You're Gonna Do WHAT?

Today I am going to share with you a non-ministry story that is dedicated to my sons, Shawn and William and grand kids, Antonella, Bradley and Hailey. This story is meant to encourage them and you, to have dreams that are beyond your age and imagined limitations.

Many years ago, on today date, July 14, and at the age of 17 years old, the Federal Aviation Agency check pilot climbed out of my plane and congratulated me on passing my flight test and earning my Private Pilots Certificate. What an achievement. The quest started around May when a high school buddy told me that he had recently started flying lessons at the airport.

We talked about it but I had not considered it even though I lived near the airport. In fact, small planes flew over my house constantly as they entered the traffic pattern to land. Flying a plane? Never really gave them a thought. I wonder if I could do that too. The seed had been planted. Many times after school he and I went to the airport and I watched him take his lessons in a little two place Cessna 150.

The Hurdle
If he can do this so can I. We both came from average middle class families with no extra money for this kind of activity. But a bigger hurdle than the lack of money loomed on my horizon, it was my Italian mother.

Nearly every Friday night my family had a tradition of going to my dad's Elks Club for the Friday Night Fish Fry. I can't tell you the date that I sprung the big question but the event is still vivid in my memory. If the building still existed, I could show you the exact place we were seated.

It Was Time
I can remember the "pin drop" silence that surrounded our table when I announced that I wanted to take flying lessons.

Mind you, I hadn't been a problem kid for my parents. So I earned a lot of freedom at an early age. I also started earning money in the eighth grade collecting money as a parking lot attendant during the always hot Phoenix summers. My drivers license test was passed on my 16th birthday. My already old, all black 1939 Chevrolet two door "Martin Deluxe" was paid for and so was it's gas and insurance. I was a pretty responsible kid.

Back at the dinner table and for the first time in my life that I could remember, my mom was speechless.  I realized that I had stretched the "apron strings" far beyond their limit. Her first response was "You're gonna do WHAT?" Quickly followed by an empathic "NO!". Followed by a third rapid fire declaration, "You can die in those little planes."

The First One to Talk
Then there was the silence. It was another "pin drop" silence time at the table. My dad and sister had the wisdom to stay out of this discussion. The battle was between the typical Italian mother, always favored to win, and the impetuous "you are my only son" teenager. You really have to be Italian, Jewish or come from an other traditional family to understand the dynamics here. With unknown and unearned wisdom on my part, I stayed silent. It was what all good negotiators and sales people know, the first one to talk, looses.

Mom spoke first. She stated what she thought would be the final "death blow" to this idea. And a 16 year old teenager's "not completely thought out" fantasy. She said, "I'm not going to  pay for it." My retort was "You won't have to. I will and I will never ask you for any money." Her response was "If I allow you do this, I am not going to put one dime into it." She knew that this achievement, even in those days, was serious money my family didn't have. My desire overwhelmed logic and I told her, "You won't have too. I will do it all."

Later I realized her refusal to fund the lessons released her from any "blood money guilt" if something really did happen to me. It's Italian mom thinking.

Various odd jobs put money in my pocket for my very first lesson on July 4. Chief Flight Instructor Les Taylor from Saguaro Aviation at Sky Harbor Airport gave me my first lesson in a Cessna 150 which was registered as N1135Y. Funny the things you can remember.

By August 29 and in less than 7 flight hours, I soloed in another Cessna 150, N4219U. One year and ten days later on 14 July I had the first in a series of aviation licenses and ratings. By the way, I just checked the FAA registration and both planes are currently registered and I assume flying. I hope they are not "hanger queens."

My mom never put a dime into any of my flight training. Nobody did. Only the geeky, teenage kid with a strong desire to put the "surely bonds of the earth" below him as often as possible, made it happen. Something that I can always be proud of accomplishing.

My strong willed Italian mom became my biggest fan.To help me build flight time, every now and then, she would gather up her girl friends and arrange to have what pilots call is a $100 hamburger somewhere a couple of flying hours away. They got an expensive burger and I got the flying time. They also could brag about riding in one of those "little airplanes". My dad, on the other hand, was scared to death of flying in anything big or small. He actually went with me on a few local flights but it was not fun for him. But he at least tried doing it a couple of times.

If our desire is strong enough, we can really do anything. It might take longer than we think or hope. It might be in God's timing instead of ours. But it can be done. It CAN happen but we must have the dream to dream.

Blessings,

Rev. Lawrence Blakeslee
Missionary to Europe & Asia

PS. I haven't forgotten my promise to surprise you. It will be in the next posting. It too is a dream fulfilled. This time God fulfilled it.