"Perhaps..."

Good fortune? Bad fortune? Handling reality should be easy. It's not.

The author, front row, far right. I’d just entered the seminary, age 14.

There’s an old story about a farmer, his son, a horse, and neighbors who offer opinions of the man’s good-news, bad-news existence. The farmer’s horse gallops off, seemingly forever. When neighbors bemoan the man’s bad fortune the farmer says, “Perhaps.” When the prodigal horse returns with a mare and a colt, neighbors exult for the farmer’s great fortune. He says, “Perhaps.”

When the farmer’s son breaks his leg riding the horse, they offer condolences. The farmer says, “Perhaps.” War comes, but due to his broken limb the boy can’t serve, so neighbors say, good fortune! “Perhaps,” the farmer says. The war over, each soldier is given a plot of land, and a horse to work it, but of course the son didn’t serve. Neighbors again bemoan the farmer’s bad news, and on and on.

In the photo above, I’m on the far right, age 14, a freshman in a catholic seminary. I looked forward to the major seminary, and ordination as a missionary priest. But after four years of study I was rejected for the major seminary, and sent packing. My dream shattered, I had no idea what I was to do with my life. I’d dreamt of being anointed among an elite group, posted to a foreign land, where I’d work among people needing my compassion and skills to better their lives. Bad news? Perhaps.

Helicopters in Vietnam, 1970. (Taken from my Huey)

In December 1968, after losing my life’s dream of the priesthood, I was drafted into the Army. Sent to Army flight school, I learned to fly helicopters, and in March 1970 I arrived in Vietnam as a Warrant Officer pilot.

Huë Phu Bai Vietnam, summer 1970.

Just as I’d wished, I’d been anointed among an elite group, posted to a foreign land where I met needy people and instead of assisting them in their time of need, I facilitated their hunting and elimination. There was opportunity, however, for my better purpose. During my tour I flew many rescue missions giving more than one GI the chance to go home standing up. I rescued a young Vietnamese woman in labor with a breech baby, helping to save her life*.

After Vietnam I went from job to job looking for a permanent position that allowed me to use my skill as a pilot. I flew a firefighting job in Alaska, then as a corporate pilot in Ohio, and a few temporary flying jobs to build hours in my logbook. in 1983 I was posted to a major hospital in Iowa as an emergency rescue pilot.

AirCare Pilot, Iowa City July 1983

At last, after losing my dream, I’d turned the loss into a gain. Instead of the missionary priesthood I was using skills gained in combat to rescue sick and injured people. Good news? Bad news? My response would be yes to both.

Looking back, the common denominator in every event was my ability to see the events of life for what they were, and to react to them accordingly. I could have petitioned the staff at the seminary to reconsider. In Vietnam I could have transferred to a unit with a lower profile, but I did not. I could have stayed in the role of corporate pilot with better hours, higher pay, and more extended opportunity to advance. In my short time as a corporate pilot I saw the job as a flying limousine service for wealthy business owners, and went looking for something more fulfilling. In fortuitous fashion my corporate flying position was eliminated in an austerity move. Shortly after, I landed a position with a major hospital and began flying sick and injured medical patients. The most gratifying job of my entire career, I was honored to fly there for twenty years, completing 3,200 patient missions.

As stressful and exhausting as it was at times, AirMedical flying held opportunities to serve that I never would have had without ‘serving’ in Vietnam. Getting fired: Good news? Bad news? Perhaps.

Handling reality is not our strong suit in this culture. We complain about this, that, and the other, failing to discern opportunity from challenge. We entertain concepts of what should be, and what will please us. When that doesn’t meet our expectations we suffer. We even try to change what’s already happened! Indeed, we spend much of our short lives trying to order the world the way we believe it should be, ignoring the fact that things happen because they happen. Good news? Bad news? Perhaps.

As an elder pilot conducting safety lectures, I shared this message with aviation colleagues through the years: There are no accidents. We can refer to tragic events as accidents, bemoaning the bad news, and be determined to put an end to them. But for every crash, trauma, negative (and positive) event in life there’s a traceable thread that leads to it. Some clues seem infinitesimal; some are glaringly obvious. If an aircraft crashes because it ran out of fuel, that’s not an accident. Life is like that as well. If we treat our bodies poorly, eat crap food, take chances, smoke cigarettes, drink too much, and lead a sedentary life, and then we have a heart attack at age 45, that’s no accident.

Good-news, bad-news scenarios must be explored, discerned, studied, and often given time to fully develop. Only then can we understand what they offer.

Thanks for reading.