Whenever something awful happens—a natural disaster or act of terror—there is a tendency to feel demoralized about our world, about the way human lives can be swept away in an instant by a weather system or malicious act of violence.
But, invariably, after the sensational news stories have died down, a different kind of story emerges. Call it the silver lining, call it grace, call it the power of human goodness having the last word—I always have to remind myself to wait for it. In the aftermath of some of our darkest times, people show up to help each other in beautiful and inspiring ways. It’s the volunteer food drive in the wake of a hurricane, or a Charleston, South Carolina, bridge filled with people of different races linked arm in arm after a hateful act that threatened to make us lose our faith.
In aviation, we have our own version of heroism, when people in the aviation community show up for each other—in big and small ways, in ways that remind us we are not alone. I experienced this kindness personally one rainy night several years ago. I had taken off from the Olive Branch, Mississippi, airport earlier in the day for a long cross-country with a student. The plan was to fly three hours south to Destin, Florida, for a late lunch. But by the time we tried to get back home, thunderstorms were blocking our route. We ended up landing at Pontotoc County Airport (22M) to wait for the storms to pass. Pontotoc, Mississippi, is not the sort of place where an FBO stays open past 5 p.m. It is, however, the sort of place where people are friendly and, luckily for us, willing to help a stranger.
In aviation, we have our own version of heroism, when people in the aviation community show up for each other—in big and small ways.As we taxied in, a truck pulled up beside us on the ramp. The driver, Aubie Pearman, had been hosting his child’s birthday party when he looked out his living room window and saw an unfamiliar airplane land. He didn’t know who we were, but he knew someone might need help, so he hopped in his truck and drove over. Ten minutes later, my student and I were being served a slice of Big Bird birthday cake by Aubie’s wife. They fed us and kept us dry, then drove us back to the airport when the storm passed and it was safe to go home. It may seem a small thing, but a family invited two strangers into their home that night. It’s an act of kindness I have never forgotten.
I was giving a checkride recently and heard another story similar to mine. My checkride applicant, Jack Householder, had been flying a rented Cessna 172 when one of the engine’s cylinders failed—night, IMC, you get the idea. Scary stuff. His engine limped along, making reduced power as he steadily lost about 400 feet per minute. Jack immediately called ATC and requested vectors to the nearest airport. With the help of that controller, he was able to break out of the clouds with enough time to make a safe approach and landing.
Taxiing to the ramp, in the dark, with light rain spattering his windshield, Jack was grateful to be safe but dreading the prospect of a cold night spent in his airplane at a rural airport that was already closed. If he were a local, he could have called someone for help. But Jack had traveled up from Florida, so family and friends were several hours away. Minutes later, the airport manager came riding up in his car, saying he heard someone might need some help. He had received a phone call from a worried air traffic controller. That controller didn’t have to make the call, and that airport manager didn’t have to leave the comfort of his home on a cold, rainy night—but they did.
I suspect stories like mine and Jack’s are not that rare. They will never make the nightly news, but I think these are the kinds of stories we need to hear more often. Everyday heroes walk among us. No matter what community you call home, whether New York City, the aviation community, or a group of Little League parents, let’s keep an eye out for a chance to show up for someone on their bad days; for a chance to show someone that people care, for a chance to be a part of the silver lining.