Flying By Faith

Our family has a deep respect for those who sacrifice and serve in the military. We especially love it when we happen upon a World War II Veteran and are able to thank them personally.

We've had a few great opportunities to do this, while checking out at a Costco in Colorado my husband noticed an elderly man wearing a cap stating he served in WWII, he made a bee line for the gentleman before he exited the building to make sure he shook his hand and thanked him.

I recently had a client who won a Purple Heart in World War II and I made sure and brought my daughter to my last meeting with him to make sure she was able to hear his story and meet a real life hero.

Make sure to take time to thank someone who has served or is serving this Memorial Day in honor of those who have sacrificed for our country. This National Holiday always make me think of my Grandpa Jack. I wrote about him previously and he certainly was an entertaining figure, a family legend we all end up talking about with a gleam in our eye.

So here is the finger-biting account of the night it took a community acting together to help save Jack from a perilous disaster.

Jack Koch with his 2 eldest sons, Jim and Bill

Jack seemed to run on his own clock. You would often here the double tap honk of his car horn announcing it was time to go while long goodbyes were dolled out by others. He was a speed demon, peddle to the metal kind of guy, even when others didn't feel the need to rush.

Jack liked the draw of adventure, he grew up rollerskating the hills of Seattle Washington, daring his friends to enter haunted houses, riding Harley Davidson motorcycles and flying airplanes. It seems Jack looked for the fun in life, caution was cast to the wind more than a few times in his lifetime. We all liked to tease that Jack scared his own guardian angels on a regular basis.

One fateful September night in 1949 Jack not only scared his guardian angels, he, and I quote from the newspaper article, "scared the wits out of Osceola" (a small town in Wisconsin).  Jack was enjoying his latest pastime, flying his small prop plane, putting in air time hopping from small town to small town that dotted the countryside. Jack must have forgotten to wind his clock correctly because he miscalculated daylight time and arrived in the town as the sun was setting and the landing strip had no landing lights installed.

How does a pilot get the help he needs when there is no radio contact and he is literally flying by the seat of his pants? Well, Jack was a smart whippersnapper, he had crazy wit at his side not to mention guardian angels that were in dire need of a break when the thought to incessantly buzz the town square where business keepers were locking up for the night may get him the attention he needed.

As miracles often happen, the right people at the right time noticed and heard the low flying distress call  as Jack repeatedly passed back and forth like an annoying fly. Enter good Dr. Simenstad who was also the Secretary of the State Aeronautics Commission and an experienced pilot who knew exactly what his fellow flier needed. He promptly gathered available townsfolk who owned cars and lead them like gang busters to the airport landing strip where he lined them up opposite each other down the strip, told them to flick on their headlights and create their own landing lights.

Needless to say Jack landed with a "sigh of relief"gave his guardian angels a much needed break, thanked God for a community that was alert and ready to act in a critical situation and called it a good day.

Ahh, Grandpa Jack, you've been gone for some time now, but you are a legend that still lives in our families' heart!

Jock Koch's Memory of Service in the Armed Forces

1949 Newspaper Article by: Linda Jensen Gordon

Synopsis No More

Thinking seems to be disjointed in this day and age of industrialism, technology inspired- consumer oriented, go-go paced lifestyle. It's a world of people wearing many hats. These hats are usually displayed with pride and one defines their life by them. We tend to see people by the hat they like showing the most. In our categorized system of dealing with life, we tend to leave out the space needed for nuances. How do we define our closest friends or loved ones to others? We usually start off by telling the unknowing soul about their work status, sometimes but not always followed by their domestic status. Does anyone else in this wide world see a problem with this?

Rene Magritte; Self Portrait, Son of Man
Also known as Faceless Business Man in a Bowler Hat

Why do we allow ourselves to be defined by these industrial terms, display ourselves as a marketed product with images to be sold for acceptance? When did human virtues, character and quality take a back seat to these definitions? Shouldn't it be the other way around?

I hear people describe themselves all to often like a synopsis for a movie. "Hi, my name is Joe, I work for Dell as a computer analyst and I enjoy riding bicycles." The only information I gleaned from this is what Joe likes to do, not the why or where the inspiration comes from for his life decisions or why these experiences shape Joe into who he is. This quick definition is good for resumes and that's about it, so why do people seem to heavily rely on this 'pat and dry' method in relationships? Come on Joe, I know you're not as boring as you made yourself sound, will the real Joe please step forward? Maybe Joe doesn't even know who that is?

This type of interaction is all too common in our society. Stop and think about it, how many people do you really know? I don't mean the amount of people, such as how many friends on Facebook you've accumulated, I don't mean what they do for most of their time during the day but what makes up their passions for doing what they do. This usually involves multi-dimensional experiences that have meaning and usually involves one or more other individuals. There are stories to be told here. Are we that disinterested in others or so self preoccupied the norm is to readily accept the edit and cut-out short answer a person gives as a new term for relationship? Not only that, are we so pounded and conformed into functional cogs in the wheel we ourselves don't even know how to articulate who we are to others?

I find myself caught in this crazy thinking web and like an insect struggling to free myself from this entanglement it seems to take all the energy I have to cut free. The impending doom of this unnatural relational cycle grates at the very gut of my being. We are not put on this earth to pass each other on the road with little signs stating a few words that supposedly describe your entire being, say nice to know you and keep going on our way. We need to stop, look at these pathetic signs, look the traveler in the eye and say, I've read your synopsis, but now lets sit down on the by way for a foot rest and tell me who you really are and not be afraid to tell the story. (and I want the good, the bad the ugly, it all mixes to make us who we are).

There is accountability, responsibility, community in this act of quiet listening and telling of personal stories. It makes us human, in fact, I believe it makes us want to be the best we can be. It is looking at a person in the flesh but seeing character, passion, emotion; the make-up of a soul, the true person.

The hardest part is this act takes vulnerability and the chance of running into someone along the path who is still pre-occupied with self interests and doesn't understand the art of relationship. This shouldn't stop us from trying to see people for who they really are, these bumps give us opportunity to forgive, to teach, to be an example.

I've recently experienced a little more depth in a relationship because the individual stepped outside their comfort zone and started to tell more of their story. It has been WONDERFUL for me.

If you take anything from this post, please take this: Talking about your story to those you trust is like rain in the desert. It is not selfish or prideful but a sharing and giving that is unique and can only come from you.

Note:
These thoughts are inspired by the recent reading of "The Art of the Commonplace, Agrarian Essays of Wendell Berry."

Where have you been all my life Wendell?

Mother's Day

Well, another marketed Holiday is upon us and I am not prepared, per my usual Holiday habit. I really don't like these regulated, consumer oriented, go out and buy things because it's on a calendar celebrations. Although, I will admit, this upcoming one makes me want to milk it a little.  So I will, in the form of a slightly peevish poem (to come later) but first, I want to turn my thoughts from the marketing aspect and focus on the real important stuff, the people and why we celebrate Mother's Day.

Mom, Mother, Mum, Mommy. These are some of the endearments we use to beckon the one with whom we are timelessly attached too our entire lives.  We come up with variations in our endearments that have meaning and depth. I teasingly call my Mom, 'Mudder'. It's a fun story on how we decided to call her by her 'Mom' nickname. It involves family story telling and a piece of a cake but that is another story for another blog post.

The picture posted is of my beautiful Mom, but oh, she is so much more than her apparent good looks. This woman is multi-dimensional and a ton o' fun packed into her 5' 4" frame. There is never a dull moment when in the presence of 'Susie-Q' Debee. Growing up with her always had a laugh or an adventure twist that made for some wonderful memories.

Highschool Graduation Photo: Susie Koch

I dedicate the following true words about Mothers Day to this iconic woman who keeps on her toes, works whirls around the young folk, still brings home the bacon, fries it up too, jumps out of airplanes for the hell of it and whose firecracker wit is all her own. I just have to stop, stare at her picture and the thought spills out of me, "What a WOMAN!" 

Mother's Day

If you have a child, every day is Mother's Day

You don't ever get a break

It is the real, full time job, twenty-four-seven reality

and it's not always a piece of cake.

It takes a strong willed woman

to take the challenge in stride

this job isn't for pansies, the weak or unqualified.

Too many dreamers step up to this role

uneducated about its' requirements

they find themselves enrolled in boot camp

that reorganizes their sentiment.

Every woman should know the truth,

the required self sacrifice

Honest details discussed between

Mother and Daughter should suffice.

If oral history is passed down and

potential Mothers are in the know

when blessing happen in their life

they'll be prepared and ready to go.

It's proven if you work hard and 

apply the lessons you have gleaned

the rewards keep multiplying in ways

you couldn't have dreamed.

The day in May to honor Mom

is great for showing your heart

so pamper, spoil and hug them

it's a good place to start.

Don't forget to tell them that you love them

the other three hundred and sixty- four days

It will only cause Mom to beam with pride

at the sound of her child's praise.

Chandra Brown

OH YA, My Mom's THE WOMAN!