The Three Ps: Preside, Provide, Protect

I have been thinking recently about my current situation in life- my wife still loves me- and vice-versa, my children are grown, my career is on a fairly fixed trajectory, and I have accomplished enough to garner a gray hair or two. When a man reaches this stage it is time to start giving back- not in the compulsory, Obamanian sense, but maybe by passing some wisdom on to those who are entering the valley that I have been passing through for the past few decades. If I were to be starting this journey of manhood again I would pay more attention to three key tasks that fathers have a duty to perform. I call them the Three P's: Preside, Provide, Protect.

Fathers have a responsibility to preside in their homes. While this doen't mean that one should be a dictator or petty tyrant exercising unrighteous dominion, it does mean to lead. To preside is to take the lead in spiritual things- to be the lead in family devotion and worship. It also means to counsel with and take counsel from members of the family, especially from your wife. It also means to correct-sometimes with sharpness or exactness- behavior, afterwards showing an increase inlove to the person corrected.

Fathers have a duty to provide. This can be thought of in two contexts- first, to provide materially for the needs of their family: shelter, clothing, food, necessary transportation. Yes guys, this means you have to work...hard. It is also nice to provide some creature comforts or maybe some fancy things to brighten the day, but here is where wisdom has a play in ensuring that needs aren't overlooked while providing for some desired, but optional wants. Secondly, fathers are to provide an environment which is conducive to light and learning. This context is closely related to a father's duty to preside since in a home where a righteous priesthood holder is presiding most often are found the characteristics outlined in Doctrine & Covenants 109:8 to provide (establish) a house of prayer, learning, glory, order, and a place where God's spirit can be felt.

Fathers have a duty to protect. That protection is both spiritual and physical. I know of men who would willingly shed their blood to defend their home against a physical intruder bent on mayhem who casually bring spiritually destructive materials into their homes that can wreak a form of havoc that can cause injury of an eternal nature. While the most extreme examples of providing physical protection easily come to mind, this duty to protect extends to simple things as well- taking out the garbage when the weather is bad; carrying objects that might be awkward to handle; helping with tasks that may fall outside of our routine sphere of concern.

I think we all can take it up a notch or two- it is something that is sorely needed. As we attend to our duties to preside, provide, and protect, our homes will truely become safe havens. I am going to work harder on this...how about you?

The Next First Flight

As I have been pursuing my flight training goals I have been thinking about how to best utilize this skill for the benefit of others. While I have been in aviation for nearly all of my adult life, I am a relative new-comer to being the pilot-in-command...and having to shell out cash to pay to go into the sky. I have thought about some of the great, charitable organizations that use flight to serve others. One such group immediately caught my attention- the Veteran's Airlift Command (http://www.veteransairlift.org/) who are aircraft owners that donate the use of their aircraft to help move our wounded vets around to their medical appointments. Seemed like a good fit, considering my last active-duty Air Force assignment at USTRANSCOM where I oversaw the DOD Global Patient Movement System. Small hitch, though- you have to be instrument rated and own your own multi-engine or high-performance aircraft. Another group that caught my eye is the Corporate Angel Network (http://www.corpangelnetwork.org/) that uses corporate aircraft to move needy pediatric cancer patients to specialty care using corporate aircraft...wait- I don't have either a corporation or a jet.

Consequently, I have had to think smaller- no small task for someone who is used to thinking big due to the curse of a vivid imagination. In the course of this journey of discovery, I again stumbled across the Civil Air Patrol (http://www.gocivilairpatrol.com/). I had been first introduced to the Civil Air Patrol (CAP) while in the Air Force- there was a lecture in Air War College that dealt with this civilian auxiliary of the US Air Force, and there was a CAP Cadet Squadron that had a building down the road from the Aero Club at Scott AFB in Illinois where I got my pilot license. Being a card-carrying, real-live Zoomie, my preconception of the CAP was that of a group of grey-haired private pilots who were playing airman on the weekends wearing uniforms similar enough to those of the USAF to "look" like part of the team, but different enough to not be too threatening to our polished, professional image. Well, here I am- a grey-haired private pilot...perfect!

So, after pondering options for a while I joined up. There is a curious cultural blend of USAF mission and safety focus laced with civilian laissez-faire. Sometimes dealing with the CAP for me is sort of like having a Mormon attend an RLDS Sacrament Meeting- hauntingly faint similarities but definitely different. All in all, though, good-hearted people who share my interest in flying...and flying well. The CAP owns the largest fleet of Cessna aircraft in the world.

The CAP is very serious about flight safety- which is a very good thing. As a result, there are layers upon payers of administrative checks to ensure that a person is current and qualified to fly their aircraft. After three months of searching for the magic decoder ring, I was finally able to penetrate the administrative Byzantium and get linked up with Gil Williams, who is a check pilot for the Utah CAP Wing. Since I don't currently have a high-perfomance aircraft endorsement in my logbook, I have to complete 10 hours of orientation flying with Gil before I am allowed to take the checkride (flight skills test).

Yesterday was my first flight in a CAP aircraft: a Cessna 182 Turbo N4872H. I got a quick education about flying a turbocharged aircraft. We taxied out to RWY 35 at Salt Lake International with the engine softly purring. When we were given takeoff clearance, we taxied into position and went through the normal, few last minute checks before starting our takeoff roll. Gil said, "OK, open the throttle about 3/4 of the way and rotate at 50 knots." I thought that a bit strange because every other aircraft that I have ever flown- Cessna 172, Diamond Katana, Piper Arrow,and even the T-37 in the Air Force- all have you add full throttle for takeoff. I set 3/4 power and released the brakes and divided my attention between the airspeed indicator and keeping the aircraft on the centerline of the runway. After about three or four seconds I could hear the turbocharger spooling up; the engine changed from a gentle purr to a throaty roar (well, throaty at least for a small aircraft...not quite like the F-16). I glanced at the airspeed indicator to see the needle passing 70 knots- and glanced over at Gil who just smiled and said, "Rotate." We jumped into the air about a third of the way down the runway; about halfway down the runway we had already climbed nearly 500 feet. Wow! Now I get it about "high performance."

We flew across the approach end of the two other runways at KSLC- I had a Delta 757 pass right under me about 750 feet below as it was landing on RWY 34R. Great ringside seat to watch the ballet at the "big airport." We flew west following I-80 to a training area over the Great Salt Lake where I flew a couple of steep turns, some Dutch Rolls, and climbing/descending turns. In no time we had to return to KSLC since I had some other appointments later in the day. We did a strange pattern entry by crossing the runways perpendicularly at 6000 feet, then a tight turning descent to landing- I even did a bit of a forward slip to get the plane on the ground in the landing zone. This is a sweet airplane...I think I am going to like this!

Listening

The other evening while at work, I was having a typical Friday night- a veritable symphony of chaos. The clinic waiting room was packed, I was tired, and we were running behind. I went into one of the exam rooms to find an older gentleman who came in because his arm was a little swollen and was tender- "Not too bad," he said. He had surgery about a week before and had an IV placed in his left arm a little above the wrist, and it began bothering him a few days before coming to see me. That night, he went to the emergency room to have it checked; they said that he had superficial phlebitis in the area, placed him on ibuprofen, and sent him home to follow up with his surgeon if it didn't get better in a couple of days. On Friday, he called the surgeon's office, but no one was in so he came to InstaCare since his arm was still sore.

I must admit- his exam was pretty unremarkable. His arm was a little swollen, but it wasn't very tender, and his vital signs were normal...pretty routine. I was thinking of changing his medications to a different anti-inflammatory, but felt a distinct impression that I should send him over to the hospital to get an ultrasound of his arm. He really didn't meeet the criteria for an ultrasound but the impression got even stronger. So, I made the arrangements for the exam, sent him over, and went on to the next patient.

About 45 minutes later, I got a call from the ultrasound tech- the guy had a clot in the vein in his arm that extended from a spot about six inches above his wrist all the way around through the plumbing to the superior vena cava. This was a huge clot- and a very dangerous one, because if it broke free it would go to his lungs resulting in a pulmonary embolism which in his case would probably be fatal. I quickly made arrangements for him to be admitted to the hospital. Fortunately, the in-patient therapy worked, and he went home a few days later.

Now, I don't tell this story to brag on myself or tout my prowess as a diagnostician. Far from it- I was about one or two minutes from sending this guy home. The take-home lesson here is to pay attention to spiritual promptings as they come, and then to follow them.

In 1 Kings 19 we read about Elijah, who was living in a cave at a certain point in his ministry and was visited by the Lord. As the Lord passed by, there was a great wind follwed by an earthquake; the earthquake was followed by a fire. The Lord wasn't in the great wind, the earthquake, or the fire, because after these things happened there came a still small voice- the voice of the Lord.

We live very noisy, busy lives. Sometimes we so surround ourselves with technologies that serve to isolate and distract such that we can't hear the promptings that come. Sometimes our behavior causes static so that we can't tune in and feel the impressions that a loving Heavenly Father is sending our way. I know it happens to me often- I get caught up in the process at work, the hectic flow of the day, the distractions that I choose to give attention to, and fail to listen and feel the guidance that I really need each day to help me.

I am going to do a better job at this. How about you?

Why I Fly, Part II

Today was a great day- clear skies, not a cloud to be seen, and calm. The temperature was in the high 30's, so no convective turbulence was in the area. You couldn't ask for a more perfect day to go flying. Margie and I had the plane scheduled for about 1.5 hours so there wasn't a bunch of rushing about- or pressure to be back on the ground by a certain time. After a quick- but thorough- preflight inspection to ensure that our motorized pegasus was fit to fly, we took off from runway 30 at Spanish Fork, Utah. We made a climbing left turn to the southwest, passed through a slight hazy inversion level, and climbed into a clear robin's egg blue sky.

Once we leveled off at 8,500 feet we joined Victor 21- an air highway in the sky- for some navigation practice. We got snow two days ago, so all of the north-facing mountain slopes were an opalescent white. Above us were airliners passing overhead flying towards Salt Lake; below were a few planes from Utah Valley University where student pilots were practicing flight maneuvers readying themselves for upcoming checkrides- but, at our altitude not another aircraft in sight.

Ahhh...and what sights to behold from our perch in the sky: the reflection of the mountains on the surface of Utah Lake, Mt. Timpanogos and Mt. Nebo rising as twins in protective majesty to the east and south, the Salt Lake Vally with its many temples clearly to be seen towards the north, and the desert stretching off to the west. There were many farms to be seen beginning their hibernation for the cold months ahead, their clustered irrigaition circles looking like dart boards on the valley floor. At one point we passed a flock of Canadian Geese headed south for warmer climes at our altitude; they kept a respectful distance since they could hear us coming and veered off to one side.

On days like these, one feeels a sense of euphoria and gratitude while at the controls of an aircraft. Euphoria to be above the ground in another sphere where one is free of the usual constraints found while terrestrially bound. Gratitude for the world that we live on- seeing God's creation from above reveals His handiwork in detail. When flying, I feel a kinship to the pilot-poet John Gillespie Magee who penned "High Flight" while serving with the Royal Canadian Air Force during the early days of WW II.

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor even eagle flew—
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God

Why I Fly

Part One

Many people ask me, “Jim, why do you fly? Why don’t you do something normal for a hobby?” Good questions indeed; the answer to these interrogatories probably speaks much about my personality and some of the childhood dreams and fantasies that I had when I was much younger. Fasten your seatbelts and turn off your cell phones- we are ready for departure.

When I was about five years old, I often watched movies on TV with my father. The TV was one of those Philco jobs with a about a twelve-inch screen; everything was black and white in those days so a degree of imagination was required to translate shades of gray into color. My Dad was a worrier, and often stayed up late to either read or watch TV to take his mind off of the cares of his day. One channel in Los Angeles played movies about World War II after nine o’clock, and my Dad would often watch various and sundry movies about this important chapter in his life. Once in a while- if I was really careful in sneaking down the hall past my parent’s room where my mom was sleeping- Dad would let me sit with him while he watched one of the documentaries or a contemporaneous Hollywood production. Sometimes I would fall asleep in the chair next to him; other times, I would watch the movie all the way through.

One movie that I watched all the way through was entitled “Mary Ann” and was about flying. The story dealt with a bomber crew in the early days of the Pacific Campaign that flew their B-17 from the US out to Hawaii, then across the Pacific Ocean to the island war in the South West Pacific Area. As a result, I was probably the only kid in my kindergarten class who knew where New Guinea was- let alone have some insight into what went on there about 20 years before.

As a result of watching this movie- and others like “Twelve O’Clock High”- I spent many hours up in the top of a tall ash tree that was in the front yard of the house in La Canada that we lived in at the time. When I was in that tree, I could see across the valley to the hills in Glendale, and could see the airplanes climbing out of the LA Basin heading east. All these things were conflated in my imagination into a great flight in a B-17 on my way to adventure and danger at the controls of my plane. Playmates- like Tommy Beebee, who lived on the next street- became crewmembers in my flying ash tree/B-17, but I always had the left seat- I was always the pilot. Sometimes when playing/flying alone, I was in a P-51 roaming the skies looking for the bad guys. But always I was the pilot, and I was flying somewhere. I loved being high in that tree, because I could see things far away and felt closer to the sky than while on the ground.

Sometimes, when I would be sitting in an enforced silence during a church meeting, I would imagine myself flying. I would sit in the La Canada Ward chapel- with its arch truss beamed ceiling- and imagine that I was in a very small plane weaving in and out of the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling; or threading between imaginary clouds represented by the trusses above me while flying to a distant place. There are times when I still do this while someone at the podium is struggling to speak what is in the heart- I am cleared off to flight block three zero zero to three four zero to roam the skies looking for adventure. Marnie can usually tell by the look on my face that I am off in the clouds somewhere in my mind; generally a gentle poke in the ribs gets me back into the hangar in short order. But it doesn't take much for me to slip out, pull the wheel chocks and taxi off in my mind on another adventure.

Traffic Pattern: Rules of the Blog

OK...so here goes. I plan to write various musings about the things I see from day to day, and will draw some comparisons to lessons that I have learned over the years while serving as a Latter Day Saint missionary in Australia, a firefighter in California, a physician, and a military officer all over the world...ok, except for Antarctica. I plan to write these things from time-to-time to share some ideas and ventilate my mind, but mostly I write to show how those who come behind me can be wiser than I have been over the years.

So, here are the flight rules for this blog:

1. The guy in the left seat- that's me- calls the shots as to what goes in this blog. I will consider input but the final say belongs to the guy at the controls.

2. That said, everyone has a say- if you think I am off base or have been loose with matters of fact, say so.

3. Respect for other's points of view is paramount. Even if the idea sounds like it comes from some pencil-necked, weak-wristed, ignorant, elitist, eastern-educated, celebutard left coast liberal it might have merit. I said might have merit...

4. All flying stories are to be discounted by 50%. The value is in the telling...not the precision.

I plan to write about all sorts of topics because I either have a wide range of interests or seriously need strong medication for pervasive ADD. Generally my best writing comes in the mornings because that is when I seem to be at my peak mental performance. Also, I practice medicine best in the mornings- it is a very bad idea to come to my clinic five minutes before closing after I have been slugging it out all day- would you buy a car made on a Friday afternoon? I thought not. Usually it is a bad idea to have your chronic back pain that you've had for a year cared for by a guy who is in a hurry to get home. That piece of medical advice is a freebie...there might be more in the offing.