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| Moist Behind the Ears | Nov '05 |
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| By Cliff Robertson |
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The good thing about flying a good length of time is, number one, you appreciate the fact that in spite of your stupidity you're still flying! You realize that "somebody up there must like you." Why else is a bonehead like me still privileged to fly, not only around the pattern, but across the country legally! Once the dampness behind my ears began to dry, I became a believer! A believer in the wisdom of the FAA, a believer in the legal requirements instituted by that authority based on actual--and too often--sad experience. I began to realize there was nothing unique, special or unusual about Cliff Robertson.
Just because I had survived over 70-odd films (and some have been odd) and God knows how many television shows, as well as plays on Broadway, didn't entitle this adult actor/writer to any special "perks."
The result of all this experience is a gratitude and a humility. When you're still wet behind your lobes, these attitudes do not exist. When still a callow youth, you have it all figured out--all the answers. You have no time for boring platitudes from "old, experienced geezers."
One "old geezer story" I recall happened to a buddy of mine many years ago: Jim Harrington flew in WWII. He flew Spitfires in the Eagle Squadron and stayed in the U.S. Air Force after the war. Jim was a colonel at a U.S. air base that had a new squadron of jet fighters. His office looked down the flight line of these spanking new aircraft.
One day a brash, cocky, very young pilot was cackling in derision at an older pilot doing a very thorough pre-flight check on one of the jets. "Look at that old geezer, would you!" he asked of Jim. "He's been walking around that jet for at least half an hour, now--still hasn't got the nerve to get in and fly it! Must be scared of the airplane!"
Jim--his head buried in paperwork--ignored the brash young pilot. The "old geezer" kept walking around the jet examining everything. "He must be counting rivets," snorted the young lieutenant. "He sure as hell is scared." Finally--later still--the examining pilot got in and took the fighter jet off.
"Well, glory be!" cried the lieutenant. "What do you know? He finally got up enough nerve!" Jim Harrington slowly looked out the window at the departing fighter jet now climbing toward the cumulous clouds, cleared his throat, and slowly addressed the cocky youngster. "Lieutenant, have you learned anything today? "
The young lieutenant shuffled his feet for a moment and answered, "Well, sir, I learned old geezers like that should probably stay home in their rockers."
Jim Harrington asked the young lieutenant, "You know the name of that old geezer, lieutenant?"
"No sir," answered the young pilot.
Jim Harrington pretended to study the flight form on his desk before he answered, "Well, says here that pilot is on an inspection tour--from Washington. Says his name is, uh, C. Lindbergh. Charles A. Lindbergh. Ever heard of him?"
The young officer didn't answer--forgot to salute, so rapid his exit. I suspect the wetness behind his ears started to dry rapidly as well.
Academy Award and Emmy Award winning screen star Cliff Robertson has owned and flown a wide array of aircraft, including a Spitfire MK IX, a Messerschmitt ME-108, a French aerobatic Stampe SV4 biplane, a Grob Astir glider (in which he still holds a distance record) and a Beech Baron 58. A holder of single, multi, instrument and commercial licenses, as well as balloon, the pilot of many thousands of hours has accumulated many aviation awards, including EAA's highest Eagle award and the AOPA Sharples award. Cliff was recently voted and honored as the Veteran of the Year by the American Veteran Association. His columns will appear in his soon-to-be published book.
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