Sport Flying with In Flight USA - December 2010
The Gift
By Ed Downs
This holiday column is being written early Sunday morning, with the expectation of a good day. Shortly, this writer will be heading to church, ready to partake of a terrific service followed by our calibration of Thanksgiving. The holiday season is in full swing and most of America is getting serious about selecting the perfect gift for loved ones as “Black Friday” approaches. This early hour promotes reminiscing, and the LSA theme of this column brings to mind a gift I received almost 20 years ago, to the day. Allow an old pilot a moment of sharing.
My local community airport had decided to take advantage of beautiful Indian-Summer weather to hold an open house and mini-airshow. Although late in the season, with Thanksgiving decorations having already given way to the wonders of commercial Christmas paraphernalia, a well-known resident airshow pilot agreed to participate in the program. The local EAA chapter pulled together a fine selection of planes to be displayed, including a couple of warbirds. My company fired up a major EAA Young Eagles event with the intent of setting records by flying at least 100 kids. The Young Eagles program was new at that time and my wife, Sue, set up an assembly-line system to process the paperwork and conduct the educational program that accompanied each flight. The idea was that two planes (both meeting today’s definition of LSA) and three pilots would spend minimum time with ground activities, giving them the ability to offer each participant the best flight experience possible. I signed up to fly a feisty little tail dragger (later to earn fame at major airshows) and all was ready to go.
Show day dawned in the finest tradition of Indian Summer. Our Young Eagles “assembly line” kicked in and a queue of expectant flyers began to form. I elected to fly from the right seat, allowing the Young Eagle candidate to get the feel of being a “real pilot.” Piles of cushions were standing by to boost the kids who had difficulty seeing over the round nose, “Monocoupe look-a-like” of the LSA I was flying. Headsets were provided and our intent was to give each child a brief flying lesson. Our small engines barked to life and the expected fun began!
At this point, it would be nice to say that each youngster I flew thoroughly enjoyed their first flight and learning experience, but that was not the case. Most of my kids had flown before and simply showed up for a free airplane ride. “Where’s my house” or “where’s my school” were the most often asked questions and only a few expressed interest in actually flying the plane. Frankly, I was disappointed. With more than 30 years of professional flying under my belt (at that time), most of my flying had simply become part of a job, sometimes dangerous and often dull. I was hoping that these kids would lend some refreshing excitement to my experience, but that was not happening. Our flights shortened to little more than a wide, right, traffic pattern by the end of the day. With more than 60 flights under my belt, I looked forward to the last Eagle flight and was relieved when signaled that the little girl walking towards my plane with her mother would “be a wrap.”
“Ami” was perhaps 10 years old and very petit. Wide-eyed and shy, Ami did not speak as she was shuffled up onto a pile of cushions and was fitted with headsets so large that she looked like a Disney character. A quick intercom check solicited a head nod, but no words. Her gaze shifted to the left as she peered out the side window, unable to see anything over the nose of the plane. My primary focus now was to keep today’s record of “no hurling” intact, and not being able to see her face did not bode well. A fast taxi was followed by a CTAF call and departure towards a setting sun. I started a well-practiced line of patter, intended to both inform and distract, hoping to offset the occasional late afternoon bump. Little Ami continued to stare out of the left window, her head moving slightly from left to right but never looking in my direction. The long downwind leg seemed to take forever as my one-way conversation ran out of steam. The intercom was silent by the time I started a wide turn to base leg, my left hand on the throttle to ease in a power reduction. My last flight would apparently end in another disappointment. Then, I received “the gift.”
I felt the child’s hand softly grasp my left hand, still holding the throttle. Surprised, and expecting the worst, I looked in Ami’s direction as she turned to look directly at me. Tears were streaming down her face. For the first time, I saw her huge blue eyes wide open in absolute wonder. In a whisper, the little girl said only three words, “It’s so beautiful.” As if in rapture, Ami turned back to the window to soak in the new worlds before her. Her hand remained on mine.
What was this child seeing that I was overlooking? Had she seen the wonders of flight that I had lost? A quick 360 scan disclosed the beauty I had overlooked all day. To the west lay the Blue Mountains of Eastern Oregon, capped with spectacular lenticular clouds. To the south was the vast expanse of rugged northern Nevada, slashed by the great Snake River. Looking east, one could easily make out the famed mountains of Sun Valley and volcanic flatlands of Craters of the Moon National Park. Looking north, Ami’s best view, were the northern Rocky Mountains and primal Sawtooth National Reserve. The setting sun glistened off snow-capped peaks with lower levels awash in the deep purple of late afternoon, a living testament to Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s poetic reference to “pilots of the purple twilight.” Indeed, it was so beautiful. For the first time in many years, I was seeing my world through the wide blue eyes of a child. Little Ami gave me a gift that I have retained to this day.
Epilog: Ami held my hand until she climbed out of the plane. She did not speak another word, but glanced back as she walked away. Her mother took no note that she had been crying. I can only guess that she grew up to have a family and, I hope, teach her kids to appreciate the beauty of our world. The plane I flew evolved into the prototype for today’s archetypical LSA, appearing in countless magazines in support of the LSA certification program and sport flying. This old pilot has since flown high above the Grand Tetons (yes, in an LSA), crossed the great plains of Nebraska, scud run the bayous of Louisiana, argued with fast talking controllers of the Eastern corridor and negotiated Appalachian hollows at night. It was all “so beautiful.” I learned to truly appreciate the wonder of God’s creations and the experiences He challenges us with every day to strengthen our faith. Perhaps this is the time of year that we should all recall that 2000 years ago a child arrived on the scene to give us a gift. Merry Christmas!
“For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,
Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be;
Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight dropping down with costly bales;
Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'd a ghastly dew
From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue;
Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm,
With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunder-storm;
Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags were furl'd
In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world.”
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
