“Are we there yet . . . How about now?”

Lola’s career in entertainment came as something of a surprise for family and friends. The comely milk maiden crooned the cows and choired on Sundays, until that one fateful day when a barnstorming pilot touched down in a pasture on the back forty of the family farm. Literally swept off her feet and into the wild blue yonder, Lola ran away with the flyboy to become a featured performer in the Acme Flying Circus and Crop Dusting Service as a wing walker, thrilling crowds all across the great Midwest with daring and death-defying feats, until her partner in flight, drafted into the Navy and sent off to war, was reported as MIA over a remote rain forest half a world away.

A despondent Lola drifted away from performing for a time, trying to find a more “normal” life for herself as a stewardess for Pan American Airways, but after walking a biplane’s wing, pushing a service cart up and down a jetliner’s aisle serving coffee and tea, was just as downright boring as being back on the farm, so she stepped off her last flight at Tan Son Nhat Airport in Saigon to devote herself to missionary work, teaching young children English by reading them Uncle Remus and harboring guarded hopes of hearing some news about a certain missing airman from far flung jungle villages.

Returning state-side again, Lola careened around a carousel of different jobs in different cities, until one night, struggling to make ends meet as a taxi dancer in Kansas City, the band’s regular singer was rushed to the hospital having gagged herself unconscious on a hairball and a familiar hand stretched out — as if across a wing again — to pull her from the dance floor to the stage to finish the set, her voice and heart singing and soaring as high as ever before.

Lola hit the road that full-mooned night — a road to an unknown “there” — with Project Mojo, leaving behind everything but notebooks of memories and dreams captured in song to begin her second life in show business and has not looked back since.