Friday, December 7, 2007

Destroy the Teacher


Aviation is an art. It is taught to the new generation by individuals who take students who are worthy and foster them into it. Sure there are businesses that do this for money. The fellow travelers of whom I speak now do it for free, for the love of the thing. I was fortunate enough to meet such a person at the tender age of 12. His name is J.H.H. I had a friend in 6th grade whose dad was a very famous Astronaut. He and I made our minds up then that we were going to fly. My friend had the leg up for sure. I had to find a way. Mr. J.H.H. lived in my neighborhood. He had a Cessna 170B in his backyard. It had been damaged on the ground by a tornado. He was affecting the repairs at home. Naturally, I being the curious type had to see this REAL airplane. Friends and I had been building model airplanes and rockets for about 4 years at this point. Here was the real thing dropped right in my lap. I came to meet Mr. J.H.H. and began asking lots and lots of questions. My first exposure to aviation was sheet metal work. I learned how to buck rivets. After about 2 years of work, the 170 was ready to fly. Before flying, we spent several evenings a week for many weeks doing ground school. This grounded me in the absolute need to pursue academics. There was no question about what do I need to learn this stuff for? I'll never use it when I grow up. I needed to know allot of stuff to get to do what I wanted to do. Then the fateful day came to fire up the engine. I was excited. I was mesmerized by the sights and sounds that a real airplane made. The sunlight glinting off the propeller as it idled. I remember jumping up and down as the bird roared off the grass. You see, the runway at S&S pipeline patrol field in League City, Texas was grass. That airport too was later carpeted over by suburbia. Soon we were flying about once a week. I learned the old school way. There were high tension power lines that ran right next to the airport so we made our approached right by the towers. These are significant in that my friend and I used to climb these towers and look over the landscape as if we were flying. I tried my best to learn and be worthy of the effort. I am forever grateful to J.H.H. for taking the time. It is probable that I would have found a way to fly if I had not met Mr. J.H.H. but it was he who stepped up. That meeting set the course of my life. I just got a card from him that gave the news that he had to stop after 65 years of flying for a medical reason. 65 years is not a bad run. I should be so lucky. There is an Irish proverb that says, "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." I believe it. When a student advances in his profession there comes a time when they go beyond and are on their own. Now this may read as being egotistical but there is a great quote from "Leave of Grass" by Whitman that I wish use here:

"I am the teacher of athletes. He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own. He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher."

Salute my dear Mr. J.H.H. you loosed the arrow that was me.

2 comments:

earthmama said...

so who will you pull into your bow? :)

beautful post...

StoneCutter said...

I was moved by your comments on Sangha over at Arial Pork. Great to see this here. When I was in college I would bum flights at a grass strip from an instructor there, or go with one of his students who was a friend of mine. Never got my license but went up whenever I could. Miss those days a great deal, especially the biplanes.