There is a Christmas tree standing in the center of my town. It is festooned with colorful lights, imparting excitement to children and gift-giving decision-making woes to moms and dads and grandparents in every corner of this little burg. I’m guessing you have a similar display and comparable concerns in your town.
There was a time when Christmas gift-giving was a cake walk. The Sears & Roebuck catalog would arrive at the house, later to become simply the Sears catalog. Approximately the size of a small refrigerator, that collection of product photos and descriptions could suffice for even the coldest, least imaginative shopper.
Kids poured over those pages with pen in hand, circling everything that caught their eye. Moms could drop hints about the jewelry or fashion found inside, while dad would make the offhand comment about this Craftsman tool or another. Before long the entire family knew what everyone was dreaming of for Christmas. It was a happy time.
Now, Sears is essentially gone, replaced by online retailers that make the experience of buying so much easier, while making the task of selecting an appropriate gift so much harder. There are literally millions of options to choose from. I’m at a loss.
Thankfully, my kids send me links to webpages that detail the specifics of gifts they’re hoping to wake up to on Christmas morning. That’s helpful, but not ideal. Buying others exactly what they asked for doesn’t strike me as being particularly festive. It removes the whimsy of the holiday. What’s the thrill in getting exactly what you want?
I’d rather discover something I never dreamed of under the tree. Something totally unique. An item that would be mine forever, yet something I could share at the drop of a hat.
I’m more inclined to value an experience over a thing. Because things wear out. They get lost. Oodles of things simply fall out of fashion. Experiences, on the other hand, are forever.
In the strictest sense, we are a collection of our experiences. It is our reaction to and our memories of those experiences that make us who we are. It is a simple truth: Our fellow humans are most fascinating when they share stories of what they’ve done and where they’ve been, not so much when they list the complete compendium of what they own and where they keep it.
Fortunately for us, aviation lends itself to visceral experiences that stick with us for the rest of our days. The gift of flight lifts the soul as much as the it causes the aircraft to levitate. The feel of the stick in our hands, the smell of fuel and oil seeping into the cockpit, the view of Earth from 500 feet, or 3,500 feet, or 35,000 feet enthralls us.
Does anyone ever forget their first solo flight? That momentous first cross-country trek? An encounter with weather, or a flock of birds, or a swirling cluster of fallen leaves we encounter at altitude? Yep, I’ve had those experiences. They happened decades ago and yet they remain fresh in my mind, as thrilling, as curious, and as appealing as they ever were.
Sure, you could go the traditional route and package up a bundle of socks, or electronic gizmos, watches or a necklace for that special someone. That would be fine. The recipient would no doubt be happy.
But would they be impressed? Would their heart leap and their pulse quicken? Will that gift be any more loved and remembered in 10 years than the wrapping paper now crumpled on the floor, waiting to be disposed of and forgotten?
On the other hand, what if your significant other, your child, or your best friend found they’d been gifted with an opportunity to fly? I’m willing to bet that would make an immediate and lasting impact. The anticipation of the day they choose to cash in that gift would extend the impact of the present for days, weeks, or even months. And when the big day finally arrives, whenever that might be, there will be smiles and laughter and joy revisited on them all over again.
I am beyond fortunate to be in a corner of the world where giving the gift of flight is so easy. Thankfully, that’s probably true for you, too.
Why not really live it up? Fly! Fly something you’ve never dreamed you’d have the opportunity to climb into. Make a memory that will last a lifetime.
Just this past weekend, while attending the SUN ‘n FUN Holiday Flying Festival and Car Show in Lakeland, Florida, I ran into my old friend Thom Richard. Thom owns Warbird Adventures, a full-service flight school that sits just a stone’s throw away from the great Disney complex in Kissimmee, Florida.
Thom stood in the grass beside the taxiway, as proud and friendly as ever, surrounded by the aircraft he and his crew haul people skyward in. They employ a Citabria for primary flight training and taildragger flights. The Decathalon tied down next to it is for aerobatic rides. An unmistakable AT-6 used for advanced training and warbird checkouts was on hand, as was the striking TP-40 Warhawk for those who want to get a peek into the realm of a World War II era fighter pilot.
And that’s just at one provider in one town. We’ve also got seaplanes and gliders to choose from, and a market that stretches all the way up to P-51 Mustangs. There’s a logbook worthy entry out there for every price range in every corner of the nation.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve got some decisions to make — not the least of which is how big do I want to go with a Christmas present to myself this year. I’ve been good you know. Very good. That ought to count for something, don’t you think?
I just want to say my grandson was gifted by the opportunity to learn to fly my plane at my expense and may have his private license by the end of this month.
I have told his instructor that if a young adult acting individual comes in with a dream of flying and he feels that they would be of a responsible and motivated character then bring them aboard.
I remember my first flight at age 13 and shortly after high school I received my private pilot rating. I’m still a plain vanilla pilot at age 70, but still in love with piloting. Just want to pass it on as long as I can.