Membership has its privileges

Early in my career as a pilot I began writing for an aviation publication.

My thinking was that a pilot who wrote might be more valuable than a pilot who didn’t. Whether that worth was measured in financial gain, or continued employment, or anything else wasn’t clear to me. I simply reasoned that using the skills I’d acquired in life should be used, not stored away. So, I wrote and I flew, and I was happy.

Because I was publishing my thoughts and experiences in print, I decided it was important that I be completely impartial so I couldn’t be accused of favoring this group or that one. There is enough division in life thanks to politics, economics, and geography. Even in aviation there have been cliques that form around ultralights, or LSAs, or warbirds, or…whatever.

As a result of all this, I spent the first portion of my career as a complete independent. I was completely solo. I didn’t belong to any organization, association, or group that required membership. That decision felt right.

It wasn’t.

Years into my career I was given the opportunity to serve as an aviation editor for Gleim Aviation. You may know them as the producers of the books with bright red covers. I used them as a student pilot. I used them as a CFI. I believed in Dr. Irvin Gleim’s method of teaching and learning. He was a truly brilliant man. Weird, but brilliant.

I mean that in the best possible sense.

It was Dr. Gleim’s perspective that changed my thinking and caused me to come in out of the rain to join a group. He believed in the power of community and the potential of bringing people together in common cause. When he found out I wasn’t affiliated with any aeronautical organization he simply advised, “You should become a member.”

I wonder if his thoughts on the topic were molded at least in part by Helen Keller, a woman who had no involvement with aviation at all but was revered for her determination to become all she could be.

“Alone we can do so little,” according to Helen. “Together we can do so much.”

Those words really resonate with me. After all, Helen Keller’s life was devoted to pushing limits and resisting constraints.

We in aviation are often in a similar position. A minority ruled in large part by a majority that has little understanding of the issues we face or the challenges that befall us. Sometimes unexpectedly. Sometimes unfairly.

It was with the gift of that new perspective I became a joiner. An enthusiastic joiner. I’ve chosen to gather with the group, to do my part in shouldering the load, and to benefit both personally and professionally by enjoying the perks that come with being a member of this assemblage of people or that one.

I had become a member of the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association (AOPA) before I was hired to serve as an ambassador in the highly successful You Can Fly initiative. A decade later I’m still involved as an employee, albeit in a slightly different role. I continue to be a member, too. A status I intend to maintain for the rest of my days.

My commitment is as simple as it is necessary. It comes from long ago history when a guy named Aesop related a story known as the “Four Oxen and the Lion.” The story is about a lion that sees four oxen in a field as potential prey. But the oxen work together to protect each other, keeping the lion at bay. Until the oxen start to quibble and quarrel and drift apart. That gives the lion the opening he needs to pick them off one by one.

The fable concludes with the undeniably accurate line, “United we stand, divided we fall.”

That short, simple sentence is one of the great truths of life. I take it seriously. I wish we all would. The divisions that cause us harm, such as when I was too idealistic or naïve or stubborn to count myself among the larger group of my peers, are too often self-induced.

As American Express so accurately says, membership has its privileges.

Today I hold membership in a variety of aeronautical organizations. I’m proud of that. My involvement, inexpensive and simple as it may be, provides sustenance to the group. The larger the group, the more power it has. The more benefit it can offer its members and society at large. For society would surely be far worse off without aviation being available in every corner of the globe.

I chose to become a lifetime member of the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) for a similar reason. As a pilot I’ve always been drawn to experimental aircraft. I’ve even owned one. As a mechanic I find the idea of building, flying, and maintaining aircraft at the grass-root level to be a stimulating endeavor.

An organization that supports and provides guidance to homebuilders enthralled by the work of Bernie Pietenpol just as enthusiastically as they do the acolytes of Burt Rutan gets my attention and my pledge as well.

Being an avid seaplane enthusiast, I also count myself as a lifetime member of the Seaplane Pilots Association. This organization is far smaller than AOPA or EAA, but it serves many similar functions for a population that enjoys and respects the aquatic niche of the aviation pie.

Type clubs can offer tremendous value, too. I’ve been a member of the Flying Musicians Association, because I’m a musician who flies. I’ve joined forces with the Cessna 150-152 Club, because I owned a C-150 and flew a C-152.

In the end, I’ve decided to be a joiner rather than a standout. The general aviation industry has supported me in so many ways over the years. Some of these organizations were working on my behalf before I even knew they existed. It only seems reasonable that I step up, join up, and help shoulder the load for a time.

Of course there’s always room for one more member. Considering joining me by joining an association that meets your needs. They’re out there. Do it with the comfort of knowing that whichever one you choose to align yourself with, your participation is likely to pay dividends in the future — for all of us.