“Captain Jack” – Old or Bold

 

 

During my career as a forester, I had the good fortune to worked with countless characters.  One individual set the bar so high that to this day when I hear the word character, I immediately think of a pilot I called “Captain Jack”.   Captain Jack once told me that he fell in love with the helicopter at an early age; he once joked that he began flying the year after  the Wright Brothers landed at Kitty Hawk. 

There is an old saying in the flying community:  “There are old pilots and there are bold pilots but there are no old, bold pilots.”  If you have ever visited the mountains of the west where Jack flew, you would immediately understand why he was methodical in his approach to flying.  On the other hand, Jack could be a bit volatile, especially when stressed.  I always felt that this added to his charm!  If memory serves me, he was still flying helicopters well into his sixties! 

Helicopters are the aircraft of choice for most operations in the forest because of their ability to maneuver while lifting heavy loads.  The one pictured in the image above is a Hiller UH-12E and for years was the standard used by the forest industry.  As you can see, the Hillers are neither beautiful or comfortable during long flights; they were designed to be simple and dependable. 

I have many fond memories of Captain Jack, but two speak volumes about the man.

Early one spring morning we were preparing to begin a reconnaissance flight when I noticed Jack tapping on the engine warning light.  Despite being only a forester, I knew full well the significance of this light; it provided a visual indication that the engine had shut down.  When seated in the Hiller, your head was less than six feet from the business end of a jet engine, so if the engine quite, it got real quiet very fast!  So as Jack continued to tap on the light, I ask him if it might not be a good time to stop and evaluate the problem.  He just looked at me and growled the following:  “I don’t need a damn light to tell me that the engine is out!”  Lesson number one, never try to tell the pilot how to operate his aircraft.

The last time I flew with Jack was nearly as memorable.  The day began at 5 AM in the gravel parking area behind our office that we used as a landing zone.  With the helicopter sitting atop of a utility trailer, Jack and I sat quietly waiting for sufficient daylight before lifting off.  I noticed that Jack kept staring at a large pole that was about fifty feet away from where we sat.  My gut instinct told me that he suddenly have reservations about his choice for a landing zone.  I turned to Jack and asked if he wanted me to get a truck and move the helicopter and trailer before lifting off.  Without missing a beat, Jack smiled and uttered the following:  “If we hit that pole, we were never going to make it in the first place.”  Seconds later, the we lifted off and away we flew as the sun rose in the east.  Two days later we finished the project and I never saw or heard from Captain Jack again.  Every  time I see a small helicopter it causes me to wonder about Jack.

Life and Making Plans

 

 

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."  John Lennon

 

Perhaps few have noticed, but life has caused me to be absent from these pages and the greater blogosphere for the past few weeks.  I recently had surgery that has left me tired, listless, and in general, not a very happy camper.  The doctor had warned me that the recovery time would be about six weeks but I assumed his prediction applied to all his other patients but certainly not me.  At this point in time, it appears that he may be more right than wrong!

As I awaited surgery, I told myself that the recovery period would be a great time for blogging, reading, and watching a couple of Netflix DVDs that have been sitting on the shelf much of the winter.  Perhaps in another week or so I will begin to feel more like my former self and find the energy and motivation to begin posting on a more consistent basis. 

Until then, I will leave you with the words of  Garrison Keillor:  “Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.”

Hoist The Anchor

Monday evening, promptly at five PM, the museum closed the doors to the Sailing Gallery for the last time. In this day and age, if a museum is to stay financially viable, it must offer new exhibits that excite and engage. Most museums have extensive collections but limited space for public display. At any given time only a small percentage of their holdings are on display so closing a gallery is viewed as a positive change.

Over time, the sailing gallery has become one of my favorite spots when hosting a tour, especially to kids. Since the gallery featured artifacts dating to the 1800’s, it allowed visitors an opportunity to step back in time. With that step take, my job as a docent would be to use stories and create word pictures to make the artifacts come alive. Time constraints did not allow me share my stories one last time during Monday’s tour, therefore out of nostalgia, I will share a few of them with you.

This is the view of the gallery from my vantage point when giving a tour. No guest were available this day.

With guests settled into the ship’s seat shown above, I would pose the following question: “Do you think that life at sea would have been exciting in the 1800’s?” As you might expect, kids lacking in life experiences, would overwhelmingly answer yes. I would then quote a long forgotten sailor who said: “Life at sea was akin to being in jail except you had the added chance of drowning.” Old salts of the day might also comment that a sailor was far better off in jail because the food was better, you had more room, and you were with better company. This sure doesn’t bode well for excitement and adventure!

To describe the dangers of going to sea I would point to a model of a ship’s rigging that sat behind me. I then would ask the guests to imagine climbing one hundred feet or more into the rigging to raise or lower the sails. Now imagine doing this as the ship is rocked from side to side by the winds and waves of a storm. Imagine again what it would be like when the rigging was covered with snow and ice and your hands were frozen! At this point I might ask what happened to a sailor who slipped and fell from the rigging? The looks of horror on the kids faces always told me that they got the point!

This photograph would greet guests as they entered the sailing gallery.

When hosting a tour group, I like to avoid quoting lots of facts and figures. I find it much more interesting to hear stories about how or why an artifact was used within its historical context. There are however times when the rules just have to be broken. When attempting to describe how massive the ship picture above would be, the following facts say it all – such a ship would use in excess of twenty miles of rope in the ship’s rigging and its sails, which were made of canvas, would cover an area of 1.5 square miles. Now that’s one big ship!

A Pleasant Surprise

Warning, I suggest you avoid reading this post if you are eating or have a weak stomach!

Few things strike fear into the heart of a homeowner than the need to summon a plumber! I suppose that making the call for help is a personal admission of defeat. Then there is the fear of the unknown; just how much is this going to cost me. Will I have to take a second mortgage or sell something?

So begins my story. Last Friday I arrived home to find the renter of our apartment wanting to borrow a plunger. She didn’t mention what was the nature of the clog, but I was confident that my assistance would be required in short order. My hope was that the clog was confined the low flow toilet but when she failed to return in five minutes I began to fear the worse! If you have ever owned an old house, then you have likely guessed the problem, a hopelessly clogged kitchen drain.

One look at the situation and the immortal words of Hans Solo of Star Wars fame came to mind: “I have a bad feeling about this.” My feelings were correct, no amount of plunging was going to open the drain. Being cheap and foolish, I decided to disassemble the P-trap and make an attempt to reestablish drainage with my handy dandy snake. With a few turns of the wrench, the P-trap was removed and I was immediately greeted by a large volume of greasy water that quickly overflowed my containment bucket. In a matter of a few seconds, my shirt sleeves were soaked and the water had continued to drain onto the kitchen floor where I was uncomfortably perched. As I sat there soaked by greasy water, I silently admitted that it was time to call for help.

One of the nice things about living in a small community is that you can usually get a plumber to make a house call the same day. As it was already 12:30 on a Friday afternoon, I ran downstairs an made my call for help. Thankfully, and I mean that in every sense of the expression, the plumber’s dispatcher assured me that help would arrive before the end of the business day! Now all I had to do was shower, change my cloths, and await for rescue.

Around 4 PM the dispatcher called to let me know that the “Chris the plumber” should arrive in about ten minutes. After what seemed like an eternity, there was a knock at the front door and there stood a professional armed with the tools of his trade. We chatted for a few minutes while I explained the situation; he held up the electric drain cleaning snake and told me that if this didn’t do the job, them the drain couldn’t be opened. He quickly went to work and in a matter of ten minutes he said that the clog should now be history. He reassembled the P-trap and ran the water to check his work. As the water immediately disappeared from the sink creating a loud gurgling sound, Chris utter the following: “It’s a good sound, isn’t it”. Oh great, the guy’s a comedian, will there be an additional charge added to my bill?

The bill arrived the yesterday and upon opening it, I was shocked to learn that I was charged for only a half hour of labor. The total', including humorous remarks by the plumber, was a whopping $35.00! Incredible!!

R.T. Is My Hero

Wednesday evening I had the great pleasure to hear a young lady speak about how she spent this past summer. While her fellow class mates travelled to exotic locations or worked, R.T. spent two months caring for thirty of the world's poorest orphans while volunteering in South Africa. For eight to ten hours a day she feed, cleaned, and shined a little light into the lives of these kids!

As you might expect, the orphanage was not in the best of neighborhoods so personal security was always on the minds of the volunteers. R.T. told us the following story: "One day I called my parents and expressed my concerns about the security issues. As I ended the call, it occurred to me that I must have freaked them out. At that moment it hit me how lucky I was to have a family who loved and cared about me while the orphans had neither."

I believe that as long as there are people like R.T., there will always be someone who loves and cares for those little kids! So in honor of this, I have named R.T. my personal hero.

Meeting New People

One of the best things about being a docent at the museum is the opportunities it affords to meet new and interesting people. I just did a tally and noted that during 2009, I had the pleasure to give 34 adult tours and 17 educational programs to kids of all ages. During this same period, I also met visitors from 46 of the fifty states as well as individuals from Tanzania and Vietnam. It never ceases to amaze me that people come from so far and wide to visit Astoria!

Often at the conclusion of a tour, several adults will stay behind because they want to share something from their life experience. I have found these times of listening to very rewarding and always educational. During the past year, three individuals and their stories stand out. I offer a little of their stories for your reading pleasure.

In early June, I noticed a gentleman in bright yellow spandex clothing wandering the deck of the Lightship. Experience tells me that few middle age men will appear in public wearing spandex unless they are a serious bike rider. During our conversation he told me that it had been a life long goal to ride across the United States; at the time of our meeting he was in the second day of the journey. The story would have ended there except about a month later I stumbled across his blog on the Internet. I spent the rest of the summer following the progress of his journey. I am happy to report that his goal was met when he dipped the tires of his bike in the icy water off the Maine coast just after Labor Day. Congratulations on a job well done!

Another afternoon a gentleman approached me and told me how excited he was that the museum had a model of a LST, a Navy vessel capable of delivering tanks and personnel onto the unimproved shoreline. He went on to share that during the war, many of these vessels were made in his home town. With pride, he also told me that his father was one of the engineers who designed the vessel's front ramp/door. Now every time I pass the LST model, I remember that gentleman and his father's contribution to the second World War.

My final encounter occurred in the navel history gallery one morning in September. At the tour's conclusion, a woman pointed to the picture of the Japanese surrender aboard the USS Missouri and told me that her father was in the picture. As she proudly pointed to him, I felt as if I was an eye witness to the historic event!

Maybe this summer I will offer a tour that will focus on past visitors and how their stories contribute to the life of the museum.

A December Update

To my five faithful readers, perhaps a quick explanation regarding my absence is in order. No, I have not been lost in a grassy field such as the one pictured above nor did I spend time basking in the warm and sunny latitudes.

Much of the past month was spent working on a project that defined the true spirit of Christmas for me this year! I spent the better part of the month working on what I would call the community Christmas project. The program began about twenty years ago with the objective that no family should be without food or gifts on Christmas day. Everything, including the wrapping paper and tape are donated. This year the need, as you would expect, was overwhelming. We gave out over six hundred food boxes which included bread, milk, eggs, a turkey, and an assortment of canned and packaged good to meet the family's needs. I spent days sorting the cans of donated food; for the chicken soup alone, there are at least twenty different way of getting a chicken into a can of soup. I also discovered that there is a soup called Italian style wedding soup; so could someone tell me why Italy needs it own special soup just for weddings?

All the time while we were sorting and filling food boxes, another team of volunteers were wrapping gifts and matching them to the requests of specific children. It still boggles my mind that money was donated to purchase over seventy-five bikes of all shapes and sizes. I am certain that on Christmas day there were more than a couple of smiling kids in Astoria!

The final stage of the project happened the Sunday before Christmas when the adults came to pick up the food and gifts. For me the day was filled with mixed emotions; you could see joy and pain in the faces of those waiting in line for their turn. I am sure that for many, this may have been the first time they had to depend upon the generosity of others. It was also a bit unsettling as I recognized a number of the people which I sure added to their discomfort. On a more joyous note, there were the smiles of kids packing out bags of gifts and the simple expressions of thanks from parents that made it all worth while.

My lovely wife and I also made a journey to the east coast to spend Christmas with my family who live about an hour south of Boston. We arrived in the early evening of the 22nd to bone chilling winds and a temperature hovering around eighteen degrees. Thankfully we anticipated such conditions and were prepared with extra layers of clothing, gloves, and hats. No journey is without it trials and this one was no exception. Upon arriving at the baggage claim area, we soon learned that my wife's suit case has decided to spent a little more time at New York's JFK airport. The Delta baggage representative did assure us that it was on the next flight and should arrive in just about an hour. She even gave us a seven dollar food voucher; at airport prices it's hardly a meal but a nice gesture all the same.

Finally with baggage in hand and nearly eighteen hours without significant sleep, we board the shuttle bus for the car rental experience. If you have ever rented a car then you know exactly what I mean! After a short wait, we discover that the rental lot was nearly cleaned out so we had to wait while they prepare a vehicle for us. No problem, at that point another half hour or so didn't really matter.

Otherwise, Christmas and visiting with family was great. My sister cooked an outstanding dinner and my mother was constantly offering us homemade cookies. I ever got to spend some time with my best friend from high school which is always a treat.

The return trip was also one very long day complete with multiple flight delays, but we arrived at our final destination in one piece and very happy to be home. I still remembr the first time I travelled by air, it was in July of 1969. Oh how the world has changed since then; it's kind of sad.