Around the Patch: Cousin John

John was a World War II veteran who was intensely interested in everyone around him. Although he was not a pilot—he’d been a Seabee during the war—he loved the fact that I was learning to fly. His daughter Michelle had taken flying lessons once upon a time, and his son Ed became a private pilot.

Back in 2000, we drove 12 hours to visit John, who lived in the same suburb of Chicago where he’d raised eight children. Some of those kids were still living in the area, and we made the visit a family reunion of sorts.

We planned a sightseeing trip to Chicago, and someone suggested we stop at Meigs Field, a general aviation airport on Northerly Island close to the heart of downtown. I can’t vouch for the rest of the family, but John and I had the best time watching small airplanes land and take off at one of the most recognizable airports in the world, thanks to the fact that it was the default airport in the hugely popular Microsoft Flight Simulator computer game.

After our visit, John sent me a copy of the flight simulator program that he enjoyed. I wanted him to be proud, and I remember thinking, I’ll land at Meigs someday.

“Someday” never arrived. On March 31, 2003, Chicago Mayor Richard Daley shut down the airport, supposedly to prevent terrorists from having easy access to the city in the wake of September 11, 2001. It’s now a park.

I remember gasping when I saw photos of the runways carved up with X’s next to the bulldozers that prevented based aircraft from departing Meigs once the teardown began. (They eventually were granted special permission to fly out using the airport’s not-yet-destroyed taxiways.) I know John was furious with Daley. Fifteen years on, it still hurts a bit to remember that day.

John is gone now, but we keep in contact with his sons and daughters, and I think of him often. His excitement at my flying progress made me realize how important it is to have people like John in my life—someone who loves flying and is ready to cheer me on at every stage.

I didn’t grow up in general aviation; my parents viewed small airplanes with the kind of suspicion normally reserved for venomous snakes and door-to-door salespeople. Luckily I learned to fly surrounded by people who love aviation, and they are always available for a quick question or a reassurance.

Not everybody has that kind of support. If you are an orphan among your friends and family when it comes to flying, you need to build your aviation support system in other ways. Fortunately, you have many options.

Start at your airport, and seek out the guys who hang out and watch airplanes take off and land. Look up your local Experimental Aircraft Association chapter, your local The Ninety-Nines chapter, or your local Women in Aviation chapter. Join a flying club (some have social dues for nonflying members) and you’ll make all kinds of new friends.

Even the internet can be a surprising source of support. I belong to two Facebook groups of women pilots whose members challenge, support, and cheer on each other every day. In these groups, I can be a sounding board for students’ worries; I can offer words of encouragement or congratulations. Or I can be the one who occasionally needs a lift.

Someone is out there who wants to cheer you on. It might be someone who lives in the same house as you, or someone at your airport, or even someone 12 hours away in the Windy City. I hope you find your support system, and if you have one already, pay it forward when you can.