BANGOR – From the Pacific Theater to Europe to the North Pole, pilots are what I’ll always remember about Pilots Grill when it closes later this year.

In town a few years ago to speak to the American Legion and promote his book about flying the plane that dropped the bomb on Nagasaki, ending World War II, Maj. Gen. Charles Sweeney made the rounds – the Bangor Air National Guard Base, the Korean War Memorial and a special gathering at a restaurant.For the daughter of a sailor whose life may have been saved when Sweeney’s actions ended the war, each moment that weekend was amazing – interviewing the general, seeing him greeted by scores of grateful veterans and their families, talking with him quietly about how hard it was to walk in the ashes of Nagasaki after the war.

But dinner on Saturday night was reunion time. Sweeney stopped in his tracks when he walked into Pilots and saw Brig. Gen. Phil Tukey, who commanded the base in Bangor for 28 years and had been a pilot in Europe during the war.

With eyes sparkling and a wide Irish grin, Sweeney grabbed Tukey in a big bear hug. Moments later, he embraced Col. Donald Strout of Orono, who was a year behind him in flight school.

There were others joining the group, including restaurant owner Bill Zoidis, who has met a skyful of pilots over the years.

We were listening to history as these three fliers – Sweeney, the boisterous one; Tukey, a bit dignified; and Strout, the quietest of the three – recalled their days in flight school, in the military, and in later years.

Tukey and Strout have since died, but pictures I took of the pilots help me remember that special evening of recollections covering more than a half-century.

The other “pilot” in my special memories is Santa Claus, or in this case a Santa’s Helper who flies neither sleighs nor planes and looks an awful lot like my husband Gaelen.

The bearded one had been asked to don the fluffy red suit to attend a special dinner involving a young couple and their parents.

The nervous Santa sweated all the way to the restaurant, hoping he could do justice to the task before him. I followed close behind, taking photographs here and there as he distributed candy canes to eager children and helpful waitresses. Into a smaller dining room we went, with Santa merrily passing out the candy. Reaching Amy Clark, one-half of the young couple, he leaned over and said apologetically, “I seem to have run out of candy canes. Maybe this will do.”

Gently Santa placed a small velvet box in front of Amy, whose startled look was quickly replaced by one of growing recognition at what might be enclosed.

Soon a beautiful diamond ring was on her finger, and she was giving a big kiss to Philip Badger III. Yes, they got married, and now they have a beautiful son.

These are but two memories of Pilots, a restaurant that has inspired countless more among diners from here to the North Pole.