Memories,
Puzzles, and Christmas Past.
To dad
12/19/06
Your note arrives at 4:25pm on a clear and sunny Tuesday
afternoon. Looking out of the large
window in the front, I spy a red cardinal on the ground near my bird
feeder. He has leapt up to the tray and
looks at what's around while pecking at seed.
It is a nice way to tie my current life in a new area with memories of
your bird feeding. I think that
grandmother Greene would be pleased. She
always liked red cardinals.
Monday evening was the beginning of a busy cargo week for the
industry. A website notice from Fed Ex
said to expect a very busy Monday. That
said, there was about half a load out of
I join with the host of support people who make this happen. Fed Ex runs a great operation and loading is
accomplished simply, smoothly, and quickly.
My preflight inspection of the wings and tail detects a frost
presence. Checking the weather report
on the automated terminal system, I note the temperature is -1 C. Just degrees below
freezing but enough to make a different between clean surfaces and frost. Returning to the cargo office I mention it
to the cargo supervisor. He stops his
paperwork, turns and makes a short radio call, "First feeder needs
de-icing.", and
then returns to his tasks. Simple, efficient, and effective.
Loading is complete and so too are my preparations. The de-ice truck is ready. I've spoken with the de-ice agents and
defined the areas to be sprayed. A blast of 180 degree temperature de-ice fluid
is applied to the upper wings and elevator.
The truck completes the spray and moves off. I open the cockpit and climb out to perform
the company required pre-takeoff inspection.
Feeling the wing area about two feet behind the leading edge, I confirm
a clean surface. We are good to go.
In a few minutes the engine is started, brakes are released, and
the taxi begins. A short taxi route and
completed checklists takes three more minutes.
Take off clearance is received and shortly afterwards the plane is
airborne. Another clear and calm night
greets cargo pilots. A light tailwind
pushes the planes southward and in an hour the plane comes to a stop in
Cargo workers gather to unload.
The maintenance staff arrives and quickly helps secure the plane, tying
down wings and chocking wheels. I ease
my way into the shuttle van and arrive at the feeder break offices a few
minutes away. Calling the company flight
following and the flight concludes.
Mondays are long days for cargo pilots. You begin by waking up on a daytime
schedule. By the end of the 24 hours you
have cycled into nights. A check of the
clock and you realize how long you are awake.
Ideas come of ambling off to the quiet lounge and a few hours in a dark
room with reclining chairs. The carol,
"Silent Night" comes to mind.
But before I can make my way there, my co-worker John gets my
attention. He flies twin engine ATRs on a run from
But I have managed to break through the silence last week to get
his attention. He wears a Turkish
puzzle ring on one finger. I asked him
about it, recalling my own childhood ring from the early 1960s, a gift from a friend of mom and dad. John declares, "It's welded shut!". Then he
continues, admitting the he doesn't know how to put it together. He concludes by saying that he has a few more
at home but they are also apart. He
sounds discouraged.
My next comment will bring a revelation to John. "I know how to do that.", I mention.
Then I wander off to rest. But I
know that I have his attention.
The next time I see him we bring up the subject. He claims to have forgotten the puzzle
ring. I reply, "Bring it the next
time.". A
meeting a few days later on Friday brings a sudden surprise. We meet in the shuttle van and he quickly
whips on the ring and hands it to me. It
is a simple gesture, as though we were exchanging company paperwork, or some
aviation technical knowledge. Not a word
is uttered between us. I slip the ring
safely into a pocket and nothing more is said.
Arriving at the feeder break room and completing flight closeouts,
I now have time to address personal business.
I get ready for a rest, beginning with a stop at the washroom. Washing hands, removing contact lenses, and
returning to the hall, I'm ready for the next challenge. Will I remember the puzzle rings mystery, a
solution last applied some 37 years before?
Time will tell.
Easing into the recliner chair, I am pleased to be the only on in
the room. There are six chairs but only
three pilots use them. Tonight I'm the
only one, for now.
Analyzing the puzzle ring brings back memories. The childhood gift was secured by string,
keeping the four bands together. The
gift spent most of the early years in a box in a dresser drawer. It was only when I when entered the 8th grade
that I took an interest in wearing it.
Sitting in the band room in the clarinet section, I had met Kathy Hahn,
a girl one grade above. She too played
the clarinet. We didn't have much in
common for classes or friends. I thought
she was pretty, her long dark brown hair, smiling eyes, and artistic character
firmed in my memories. She had a
boyfriend, a guy from her class and he played electric guitar in a band. Kathy and I would share a music stand and
some conversation but our lives moved in different circles during our year
together. But that would change and
bring about a lifetime memory.
One day my prize puzzle ring became undone. The string, which had held it together had worn.
The four bands became separated one day while I was examining the ring
and trying to determine its puzzle. The
moment that it separated was alarming. I
wanted it back together, it's wholeness, the intact
memory of a gift from a longtime acquaintance of my parents. All this was now changed.
Trying to get the ring back together would become a driving
force. One day I was in the band room
and my music stand partner Kathy noticed the ring. She declared, "I can put it together for
you." I was thunderstruck. Here was the answer to my dilemma. The unexpected source formed the beginnings
of a new bridge between us.
"How can you do this?", I must
have asked. Her reply was to give it to
her and she would return it in a day.
The cost of the service would be $1.00.
This was in 1968.
True to her word, Kathy returned the next day with the puzzle ring
intact. It's
restored shape brought great elation to me.
I gave the $1.00 to Kathy and was very pleased to have this ring back
intact. The childhood memories of a gift
continued. What was received, then broken, was now made whole.
Time passed and the puzzle ring incurred a few more disassemblings. I
would again approach my music stand partner Kathy and plead for her help. She provided a remedy, each time for the cost
of $1.00. It was a significant amount
of money for me as an 8th grader at that time, but one which affordable. The returned intact ring meant a lot.
One day a new event occurred which would change my life, the ring,
and my relationship with my classmate Kathy.
I had a paper route and was required to collect money from the
residential customers. One customer, a
photographer, asked me to collect from the office. The photography office was located close to
the school and easy to access once a month.
Payment was received from a staff member. One day I came collecting and met Jim, the assistant
photographer. Him was in his early 40s
but was approachable, or so it seemed to me as a young person. I enjoyed talking with him about
photography. He noticed I was wearing a
puzzle ring. "May I see it?", he asked.
Carefully I removed the ring and trustingly handed to this
adult. I incurred several repair
services from my classmate Kathy and was getting a bit weary of paying $1 each
time. Still, what other choice did I
have?
Jim took the ring and then shook it apart and tossed it on the
table. I was horrified! How could this trusted adult suddenly take my
prize possession and cast it into disarray.
I stood there aghast.
But Jim soon proved to be the trusting adult that I perceived him
to be. He continued, "I can get
this back together.". True to his word he worked the ring's puzzle
and before my eyes, he put it back together.
Then Jim did a most wonderful thing that a person can do. He shared his knowledge, patiently guiding me
through the process. I made a few
awkward attempts on my own but mastered the puzzle before I had to leave. I thanked Jim profusely, not just for the
knowledge, but also for the lesson.
This new knowledge would change my relationship with my music stand
classmate. At our next class meeting I
declared, "I know how to do the puzzle ring!". Such a statement was received, but it also
meant that our relationship would forever change. I don't recall having many more conversations
with her. So it goes in the years of
junior high. Kathy moved on to the next
building with her class graduation. She
may have continued in the highschool band but I don't
recall, nor do I recall having many more conversations with her.
Still, I would be always grateful for the times Kathy helped
me. This memory would awaken nearly 35
years later when I was visiting my hometown and reading the newspaper. The obituary section listed her father's
death. A service was planned for a few
days away. I would be in town and
pondered a way to reach out to her from all the years. Kathy was now living in
Now I am in the breakroom. My co-worker's puzzle ring in hand. He has a
problem and I have a solution. Twenty
minutes pass and the ring is returned to it's shape,
all pieces intact. My co-worker is out
in the hall. I rise from the reclining
chair, pleased with the completed task and recalled memories. Then I shuffle off to the computer terminal
where John stands. Quietly placing the
ring on the counter I utter, "I now pronounced you man and wife.". Then I turn
and walk back to the welcome solitude of the quiet room. John's reply is, "But how am I going to
get it back together?!" My soft
reply is, "I'm going to sleep now."
A day later and John and I meet again in the break room. With deftness and determination he places a
disassembled ring on the table. No words
are exchanged. Then while I am examining
the ring I hear more shuffling and suddenly a $1.00 bill is on the table. I'd shared my story with John before. Now John says, "That's for showing me
how to put it together.", regarding the $1
bill. I reply, "You're not Kathy,
and I'm not in junior high anymore.". I take the disassembled ring and amble off to
the quiet room.
Returning a very short time later, I place the assembled ring on
the counter next to John and declare., "It took
me 20 minutes the last time. This time
it took 60 seconds.".
John seems content to have his ring back, but I know what he really
wants is the solution. John is quiet, as
are many pilots. He will have to wait a
little longer. Meanwhile, I'm hoping he
might try to figure it out on his own.
I return to the quiet room and nap for two hours. It's been a long Monday.
Waking up a few hours later, I begin preparing for the flight. While leaving for the van shuttle I spy John,
now with a phone receiver to his ear. I
need to add one more thing to my time with him.
"Christmas is coming. See me
on Thursday.", I declare.
John will have his solution in time for Christmas. My gift to him. A memory from my childhood. One of a friendship with a
classmate, of trusting an adult and receiving knowledge, of sharing and giving. It is Christmas.
For
to us a child is born,
to us a son is
given;
and the government
will be upon his shoulder,
and his name will be
called
"Wonderful
Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting
Father, Prince of Peace."
Isaiah
9:6
Scott