Dinner And A Movement

Over the course of the 73 years between when Paul Poberezny first sat down to establish the Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) and today, roughly 900 chapters have popped up. They’re based in large cities and in tiny hamlets. Each chapter is unique — although all share a basic premise: The pursuit of general aviation is worth the effort.

Secondarily, perhaps, is the idea that our involvement in aviation should involve a price that doesn’t break the bank. A tough sell, I know. But there is validity in the pursuit. By spreading the cost of a hangar, or an aircraft project, or a specialty tool across multiple members, the cost per person becomes downright reasonable.

The mission statement of the EAA is to grow participation in aviation by promoting The Spirit of Aviation. Now, that sentence is appealing enough to grab the attention of anyone casually considering dipping a toe into the aviation market. It is also vague enough to be interpreted broadly based on our own individual interests and biases.

A spontaneous visit to a random EAA chapter may reveal a group of motivated individuals working collaboratively to restore a classic airplane that’s seen better days. Or it may be focused on ultralight aircraft. Or the management of a warbird. Or they may be building an aircraft from commercially available plans or a kit.

There is a world of opportunity to be found amongst the EAA membership. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I would be remiss in my duties as a big mouth columnist if I didn’t mention that I am a Lifetime Member of the EAA.

It’s not all smiles and bliss, however. Too often I’ve found chapters that have devolved into a small group of folks drinking coffee, bitching about the state of the industry, and wishing their fairy godmother would come bestow upon them a multitude of new members. And maybe a more prosperous bank account, too.

That’s unfortunate. But it is not an inevitable outcome any more than it is a desirable one. In fact, the Grumpy Gus contingent can be revitalized easily enough. The solution exists.

Seriously. Hear me out on this.

I’ve just returned from the annual fundraising dinner held by EAA Chapter 1240 of Sebring, Florida.

For those who are unfamiliar, Sebring is notable for two things. One is the Sebring International Raceway, home of the Mobil 1 Twelve Hours of Sebring race. The other, lesser known but equally impressive point, is EAA Chapter 1240’s profound effect on education, aviation, and youth.

The key to this successful operation is a combination of visionary leadership combined with a commitment to execute on their plans. This success story is years in the making. But it is one any chapter could replicate in any part of the country — one that arguably should be copied far and wide. Because it works.

The chapter’s hangar is occupied each week by students from all three Highlands County High Schools. They started building an AirCam with doctor, astronaut, and all-around cool dude Story Musgrave. A project they finished. The airplane flies.

By committing themselves to a mission that has legs, one that brings new faces into the industry each year, EAA Chapter 1240 hasn’t just embarked on a plan that makes them feel good about themselves. They’re expanding their reach in the community, gaining new members, and helping to put young people on a path to a bigger, more enriching life than this rural community might have offered otherwise.

In addition to a series of popular pancake breakfast fundraisers throughout the year, the chapter also throws a delightful annual dinner that attracts a broad spectrum of aviation enthusiasts and their guests from the local area and beyond.

Catered by culinary students from the local school system, the dinner itself is consistently delicious. Portions are plentiful. Diners are satiated.

Large round tables comfortably seat eight guests each in a hangar substantial enough in size that a B-25 and an RV-12 can be tucked into a corner as guests eat, drink, and socialize.

The star of the show isn’t the B-25, however. It’s not the dinner itself, or Jimmy from the Jimmy’s World YouTube channel telling tales of his aeronautical adventures. Although any one of those is worth the visit.

The star of this show is the movement itself: The chapter’s commitment to expanding the ranks within the aviation industry by actively supporting teenagers and their desire to become participants. A quest that is demonstrated by the presentation of two scholarships for private pilot flight training in the amount of $12,000 each.

This year’s recipients were Sophia Santiago and Harman Bharath, high school students who have the desire to fly, but not the means to cover the cost.

Presented by Chuck Ahearn, president of the Ray Foundation, these life-altering gifts will be used to achieve the goals of the EAA, the chapter, the Ray Foundation, and the recipients. Because participation ticks all the boxes.

The EAA and the chapter gain new members, along with a well-deserved sense of purpose. The recipients learn to fly and gain all the benefits of that know-how. And the Ray Foundation fulfills its mission of facilitating the development of life skills.

Is there a better way of learning self-discipline, self-confidence, and self-reliance than building, maintaining, and flying an aircraft? I don’t think so. Thankfully, EAA Chapter 1240 and the Ray Foundation see this as a pretty darned good vehicle for helping teenagers become the best adults they can be.

You could look at the annual dinner as a night out. Or you could see it as a fundraiser for a worthwhile cause in a small southern town. Or you might consider it the blueprint for a movement your own community could benefit from — a plan for blazing a trail for teenagers in your town. Kids with big dreams, but no roadmap, and limited mentoring to help them get there.

Sometimes a dinner is more than just dinner. Sometimes it’s an idea that can lead to a movement and can change the whole world for somebody. I’m certainly paying attention. I’d recommend you do too.