.

That contrast struck me for another reason.

Young Americans in their early 20s were trusted to pilot B-17s and B-24s on strategic combat missions during World War II. Yet today, Tennessee requires someone to be 25 years old to drive a school bus.

Whatever one’s view of the appropriate age, the contrast raises an important question: Are we unnecessarily closing the door on responsible young adults who could safely serve their communities?

The Human Cost Behind the Flying Fortress

The price paid by my father’s generation was staggering.

Tens of thousands of U.S. Army Air Forces personnel died during World War II, while thousands of B-17s and B-24s were lost. Many more airmen were wounded, shot down, captured or held as prisoners of war.

Behind every statistic was someone’s son, husband, brother, father or friend.

Aircraft like the B-17 and B-24, the bases that trained their crews, and—most importantly—the courageous young Americans who flew, maintained and supported them became part of the massive Allied effort that helped defeat Nazi Germany and liberate Europe.

My father was fortunate.

He came home.

Many of his fellow airmen did not.

That’s why I don’t see a B-17 simply as an impressive piece of engineering. I see the young men who climbed aboard those aircraft without knowing whether they would return.

From Sewart to Eglin

The connection also brought my thoughts home to Smyrna.

Many people may not realize the role Sewart Air Force Base, originally Smyrna Army Airfield, played in our community’s history. The military installation helped put Smyrna on the national map and became part of America’s enormous military mobilization during and after World War II.

Fort Walton Beach has its own deep military connection.

The U.S. military began developing the area in the 1930s, drawn by vast stretches of land, access to the Gulf of Mexico for testing and favorable flying weather. That presence grew into today’s Eglin Air Force Base, a massive military installation and testing complex.

Military aviation isn’t simply something displayed in a museum here. It remains part of the identity of Florida’s Emerald Coast.

Four Generations—and a Changing America

As I watched my grandkids play on the beach, surrounded by four generations of family, I found myself thinking about how much America has changed.

Felicia and I bought our first home when I was 22 and she was 19.

For many young adults today, that milestone seems increasingly difficult. Housing costs have risen, while families are also confronting concerns involving mental health, substance abuse, suicide and economic uncertainty.
Two years ago I introduced legislation requesting a TACIR study, Tennessee Advisory Commission on Intergovernmental Relations on home affordability. To my surprise ‘taxpayer-funded lobbyist,’ yes, your tax dollars pay their salaries and they were trying to thwart my bill. I can’t make this stuff up.

Rep. Mike Sparks TACIR Home Affordability Study

During our trip, another issue followed me all the way from Tennessee: the shortage of school bus drivers.

Local television reports discussed Florida school systems struggling to find enough drivers as students returned to class. Similar shortages are affecting communities across the country.

Only a couple of weeks before our trip, a local civic leader had called me about concerns he was hearing from school bus drivers—including shortages and increasingly difficult student behavior.

The Florida news report reminded me that this isn’t simply a Tennessee problem.

Sam Sparks, retired WW11 turns School Bus Driver

Then my thoughts returned to Dad.

After retiring from Sewart Air Force Base, he decided to drive a school bus.

He didn’t last but a few years.

One longtime Smyrna leader later joked to me:

“I knew Sam Sparks. He was the meanest man in Smyrna!”

Dad was a strict disciplinarian. After serving in World War II and spending his career around the military, he carried that mindset everywhere—including onto a school bus.

Times have certainly changed.

But perhaps there is something we can learn from his generation about responsibility, discipline and giving young people meaningful opportunities.

Creating Opportunity for the Next Generation

Today’s workforce challenges require practical solutions.

Reexamining Tennessee’s school-bus-driver age requirement could open structured, good-paying opportunities to responsible young adults while helping school districts address driver shortages.

Obviously, age alone should never determine whether someone is qualified to transport children. Safety, training, background checks, driving records and maturity matter enormously.

But we should also ask whether a responsible 23- or 24-year-old who meets rigorous safety and training requirements should automatically be prohibited from even having that opportunity.

My father’s generation was entrusted with enormous responsibility at remarkably young ages.

Perhaps one way to honor that generation is to expect responsibility from the next one—and give young adults opportunities to prove themselves.

Following the Footsteps

Long before fighter jets roared over Okaloosa County, Native American cultures lived along these shores. Later came fishing communities, military installations and the tourism that transformed the Emerald Coast into the destination we know today.

But standing on those white sands with my children and grandchildren, history suddenly felt less like something found in a textbook.

It felt personal.

Four generations of our family were together while I found myself thinking about another generation—my father’s.

The B-17 reminded me of where we came from. My grandchildren reminded me of where we’re going.

Honoring veterans like my father isn’t only about looking back at Flying Fortresses and telling stories about the Greatest Generation. It is also about carrying forward some of what they taught us—service, sacrifice, discipline, responsibility and opportunity.

Someday our grandchildren will tell stories about our generation.

I often wonder what my late father would think about where our country is today. Have we lost our way? …I think we have.

When it comes to the minimum-age requirement for school bus drivers, Tennessee is the most restrictive in the world-yes, the world. Once again, I can’t make this stuff up. We require drivers to be at least 25 years old—even as school districts struggle to find enough qualified people willing to do this incredibly important job.

I hear elected officials talk about reducing bureaucracy, cutting red tape and getting government out of the way. Yet sometimes we turn a blind eye to the unnecessary barriers right in front of us. To be honest, it was Governor Bill Lee’s administration that killed the school bus legislation this year. Once again—I can’t make this stuff up.

I have learned something else during my years in public service: if you don’t have a lobbyist, often times you’re out of luck.

School bus drivers don’t have powerful lobbyists walking the halls of the Capitol. Like my father—a World War II veteran who later drove a school bus—they are hardworking men and women who rise before daylight, safely transport our children to school, deal with many of the same behavioral challenges our teachers face, return in the afternoon to bring those children safely home, and shoulder an enormous responsibility every single day.

But there is something else I’ve noticed: school bus drivers need a more united voice. There can be bickering, disagreements and strong personalities within the profession. I know two ladies who are friends of mine—I will keep their names anonymous. That’s human nature—but if drivers want meaningful change, they have to learn to work together, communicate and find common ground.

I’m reminded of Ecclesiastes 4:12: “A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”

There is strength in unity. When people who share the same concerns remain divided, bureaucrats wins. Division makes it easier to maintain the status quo and harder to bring about common-sense solutions.

School bus drivers deserve a voice, too. But that voice becomes much stronger when drivers stand together. And sometimes our job as elected representatives is simply to listen to the hardworking people who don’t have a lobbyist—and help bring people together to find solutions.

If we want change, we cannot allow personalities and disagreements to become stronger than the cause that unites us: safely getting Tennessee’s children to and from school.

The question is: What kind of legacy will we leave them?