Monthly Archives: February 2013

Chapter 58, “Magic 8 Ball”

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When I was a kid, my cousins had all of the cool stuff.  That’s not to say we were jealous and that we didn’t have stuff, it’s just that it seemed like their stuff was much cooler.  We had a cousin who had a pinball machine in the basement, one that had a pool table, one that had an in ground pool and the list goes on.  We didn’t hang out with them often but when we did we knew it would be an adventure.

One cousin had one of those “Magic 8 balls”.  You know what I mean.  A spherical plastic 8 ball filled with some kind of thick transparent liquid and a floating thing inside with messages printed on it.  You were supposed to shake the thing, ask a question to the universe, flip it over and read the answer through a little window in the bottom.  It would say things like “Definitely”, or “Ask again later”, or “It’s a possibility”.  Brilliant insightful advise!   It was just a silly party game, but I remember us not liking the answer so continuing to flip the ball until we got the answer we wanted.

Over the years I’ve had lots of people come to me for advice.  Most of the time it’s over something technical.  What kind of flooring do I like for a kitchen?  How do you hang cabinets?  Are pot lights hard to install?  Those sorts of things.  But sometimes they’re tough life questions.  “Should I take a job offer?”   “My boyfriend wants me to move in with him, should I”.  Why can’t I find a nice girl?  I’ve always tried to give honest heartfelt advice, as painful as that can sometimes be.  Now, I don’t expect people to take my word as gospel, but what frustrates me is when they chose the opposite path, things go horribly wrong, and then they come back to me for more advice.  Which is usually the same advice I gave in the first place.

I think sometimes we want to treat God like our “Magic 8 ball”.  We say we’re seeking God’s will but when we’re not getting the answer “we” want we just flip him over, give him a shake, and ask again.  The other trap is framing the prayer in a way that we think will only produce the outcome we want.  It would be like going to a car showroom to buy a car and telling the salesman that you were totally open to any car on the lot.  Any price, style, color, options, the sky’s the limit as long as it’s not green, white, silver, grey, red, yellow, black, have two doors,  a hatchback, a SUV, get less than 35 miles per gallon, or be made outside the US.  You think you’re being open minded when all you’re really asking for is a blue, four door subcompact!  I think you get the picture.  If you want direction, to really learn God’s will, then you have to approach him and listen with a wide open heart and mind.  Throw out the qualifiers and be open to change.

Chapter 57 – “From the back of the room”

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Over the years I’ve seen a lot of squadron commanders come and go.  Their styles and personalities run the full spectrum.  At the one end you have guys who want to continue being “one of the guys” when they become the guy in charge.  It usually doesn’t end well.  Then you have the guys who become the “my way or the highway” guys and they usually reach similar ends.  But I’ve been most entertained by the guys who started out as the “guy in the back of the room”.  Let me explain.

Every organization has a person, sometimes more than one, who likes to sit in the back of the room and, regardless of who’s up front speaking or making decisions, makes snide remarks.  Sometimes the remarks are just audible to those in close proximity but sometimes they’re meant for everyone to hear.  Often times he’s the “life of the party” kind of guy who’s just looking for a quick laugh but sometimes it’s just someone who likes to stir the pot.  Either way, they take pride in the fact that they’re, obviously, much smarter and cleverer than the people up front and everyone needs to know it.  The fun happens when one of those guys becomes the guy in charge.  It doesn’t happen often, but when it does it a thing to behold.

I remember one commander in particular who, after years of making smart remarks from the back himself, threatened to take disciplinary action against anyone who did it when he was in charge.  He was nearly laughed out of the room.  You can learn a lot about people by where they sit in a room.  When a person is new to an organization they’ll usually sit in the back, getting the lay of the land, and then they’ll slowly migrate closer to the front as they become more invested and want to be in a position to make positive inputs.  But the folks who stay in the back, even after years of participation, often fall into the “whine for whining’s sake” black hole.

I’ve actually met people who have told me that their “gift” is the gift of dissention.  In other words, they feel it’s their obligation to disagree with everything those in charge try to do.  I don’t know if it’s the union mentality of “the man’s trying to keep me down” or if it’s just some strange personality disorder.  I’ve looked and looked but I can’t find any scriptural reference to that gift.  I just keep coming across crazy things like love, and peace, and joy, and hope, and gentleness, and kindness, and patience, and goodness, and self-control.  I just don’t see whining, and complaining, and being negative listed as godly attributes.  But maybe I’m missing something.

Now don’t get me wrong, there is always room for disagreement, but there is a right and a wrong way to communicate that.  Undermining the organization is not the way.  Creating your own agenda without knowing all of the facts, or making assumptions, is not the way.   In fact, I’ve always felt that there’s a special place reserved in hell for those that won’t take a leadership role, in anything, but perpetually criticize those who do.  I think it would be a room,  single exit, with a fire raging just outside.  There would be an unlimited supply and variety of fire extinguishers available but everyone would have a different opinion about which kind to use and no one would make a decision because no one wanted to be responsible if they were wrong.  All of this happening, for eternity, as the fire made the room hotter and hotter.  Maybe I’ve put too much thought into this!  Or maybe I’ve just seen it happen too often.

Following isn’t always easy but, I can promise you, leading is much harder.  You just have to remember that it’s never leaderships goal for an organization to fail.  To viciously, either publicly or privately, undermine leadership is telling your audience that those in charge don’t care about the future and are actively seeking failure.  Do you really believe that to be true?

Thomas Paine had it right, “Lead , follow, or get out of the way”

You can’t lead from the back of the room.

 

Chapter 56 – “251 Dickson Ave”

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A correction from last week:

We’ll be performing at “565 Live” on 23 February, NOT 22 February!  I guess when you’re retired you lose track of dates.  Every day is Saturday!

Sorry I’m a little late this week.  Maybe I’ll tell the story some day.

Working on my mom’s kitchen got me thinking about our perception of what “home” is.  Most of us have fond memories of growing up.  Going home means remembering the sounds and smells of things familiar and happy.  Whether it’s the predictable squeaks on the staircase or the smells of mom’s cooking, there are powerful triggers that send us back decades when we go “home”.  It’s a little different for me because going home means walking up my driveway, turning left and walking 137 feet.

It’s not that I’m not nostalgic about being in my mom’s house it’s just that, as I’ve said before, many of my memories involve headaches from banging my head and waiting for my sister to get out of the 1 bathroom.  Holidays at mom’s are great, but not for the claustrophobic.  It’s always been that way and as we pop out more grandkids and great grandkids it’s only getting worse.  So, when I started dating Peg in 1973, my perspective of “home” changed.

Peg’s parents bought their house in 1956 for the staggering sum of $21,500.  It sat in the very center of Ben Avon on a level, double corner lot.  It was built in 1900 and is a 40′ x 40′, full three story high with heated basement, grand entrance and staircase, 10 foot ceilings with decorative plaster inlays, inlaid hardwood floors, double pocket doors, third story servants quarters with servants staircase, Victorian mansion.  When they bought it, it had been converted into a duplex but they quickly turned it back into a single family home and for the next 53 years raised their 4 children and entertained their numerous grandchildren.  It was, and is, an architectural masterpiece.

By the time Peg and I went on our first date (to see Fantasia in Squirrel Hill on September 23rd, 1973) her siblings were all out of the house.  So the enormous house was occupied by a total of three people. No, wait, I forgot about her grandmother who lived in the servants quarters on the third floor who I only spotted once or twice a year.  So that makes four people.  You could go for days and not run into anyone else!  Peg had her choice of four bedrooms but she, of course, had the largest one.  I spent my first Christmas with the Redman family in 1973 and for the next 35 years it was my second “home”.  At my parents house it was fun filled, cram packed, “don’t stand up or you’ll lose your chair”, pandemonium. At Peg’s parent’s house things were always much more mellow.

Peg’s dad passed away in 2002 leaving her mom to rattle around by herself for the next six years.  She managed, with Peg and Lou’s help, to maintain the place.  She had no desire to go anywhere else and eventually passed quietly, surrounded by family, in the house she loved.  After the funeral, Peg and her siblings were left with the inevitable question.  What happens to the house?

Peg and I had talked about what would happen for a long time.  We were in a position to purchase the house.  To make all of the changes that needed to be made, to bring it into this century, to keep it in the family as a place where both of our families could gather comfortably and keep traditions alive.  But at what price?  The utilities, on a yearly budget plan, where nearly $600 per month.  Taxes another $600 per month.  Although it had plenty of property to build one, it had no garage.  Emotion versus practicality.  Those that know me know that practicality had to win.  Do I sometimes regret the decision?  Of course, but the young family that bought it has a real passion for the history.  They invite us back every Christmas to see the changes they have made and give us a chance to remember.  They’re doing all of the modifications I would have done and are building new memories with their children.

When parents pass there is always the desire to keep the family home in the family.  Everyone wants someplace to go back to.  To recapture happy childhood memories.  To gather under one familiar roof.  To see, and hear, and smell, and feel again the things that made us a family.  But nothing stays the same.  Change is inevitable, and necessary.  We can fondly remember the past but we can’t cling to it.  When we stop moving forward we begin to slowly die.  It’s true for everything, not just the family home.  Relationships, careers, companies, churches, marriages, everything.  But don’t get me wrong.  Change for change sake can be just as disastrous.  It’s our past that provides an anchor for the future. The very core of what we are, who we are, what we believe in our hearts defines us and gives us a framework for the future.

There is a door frame in the dining room where Peg and her siblings were measured every year on their birthday.  A line on the moulding with a name and a date.  The first thing the new owners did was to paint the house.  The whole thing.  From top to bottom.  Everything, except the dining room door frame.  If you forget the past you’ll surely screw up the future.

Chapter 55 – Charlatorn

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Let’s start off with a little self-promotion.  If you live in the Pittsburgh area, or will be in the area sometime in the next month or so, here’s the latest Carnival of Souls schedule for those who appreciate Celtic music:

22 February, 8:00 – 10:00  – “565 Live”, located in beautiful downtown Bellevue, PA at 565 Lincoln Ave.  It’s a brand new venue so come out and support the local music scene.  There is a cover and, since Bellevue is “dry”, you’ll have to BYOB if you’re into that sort of thing.

2 March, 7:00 – 9:00 – Sacred Heart church on Rte 65 in Emsworth, PA.  Great Irish food.  We start playing right after evening St Patrick’s day Mass.

17 March, 7:00 – 10:00 – “Mogies” in Lower Burrell, PA, 3210 Leechburg Rd.  We’ve played there every St Patty’s Day for at least 13 years.  Reservations required. There is a cover.  724.339.6904

Hope to see some of you!!

 

For some strange reason, throughout my Air Force career, I was usually paired up with folks of, shall we say, diminutive stature.  Now it could be that, since I’m tall, lots of people seem short to me, but I think it’s a little more than that.  I’m convinced it’s either height karma or folks in leadership positions who think it’s really funny.  Either way it doesn’t really matter to me it’s just made for some odd photo ops over the years and more than one awkward situation.  Here’s one.

When I left active duty and the venerable B-52 and came home to the C-130 I, of course, had to attend school to learn the new airplane.  “New” being relative.  Off I went to beautiful Little Rock, Arkansas where generations of C-130 pilots from here, and around the world, have trained.  And it truly is an international training program.  I flew with fellow students from at least three countries including Zaire, Great Britain, and, the subject of this story, Thailand.

The Royal Thai Air Force had finally decided to retire their old C-123s and purchase a small fleet of brand new C-130s.  Now there are several ways to train your pilots in a new aircraft.  You can either send them all to school, in this case overseas, or you can just send a small cadre of your most experienced and then let them trickle down the training to everyone else back home.  The latter is usually the most economical option and that’s what the Thai’s decided to do.  Here’s where I fit into the story.

After you finish the classroom portion of the training they pair you up with another pilot for simulators and flying.  When I showed up at the school they told me that I was 20 hours short of having enough time to train directly into the left seat as an aircraft commander and that I would have to go through the school as a copilot.  I wasn’t bothered.  I was transferring to a new mission in  a new aircraft and I saw great value in sitting in the right seat and learning the ropes before being the guy responsible for everything.  Besides, I’d have to go back to Little Rock for aircraft commander upgrade and that meant more paydays.  When you’re a reserve bum it’s all about manday/payday management!  So, I finished classroom training and was introduced to my partner for the next two months.  His name was Charlatorn.

Charlatorn was going to be the first Thai pilot qualified in the C-130.  So he had been sent to Little Rock to attend every C-130 school available.  He had already been through the copilot training course and was starting the aircraft commander upgrade class after which he was going to go right into the instructor training course and finish with the flight examiner class.  All told, it was going to take over a year!  He was a great guy but, like many Thai’s, he was very short.  I’m talking 5’2″ short.  Which made reaching the rudder pedals and seeing over the dash a bit of a challenge.  They scheduled us for our simulators and I was thrilled, not really, to find out that all of our sims would be from midnight to 4:00 am.  I have never been a all nighter kind of person and I quickly learned that Charlatorn wasn’t either.  At around 2 AM he would magically forget English and revert to running checklists in Thai.  After about thirty minutes of me just guessing what he was trying to say and running the proper emergency procedure, he would just go catatonic and stare straight ahead.  For the rest of the sim I would just fly solo and react to all of the emergencies on my own.  Good times!

We finally started flying and things got even more interesting.  As long as there were no clouds my little partner did great but as soon as we entered the weather all bets were off.  He could fly on instruments if you gave him a heading, altitude, and airspeed but the subtleties of instrument approach procedures were lost to him.  After five flights our instructor recommended us for a checkride.  Frankly, I was shocked.  I took the instructor aside and expressed my doubts about the sanity of throwing Charlatorn to the Stan/Eval wolves.  He told me that in Thailand they rarely flew IMC (in the weather) they were almost exclusively fair weather fliers and all they needed Charlatorn to demonstrate was basic knowledge of instrument procedures.  And he had a plan.  He told me to finish my checkride and then to get into the navigator seat and talk Charlatorn through all of the approaches.  Tell him what heading to turn to,  what altitude to maintain, what descent rate to set, what airspeed to fly, when to lower the flaps, when to lower the landing gear, when to look out the window and land, and run all of the checklists for him.  So that’s what I did.  It was like flying a voice controlled airplane.  We flew procedure turns.  Entered the holding pattern.  Flew an ILS.  And he wired everything I told him to do.  After we were complete and taxiing in, the flight examiner, who hadn’t said a word through Charlatorn’s entire checkride, turned to me and said, “Nice job, you passed two checkrides today”.  Charlatorn just smiled.

I’m not sure I’d be interested in catching  hop with the Thai Air Force!