When I was first introduced to "M" almost three years ago, her daughter told me that her Mom had flown airplanes, specifically that she had taught Naval Pilots how to fly during WW II. I can remember that when she told me, it almost sounded matter-of fact. That was understandable. The daughter had grown up with a flying Mother her entire life. Nothing out of the ordinary there!
But boy, was I impressed! Not only was it an uncommon job for a woman to hold even by today's standards, but it was seventy years ago! The world was in a completely different era, especially when it came to how women were viewed.
Eager to learn more, I asked all the usual questions. When? Where? What Kind (of Plane)? Why? The answers could not be revealed right away, but rather would unravel themselves in much greater detail as I got to know "M" and her family members better.
One of the first stories I recall about "M"s experience as a flight instructor involved her first foray into teaching. It was during the early 1940's, and the United States had now established itself as a key player in what had already been a devastating World War throughout Europe.
As shared in our seashell stories, "M"s love of flying began at an early age on the Gulf Coast of Florida, where her grandfather had a friend with a small plane. Although "M" could not remember the man's name, she could remember that vehicle as if it were yesterday. To hear her tell it, the sky was calling her from the first instant she saw the plane, and she knew as a young girl that her destiny was to be intertwined with aviation.
She often told me about how she would offer to help the man with the plane, particularly by washing and polishing it. Picking up on her enthusiasm (which for a young girl, was probably not well hidden), he finally asked her to go for a ride in the two-seated, open-air craft. For "M", it was a dream come true, and she jumped at the opportunity.
There was one small catch. Helmets, however primitive they were compared to today's standards, were still required, especially for a pre-teen girl. Although tall in stature, "M" was still very young, and the man had difficulty finding a helmet that would fit her not so fully grown head. Together with her Grandfather, the men fashioned a unique and quite sturdy shell that would serve as appropriate protection for "M"s noggin'.
And off she went! Soaring next to the birds and clouds. Her first foray into flying. No fear. No hesitation. It was full steam ahead for "M", and a lifelong love affair with flight had begun to bud.
Needless to say, her parents were not only taken aback, but also rather reluctant when their daughter eventually approached them with her post-graduation plans. Granted, the family was rather eccentric and prone to unusual vocations, as evidenced by the head of an enormous (and rather unfortunate) Ram caught by a bachelor Uncle that was prominently mounted in "M"s living room. Large game hunting for an unmarried male at that time was one thing. Flying airplanes during war-time was another thing entirely, especially for a female!
But "M"s desires and skills did not just involve actually flying the planes, they were perfectly suited to teaching others how to navigate. And it is as a result of this, along with the fact that her older brother was an officer in the Navy and had many military connections, "M" was recruited by a nearby Naval Base to instruct the new flyboys.
"M" loved this role, and she likes to tell the same stories over and over again. And I don't mind listening over and over. It is a wonderful tale about building self-esteem and achieving a difficult goal. You see, many of the young men who were sent to "M" for flight instruction were the ones who seemed to be ill-fitted for the job. In other words, no one else was able to teach them with any success. Scared and self-inhibited, they would come to "M" as a last resort. Yet amazingly, as she gained their trust by simply listening to their troubles, which included young hearts that had been painfully broken or family expectations that had not been met, "M" was able to empathize with their woes. It's an amazing skill, actually, and one that is inherent, not learned. "M" possessed the great ability to hear other peoples' problems, compassionately and without judgment. In this way, the young men would open up to her, thereby freeing themselves of their pent-up angst, and allowing them to concentrate more fully on learning to fly. As "M" tells it, most of her students were success stories, and it is something she remains extremely proud of over seventy years later. Her one sorrow was that she was teaching them a skill that could very well lead to their early deaths, a burden then seems to haunt her 'til this day. She never knew if her students survived or not.
Later on in my acquaintance with "M", I was privileged to see some of her photo albums from her Naval days. In every single picture, "M" is beaming. Whether it be a shot of her showing a young man the instrument panel, or a group photograph in which she was typically the only woman surrounded by a group of men (also beaming, but perhaps for a different reason), "M"s expression is one of sheer and absolute joy. She was doing what she loved and she loved doing it!
Ironically, all these decades later, wasn't I doing the very same thing through my work with her? What a gift indeed, and how lucky we both were to be able to appreciate it.
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