There was a time when Joe Willie Namath was celebrated as the greatest football quarterback in the land. Having just won Super Bowl III where his Jets bested his hero Johnny Unitas’ Colts, Namath became the much ballyhooed Broadway Joe. A celebrity unlike any before him.
At the age of 25, Joe was an icon. Nine years later at the ripe old age of 34 his diamond studded path to football glory came to an end.
Life moves fast sometimes. Hold on tight.
While Namath’s talent was undeniable, there’s nothing terribly unique or special about his progression through the industry he chose to focus on. Sports figures tend to have relatively brief careers. Joe logged an impressive 13 years as a pro ball player. Bo Jackson, on the other hand, only got four years in the spotlight. One of the best-known multi-sport athletes on the scene, his brilliant potential was cut short by an injury.
Years of wear and tear caught up with Joe Willie, too. As it does for all of us. Whether we play football, sell insurance, or fly aircraft, the day will come when it’s time for us to leave the field. To hang up our cleats, or spreadsheets, or googles.
It’s time.
I’ve been flying since the late 1980s and I’ve loved every bit of it. There have been times in my life when I honestly couldn’t figure out why anyone would pass up on the opportunity to become a pilot. The elation of lifting off the runway and climbing to altitude where the world was laid out before me as a green and brown blanket of wonder just never got old. Not for me anyway.
What started out as a simple desire to learn to fly so I could get in and out of New York City more expeditiously became a lifelong obsession with all things aeronautical. I’ve covered a lot of ground from the pilot’s seat of an airplane. Thank goodness I got that chance.
Single-engine piloting gave way to multi-engine machines. Landplanes led me to seaplanes. Tricycle gear airplanes gave me the itch to fly taildraggers. Amphibians made my heart sing.
As a CFI I’ve had the pleasure of giving an untold number of people their first experience at the controls of an airplane. I’ve even had a celebrity or two in the cockpit with me.
Of course, I’ve had a few moments of real concern in the air, but they were always overshadowed by the liberation I felt on thousands of flights that went flawlessly. Or uneventfully, at least.
I wouldn’t have missed the ups and downs and challenges and joys aviation has given me for anything. I suspect the industry has a few more surprises up its sleeve for me in the future. But they will not be found in the cockpit. That part of my career has come to an end.
I have no regrets. Some sadness, yes. I can’t deny that. Who wouldn’t feel a pang of sorrow when a door closes?
After all those years at the controls of various machines being held aloft by invisible forces and guided over the countryside by various means, I’m ground bound again. As I was prior to becoming a pilot. The only difference is now I know exactly what I’m missing.
For me the issue isn’t rooted in desire, or cost, or accessibility to a suitable aircraft. No, I’m merely accepting the same fate as Joe and Bo and so many who have come before me. I’ve been visited by a physical limitation that causes me to draw a line in the sand and say “that’s a wrap.”
In my case the limitation comes in the form of optical migraines. They don’t come with pain. In fact, there is nothing uncomfortable about them at all. They do adversely affect my vision, however. And that’s enough for me to invoke the spirit and letter of FAR 61.53.
At least in my case, an ocular migraine starts as a small, colorful semi-circle of fractals that form somewhere in my field of vision. Both eyes are affected identically. The shape grows in size over the course of half an hour or so, then dissipates. No big deal.
The problem is I can’t see very well during that period of time. In a car or on the motorcycle, I have a fair bit of warning that I’m going to experience an episode. It’s easy enough to pull over to a parking space, find a coffee shop or something similar, and wait it out. In the airplane that’s a different story altogether.
Some episodes aren’t much of a problem. But in extreme cases I can lose as much as 50% of my field of vision. That’s not good for collision avoidance. It might make it impossible for me to read a gauge or change to a specific radio frequency. In short, it puts me in an unsafe condition. And that’s enough for me to pull the plug on a career that I’ve loved so deeply for all these years.
At this age and experience level I know something the younger version of me wasn’t aware of. I’ve got nothing to prove. Not a single thing. I am who I am. I know what I know. I’ve got skills and talents developed through hard work and study. I’m good. Diminished perhaps, but still more or less functional in all other respects.
Well, my knees aren’t what they used to be, but I can live with that, too.
Thankfully, I can take the knowledge and experience I’ve gained over these past decades and use what’s stored in my noggin in other ways. I can still write. I can still teach. I can mentor folks who are looking for a constructive direction in life. I can even fly from the right seat as a highly enthusiastic passenger. I’ve just decided to self-limit my access to the left seat.
It’s the safe choice. It’s the smart move. It’s my line in the sand that I’ll honor out of respect for myself and the passengers who would have put their trust in me.
Of course, you can still find me here in the pages of General Aviation News. As long as I can hold a pencil in my teeth and tap away at the keyboard, I’m in this for the long haul.
I suspect the future is going to be interesting for me. But then, it always has been.
I know all about how this feels!
Jamie,
I have always looked forward to your articles and commentary, so your contributions will always be immensely welcome as long as you are producing them. You have been sharing your wealth of flying and life experiences, and you will always have that to pass along to others and the next generations.
I see the end of my flying days are not far off, too. I am just glad that all my other aeronautical pursuits in promoting volunteer pilot operations, aerospace education, and backcountry flying, etc., allow me to hang out and converse with so many great people.
One of the flying activities you can still enjoy would be to volunteer for one or more of the volunteer pilot groups as a right seat helper, handling some of the flying duties while also helping the patients or others who are being flown to their appointments, etc. There are more than 60 such groups listed by the Air Care Alliance, whose pilots fly patients, disaster relief supplies, veterans, rescued animals, and more, located all across the country. Additional flying and non-flying volunteers are always welcome!
Whatever you choose to do, I know it will be filled with enthusiasm, care, and joy! Thank you so much for doing what you do and being who you are!
Cheers, Rol
Jamie,
A former military aviator,a VERY minor, one-time aneurysm that popped In my brain ended my career at age 42. Ot was as likely to.happen to.me as to an 8 year-old. Leaving aviation, VERY involuntarily, hurt like all he’ll. I had to removethe largest part of my life, totally. At age 70 today, with ABSOLUTELY no recurrence, leaves me feeling betrayed. But, God’s will WILL be done. The stress that caused the infarct (I was the Corporate ‘hatchet-man’ for one of the largest woman-owned engineering firms in the country) was caused by being forced to fire two wholly-owned subsidiaries plus 110 engineers I hired, trained and worked with for almost 20 years, was something I never wanted to return to. After my two month long recovery, I re-entered Law Enforcement, first local, and finally retiring as a Federal Officer. This was.WAY LOWER on the stress level for me. Will MOSAIC mean a difference? Possibly, but more likely too little, to late… Mark “Hammer” Hamersly
Jamie,
Congratulations on a life well-lived as PIC and on the next chapter. You’ve made a difficult, but correct, choice. I hope that choice is several decades down the road for me, but the day will come for all of us and we can only hope to be so wise in our decision-making.
I have suffered from the same condition for many years but never knew it had a name. My doctor believed it was related to migraines, but could never come up with a diagnosis ot treatment, so I gave up the left seat many years ago. I took up ice hockey instead, but all those injuries are another story. Thanks for the great article!!!
I know what it’s like to give up flying. In my case, I require a medication that’s on the FAA’s never-never list. I really don’t have a choice, and apparently you don’t either. You’re doing the right thing. I hope you can stay in the game, perhaps by flying with someone else as PIC.
“Do we flail around shaking our fist at the oncoming darkness, or do we stand in awe of the sunset and bask in the memories of the day that led to it?”
Thats identical to the sentiment my mom, at 88, imparted to me earlier this year when my 65th trip around the sun rendered me illegal to sit in the Big Boeing and cross the Atlantic anymore.
She was right, as are you. It’s the journey, not the arrival, that we will remember.
Heartfelt congratulations on a great career that has touched more people than you’ll ever realize, and here’s hoping your words will grace GAN for decades to come.
Jamie,
I will look forward to being your safety pilot any time possible! I am sorry to hear about this, I had to look up what it was. FWIW, I’m going next week to ICT for what will be my last recurrent in the jet. I told my boss/son Sandy last month that I’m hanging up the jet keys next September on my 78th birthday. I can’t explain much less complain about how I have been fortunate enough to be able to ply my passion this long!
I intend/hope to continue to fly our beloved Aztec for another year or two, but I have long been determined and watchful to insure that I do not fly longer than I should. I know I am going to miss it when it’s over, but I take that thought as extremely positive and indicative of the great run I have had!
Let’s fly soon!
Bob Showalter
Hi, Bob. I am the Angel Flight pilot who took the picture of you when you flew the jet with David — who was high bidder for the fund raiser. You hung that picture on your wall — because it
About two+ years ago I gave up flying because the chemo “did me in.” Maybe I will regain my strength through physical therapy; however, I have plenty of other interests which fill the nooks and crannies.
Good luck!
Jamie,
You’ve written about this subject for almost 10 years now. Very eloquently so. Can I offer one particular statement you wrote that still really hits home for me?
“It’s all about attitude in the end. Do we flail around shaking our fist at the oncoming darkness, or do we stand in awe of the sunset and bask in the memories of the day that led to it?”
Or this one, which it sounds like you’re already on board with:
“If you can walk away from aviation with a clear conscience, feeling no desire to participate at all, while you transform yourself into the greatest philatelist in your neighborhood, that’s great. More power to you.
On the other hand, if you have a sense that you might miss the airport, your fellow hangar rats, the sound of round engines, and the words “clear prop” reverberating across the ramp – maybe you would find satisfaction and self-worth by participating in a different way.”
I look forward to more amazing insights from you, and hopefully to meeting you on a ramp somewhere.
Thanks for a great tale, Jamie, one we will all know sooner or later. Tough call, but a good one. I’ve often thought of your father when I fly the Air Cam he built. I’ll add you to the manifest.
Yeah, we’re selling off my “dream” bi plane project n I just had my second knee done. Time is no longer infinite. As you said, you will still be here, stirring the pot, offering insight and sharing lessons learned. We thank you for that.
Nature is a tough teacher. First comes the exam, then comes the lesson. Decisions based on the lessons are what we teach. An example well demonstrated my friend. Somehow I think there will always be a seat open for you should the twinge strike LOL. See ya’ around the kawffe pot Sir.
Terk, you make the world a better place. I’ve loved our time together in Lakeland every spring. As I’ve said many times before, the airplanes were great, the flights were inspirational, but it was the people that really cemented me into the aviation career I’ve been so fortunate to have.
Be well, sir. We’ll meet again, I’m sure.
Without a doubt my favorite aviation writer, friend and fellow alumni. Keep stroking the keys that have inspired me and many for so many years to keep soaring. You still have “The Right Stuff”! Not to mention but I will, it’s a great day to be an American and a friend of Jamie’s! Godspeed Brother!
We will all take our final flight as PIC some day. As you have done, I hope to choose when that will be.
Jamie, as you turn the page on this chapter, take warm comfort in the number of lives you’ve lifted(literally) behind the stick/yoke. Those of us that have flown will always look up wistfully when we’re grounded. This is now your opportunity to find new passions or continue to point people to the skies in other ways. Well done my friend.
Had I never taken on the challenge of learning to fly and establishing a career in aviation, I would not have met and been befriended by folks like you and Marianne. My life is infinitely better thanks to those relationships and the opportunity I’ve had to bring the wonder of flight to people who never dreamed they had the potential to fly. We’re blessed, Bryan. I’m sure feeling it today with the outpouring of messages of support.
Good article: well-written and interesting. As the saying goes: “A man/woman must know his/her limitations” and respect them. By hanging up your goggles you prolong your life and potentially the lives and property of others in the air and on the ground. I respect you for your wisdom and decision, pilot. God bless you for it.
Regards/J
Your courageous decision is just a continuation of your lifetime of teaching people about aviation. It’s important to hear from pilots like you. All of us will have to make the same decision someday. Do we want to quit on top or just continue on until we start embarrassing ourselves, or worse, hurt somebody? I just hope I can be the former and not the latter.
JAMIE, Take care of those knees. For myself and with a history of knee problems; I found that a bicycle was the best prescription. You need MOVEMENT, but not SHOCK LOAD. Bicycle offers the best exercise and strengthening with only smooth pedal pressure loading – much better than walking distances.
Yes, I received similar “messages” from my body last year and at age 85 decided it was time for some else to enjoy my beloved sweet flying 172.
Jerry King
You made the right choice, Jamie. Dust off that Ground Instructor ticket and, for goodness sake, stay in the game.
Much respect for knowing when you should stop and doing it.
I would first like to thank you for effectively bringing to light the reality of time moving on, and of reminding me that I am not alone. At times it is indeed difficult getting to acceptance of life on life’s terms. Like you, I have had a storied career in aviation over the many years. First earned my Private in 1965 training from the same hangar where American Airlines was founded in 1935 and attended their 30th anniversary while still a student in 1965. During the years I’ve flown 200 public benefit flights for Angel Flight Northeast and received FAA’s Master Pilot Award to name a few. And like you when the ground below unfolds before me it never gets old. But today in my 80’s the confidence in my skill set is noticeably fading and safety is becoming a concern. The time is soon coming for me to retire from the left seat controls in hopes of using the aviation skills in other ways.
I know you from attending many of your talks at AOPA/Oshkosh/Sun-N-Fun. I’m one of those guys who grabs your attention following your talk and proceeding to ask incessant questions. Again thanks for your support and reassurance.
It’s good to know we’re here for each other, Lowell. I hope we meet again on a ramp, or an infield, or the airport restaurant. It’s always a pleasure to talk with a kindred spirit.