As a pilot, only two bad things can happen to you (and one of them will):
a. One day you will walk out to the aircraft, knowing it is your last flight, or
b. One day you will walk out to the aircraft, not knowing it is your last flight.
I walked out to ‘the Jet’ on 15 July 1988, knowing it was NOT my last flight in a T-38. It was the day I retired from the USAF; but somehow, I knew it wasn’t my last flight in the T-38.
My last flight in the ’38 came on 25 May 2006.
“We send our little Indian boys and girls to school, and when they come back talking English, they come back swearing. There is no swear word in the Indian languages, and I haven’t yet learned to swear.”
Gertrude S. Bonnin (Zitkala-Sa)
Yankton Sioux
And now this off the Air Force Association “morning brief:”
“USAF Will Scrap, Not Mothball, the A-10.”
This man, is systematically dismantling our armed forces, per the direction of his handlers…
Went out to the base this morning (180th Fighter Wing) to talk with Beth for bit. There were two airmen (Security Police) on duty at the gate when I drove up for an ID check. It looked like a new airman and her supervisor. After checking my ID the young airman waved me through with a nice smile. But a ‘nice smile’ doesn’t cut it – not in my Air Force. It is Military and Air Force custom and courtesy to render a salute to an officer; whether that officer be an active duty officer or a retired officer.
I hesitated a moment, thinking the senior airman might “break the code,” but he didn’t. In previous incidents like this, I have driven on, saying nothing. But today I didn’t. And not anymore.
At first I asked if there was a “moratorium on saluting.” When I saw the confusion in their eyes I took a simpler approach and explained a little bit about military custom and courtesy. From their demeanor, they knew what I was talking about…
After my short but firm one-sided discussion, they both came to attention and saluted. It was almost if they were embarrassed; they knew. And that was that.
(Of note, last week I was out in Albuquerque for a meeting. I stayed on Kirkland AFB. Every time I passed through the gate I was stopped for an ID card check. And every time the airman rendered a snappy salute, as is the custom. Often I was told, “Thank you for serving, Sir.”)
I think, for my part, if I allow ‘disrespect’ to go unchallenged it directly leads to incidents like these two. First,
and then this,
I can’t change the whole Air Force: but I can challenge “disrespect” when I encounter it. And I will.
“Knowledge was inherent in all things. The world was a library…”
Chief Luther Standing Bear, Oglala Sioux
Story Time: In Sept. 1963 I was a ‘New Kid’ at General H.H. Arnold HS, Wiesbaden, Germany. Sitting against the wall that first morning I was scared sh*tless. One person ‘reached out’ to me, Dana Shumard. I don’t know why but we became immediate friends, and kinda ‘hung out’ together for our Senior year. Upon graduation we went our separate ways…
On occasion I would “find her” for a couple years, then we would lose each other again. I knew however, that she lived here in New Mexico. When I decided to come out here to Albuquerque, I looked for her again – and I found her again!
Yesterday she and her husband met me for lunch! We had not seen each other for 50 years! That first hug is one I will treasure forever. Later the evening we met again at the Overseas Brats Regional dinner here in ABQ.
While we never ‘dated,’ I have carried her in my heart for all these years. I don’t know why; maybe she touched my soul that sunny morning in September 1963. I am so blessed to have “found her” once again, and I know it!
I once read that when the last person speaks your name then you are truly lost to the ages. Often, in my morning prayers, I will mention my gratitude for my ancestors and certain people who have ‘walked through my life.’ Johannes Holliger, Dudley Garrison, Uncle Bib, Beverly and so forth. This keeps their spirits alive with me. This morning Bill Bowman walked through my mind.
I met Bill in October 1963. Our fathers were both stationed at Chambley AFB, France at the time. Bill was a senior and I was a junior at Verdun High School. We seemed to have gravitated toward one another right away, and spent a great deal of time together.
As it turned out Bill was my first ‘drinking buddy.” We would get into his dad’s liquor cabinet and bit the vodka. Mixed it with Kool Aid. Sophisticated drinkers we were – and at such an early age! Then we would replace the vodka with water… (We were clever drinkers also!)
When I got sober, in 1994, one of the first people I thought of was Bill. I have always prided myself in solving mysteries. (For years I was an aircraft accident investigator.) So I began looking for Bill. And it wasn’t hard finding him…
His Dad’s name was “Monte,” and he was from Montana. How hard could that be? It didn’t take long before I had Monte on the phone, and he actually remembered me! Go figure. (He thought that I was one of the ‘little shits’ that drank his vodka…) Anyway, after a while he told me about Bill.
Nine months before Bill committed suicide. Alcohol and drugs. Damn!
I can not tell you how many times over the years I have thought of him – he was my friend. So I wanted to tell you about him today; to keep him ‘alive’ one more day…
“It does not require many words to speak the truth.”
I would love my grand kids to pay attention to this; especially whenever they hear a pollution speak. And to keep this in mind when they are speaking…
When I first got sober I began searching. Exactly for what I didn’t know, but I knew I was searching for something. And then one day I stumbled across a book, “The Wisdom of the Native Americans,” Edited by Kent Nerburn. And I knew I found it – Native American spirituality. So simple, so pure, so peaceful. (I have since looked for books on ‘The Wisdom of the White Man,’ and have yet to find any…) And so, in this thread I will begin sharing a few of the entries that are so dear to me…
“How smooth must be the language of the whites, when they can make right look wrong, and wrong look right.”
Black Hawk, Sioux
Look around today, you don’t have to look far. All we seem to deal with is “spin.” The Native Americans have another word for “spin.” It’s called “lying.”
