An idyll of contentment

When my dad died on Labor Day 2012, he and my mom had just celebrated their 56th wedding anniversary a few weeks prior.  To contemplate spending so long with one other person, faithful to one other person, committed to one other person, caring for and about one other person is beyond "possible" for many, beyond "likely" for most. Their 56+ years together weren't perfect but perfection is not the nature of life.  Neither is perfection the nature of happiness with another person.  Happiness is a fulfillment born of wanting for another more than wanting for self.  Differences and challenges provide a tension that encourages growth, both separately, as individuals, and together, as an unique entity.

56 years is a rare achievement. Yet my (paternal) grandparents were married for 73 years before my grandfather preceded my grandmother in death by only days.  Both were well into their 90s.  I have no doubt that Mom and Dad would have challenged that longevity absent the unpredictable influence of fate; in this case, cancer.  Dad and Mom didn't both survive that challenge together.  But the love they share did.

So should I be surprised that as I wake today, I rise to celebrate my own 30-year commitment with one whom I have described as "the best person I've ever known"?  When I consider our milestone, the years fly by like nanoseconds, punctuated by the bright flashes of opportunities, some victories, some insurmountable challenges that helped us to grow...together.  Like every other couple, we have faced darkness and difficulty along with light and comfort.  Unlike many, we withstood the ravages and grew closer to what has ultimately become "us".  At every juncture, there were choices to be made.  We did the best we could.  We survived.  We persevered.  We thrived both because of and in spite of whatever circumstance had in store for us.  In typical fashion for us, we spend today's milestone in separate hemispheres but we are far from separated.

Contrary to anything I would have ever believed possible or likely, we nurtured a young life in our home. What a responsibility.  What a privilege.  What a blessing.  If ever you want to challenge your committed relationship, bring the responsibility of caring for another life into the mix.  Parenting is the ultimate test and most important job that anyone will ever face in my estimation.  If anything, maybe we tried too hard.  I believe there was an expectation that we would fail.  Looking back now, I think we did just fine.

"Thirty years" means that we likely have more days together behind us than we do ahead of us.  That is a sobering realization.  Advancing in life with the one you love is like sharing a bottle of fine wine.  The exuberance and anticipation at the pop of the cork are replaced with savoring and appreciation as the bottom of the bottle becomes a clear inevitability. 

Love. (Please take note that this lover of adjectives has allowed that simple, 4-letter noun to stand on its own merit, just as it should). Love, in all its guises, is humanity's prime directive.  As pivotal as it is, love alone is not enough to sustain a successful relationship over time.  One element is even more integral to success and it is a gift that the one selflessly bestows upon the other.  If love is the cosmic force that draws two souls together, then respect is the universal superglue that bonds them.  

Respect is the force that allows us to accept and even to defend the differences between ourselves and those we love.  It is the recognition that two entities don't have to be (and maybe shouldn't be) clones of one another to form a lasting bond.  In the end, our diversity is our greatest strength.  It allows each of us to bring to bear our unique powers and make our bond together more impervious.  Respect is that most critical of things, that most common of things:  a simple choice.

On this special day, I'd like to conjure an indelible image from my childhood memories...

Mom, Dad, David and I often visited Dad's parents at their farm home.  We usually went after supper but knew not to arrive too late.  My grandparents retired with the Sun and the chickens, as most folks did whose lives were inextricably tethered to the land.  

There, in the fleeting remnants of the day, we'd quietly arrive on their familiar front porch.  My brother and I would sneak a peek through the lace curtains of the front room window to see what we almost always saw, what we had come to expect to see:  Papa and Granna sitting closely together in their chairs, side-by-side in front of the dying embers in the fireplace, sometimes revisiting the events of the day, sometimes just basking in the glow of one another's company and the waning light and warmth of the fire.

An idyll of contentment.

From an early age, I knew what real happiness would look and feel like.  I thought I recognized it on this day, thirty years ago.  

I did.  

I still do.

One Year Later

I like to find and celebrate the greatness in those I work with, no matter the title, no matter the responsibilities. I tend not to do it on my timeline in consideration of my airline-employer's social media policy. But rules have their exceptions, even those rules that are self-imposed.

A year ago, my company turned the corner on a dark chapter which had culminated with the public excoriation of our chief executive over some extraordinarily questionable dealings with powerful officials at one of our largest hubs. His actions were a disgrace to our business reputation and could potentially result in charges for he and our organization. Our Board of Directors acted. The CEO in question was replaced by a board member with no previous experience in our arguably highly specialized industry.

I'm fond of saying that not all leaders are in leadership positions and that not all those in leadership positions are true leaders. But when a "natural" leader is placed into the proper leadership position, marvelous things can and will happen. Kismet.

September 8, 2015 was a pivotal date for my airline-employer, having suffered through years of "muddling through" a less-than-optimal merger of equals. It seemed that we had all the pieces to a tediously complicated puzzle. What we lacked was a competent puzzle master to help guide us in placing the pieces. As unprepared and ill-equipped as some seemed to think him, our puzzle master began his work.

Less than a month later, on the cusp of a momentous and long-overdue "labor summit" with all our principle work groups, both he and we suffered a setback. Health issues, life-threatening health issues we learned subsequently, threatened our leader and our future with him at the helm. For more than a third of the year since he joined us as our CEO, our new leader has been "out sick", culminating in heart transplant surgery which would have been the end of his work life just a few years ago. But for him and for us, his new heart was a turning point.

Every day, we are faced with the "intersections" in our life, as I call them. Those intersections require us to act based on what we know, what we think and what we believe. Often, the decisions are as simple as what to have for lunch. But on a handful of occasions during our life, they are momentous to the degree that all subsequent intersections are affected by the one. As far as my work life is concerned, today is the anniversary of such an intersection.

As Yogi Berra might have said, "we came to a fork in the road and we took it." The story is as much Hollywood as it is Wall Street but drama sure can make things interesting.

My opinion: one year ago, our puzzle found its master. The pieces have only just begun to fall into place.

An Olympic Adventure

The people and “climate” of Brazil have always been warm and welcoming, never moreso than during the past few weeks when they’ve hosted South America’s first-ever Olympic Games.  It’s the (seemingly) gratuitously bureaucratic side of the place that can bring any great plan to a screeching halt.

My Flight Attendant crew and I deadheaded (rode as passengers) into position from Houston to Sao Paulo overnight arriving in the early hours of the 21st.  I particularly looked forward to meeting new colleagues from the “other side” of our companies' merger of almost 6 years (yet still flying separately as distinct, pre-merger groups), having a chance to chat and to see for myself, to prove to myself that we really aren’t that different, after all.  We deadheaders were greeted at the gate and invited to come onboard to get settled by the working Purser and several other members of the cabin crew.  In aviation, routes, seniority and available flying are everything.  Though the Houston/Sao Paulo route is one that has gone back and forth between pre-merger subsidiary groups repeatedly, there was no rancor between us, the smiles were genuine, as seemed the feeling behind them.  Maybe everyone was on his/her “party manners”.  That's not so uncommon at a first meeting.

Once in GRU (Sao Paulo), my charter crew was set to meet at 1245 the next day for our bus ride back to the airport.  From our layover hotel in the financial center of this enormous city, a trip to the airport can be quite an odyssey.  With that in mind, we were all assembled there on time.  But our bus wasn't.  At “go” time, a hotel representative informed our ISM (onboard leader, equivalent to a Purser) that the bus would arrive closer to 1305, due to a miscommunication.  That time slid closer to 1315.  Our scheduled ferry flight to Rio (we would operate the airplane without passengers to get into position for our charter) was to leave GRU at 1500.  It was a relief to find that the midday traffic was lighter than usual.  We arrived with an hour to spare....or so we thought.

Our normally scheduled flight departures leave from Terminal 3 which is used for substantially all international operations.  We passed through Terminal 3 security and approached the Immigration control kiosks.  There was some question about our status as we were not, strictly leaving Brazil right away.  Should we retain our landing cards (normally surrendered at departure) and keep our passports unstamped, in the event something should occur that would prevent us from leaving Brazil as scheduled that night?

The question drew conflicting answers.  Kiosk officers consulted their superiors, our GRU station manager, Ichida-san was summoned, and telephone calls were made.  Prior arrangements had been made for us to formally “exit” at this point, since we planned to leave Brazil immediately upon our return to GRU with the Olympians.  But there was a new "Chief of Police" (Ichida-san's term) on duty today and he thought otherwise.  By his directive, we were told to leave Terminal 3, walk a fair distance to Terminal 2, enter the sterile area there as domestic crew and then be bused to our waiting aircraft on a hardstand (airstairs rather than jetbridge) back at T3!

While attempting to do execute that new plan, we encountered misunderstanding-related problems at T2 security, then at the hardstand transportation area.  I reminded Ichida-san that a similar trip was happening in September for the Para-Olympics.  He said that his staff had gone to great pains to clear all arrangements for this very special trip and thought that they had matters well in hand.  It seems it was the willfulness of a local bureaucrat that had changed the plan.

When we arrived at our aircraft (767-400), we were surprised that our Flight Deck Crew was onboard, having SUCCESSFULLY entered the sterile area as normal, via Terminal 3, surrendering their landing cards and having their passports stamped.  Without the assistance of our 3 Portuguese speakers to bridge the language gap, they had accomplished what we could not.  (There's a great deal of kismet involved in successfully planning and executing anything "outside the norm" in Brazil, in my estimation.)

As late as the departure of our ferry flight from GRU to GIG, none of our 39 BusinessFirst (premium cabin) seats had been assigned, yet our economy cabin was near fully-booked.  We expected that VIPs would receive upgrades from Economy, at some point.  We learned what that point would be in flight!

About halfway from GRU to Rio de Janeiro (GIG), a total of 38 minutes, we discovered that all 39 seats would now be occupied by special customers upgraded from Economy.  Accessing the onboard wifi, we used our LINK (an iPhone 6Plus that serves as manual, onboard sales tool, and universal "connected" resource) to verify this information.  We took advantage of the resources available onboard (the LINK, wifi and paper) to put together a seating chart and learned that we would indeed be serving 20 US Olympic Gold medalists, 4 Silver medalists and 11 Bronze medalists.   Several weeks ago, upon learning that this flight would be a quasi-Olympic charter, I did some prep work.  I gathered a passenger manifest and created a spreadhsheet in the configuration of our aircraft cabin.  I plugged in each passenger, by seat assignment, then added his/her Olympic sport or affiliation.  As the games progressed, I updated the data with medals won by individuals and teams.  At this juncture, it was just a matter of getting the right passenger in the corrected seat.

We were so excited.  But our excitement was tempered by the practical:  the GRU station had catered the premium cabin for 27 and told us to only expect 15 occupants.  Now there would be 39!  "Folks, it's loaves and fishes time!"

Upon our arrival, the GIG station did a cabin security sweep and we prepared for boarding.  In spite of the short flight time back to GRU, we intended to give our special guests the full Businessfirst treatement, including a pre-departure beverage service. We knew that we would be boarding through 1L (forward-most left door), funneling everyone through the galley where we’d be working to serve those pre-departure beverages.  What an opportunity to meet the people we'd spent 2 weeks watching compete on the world stage...but we'd be busy.  I remembered my friend Christi telling me about an iWatch feature that allows you to control your iPhone camera remotely.  So, I set my phone up with the camera app open, perched atop a tissue box in a corner of the galley and chose the correct app on my watch.  No matter what I was doing, I could monitor the traffic flow on the watchface and “snap” photos remotely as our athletes passed through.

As the boarding flow slowed to a trickle, our ISM announced that we all  (Flgiht Attendants) needed to bring our passports to the boarding door.  Authorities were insisting that our departure from Brazil be processed before we left GIG to return to GRU.  (They said that we SHOULD have cleared immigration formalities before leaving GRU.  Ironic, huh?)   Their insistence drove a half-hour delay which made some of our guests anxious about their onward connections, all on other flights of my airline-employer from GRU.  Delays provoke anxiety.  One way we thought ofcalming that anxiety was to involve our guests in OUR excitement at having them onboard.

That’s how the idea for the Medal Panorama camera shot was born!

“Would the medalists seated in A-zone mind retrieving their medals so that we can take a “class picture”?  We’ll be happy to email it to anyone who wants it…it’s bound to be a keepsake moment!”  It was a welcome distraction from an uncontrollable miscommunication.  Everyone happily obliged.

Did you know that you have to be perfectly still to get a good panorama shot?!  I didn’t!  But THEY did!  As I started the left-to-right sweep of my phone, I heard someone calling down a seat mate, “Be still or it won’t come out!”  Such a special moment!

The brief flight and abbreviated service went smoothly.  Several of our stars said they were surprised to be treated to BusinessFirst…they never expected it.  And me?  I’m simply blown away by the grace and poise of our Olympic royalty.  What an unexpected, irreplaceable experience that 40 minutes was for me, personally.

We landed in GRU and all dispersed to our onward flights for the journey back to the USA.  Several of our Olympic guests came with my crew tonight to Houston…as did the wonderful working colleagues who brought my crew down 2 nights ago.  Having those folks welcome us who knew what we’d done today eased the way to sharing the experience and excitement with them.  Carmen, Christie, Neil, Sue, Nolan, Janet, Kim and Jesus felt like welcoming family, anxious to see us and to hear our news of the day.

I was briefly in the company of 35 medalists; a DREAM come true for a devote of all things Olympic, like me!  I made the acquaintance and formed fast friendships with 8 of my new colleagues in the process.  In a 32 year flying career, today was a standout day for me, an adventure of Olympic proportion.

Credit where credit is due!

Big SHOUTOUT to our Santiago flight kitchen!

We had only 9 customers in B Zone on 846 departing Santiago de Chile night before last, so I "floated" to Economy Class to lend a hand.  After the service, I sat down with an Economy meal before my break started.  Tray, utensils, plasticware, it all looked the same as "normal" but...

The couscous salad was BRILLIANT!  Fresh, subtle flavors with just a suggestion of pungent onion and pepper.  I haven't enjoyed couscous since my days in the Latin Quarter as a poor college student and NEVER did I enjoy it unheated.

The chicken entree was a Mediterranean preparation of white meat chicken with tomato-based sauce, black olives, capers, and a smattering of goat cheese.  It was FRESHLY PREPARED!  The clincher on this dish was that I found a whole bay leaf in mine.  A bay leaf...whole...in an Economy meal.

The quality of the salad and main more than made up for the choco-flavored (read fake) Cool Whip desert which looked much nicer than it tasted.  The "mousse" was underwhelming and left a "synthetic" aftertaste.  I stopped after one spoonful and am regretting that one.

Overall though, GREAT JOB!

(I wish I'd had my phone in my pocket for a quick photo of the bay leaf.  I'm almost doubting my memory of it!)

Ku'u home

Yesterday, after morning traffic had dissipated somewhat, my mom drove into town for an overnight visit.  Our plan was to spend the afternoon with my widowed aunt and and her daughters at Northside Hospital's Cancer Center.  My aunt was recently diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer and was to have a procedure to stint a biliary duct that had been blocked by the growth of a cancerous lesion.

As Mom, Philip and I had a light lunch, we were mindful of the fact that my aunt has been unable to eat meaningfully for months.  She has been so wrapped up in the care of her second husband (my uncle died some years ago), that her own health has suffered without remark, with hardly even any notice.  If it weren't for the unusual metallic taste in her mouth and the recent yellowing of her skin, we might still think that Aunt Laura "just wasn't eating right".  The fact is, she's hardly eaten at all and her body is noticeably wasted.

To myself, I wonder, "What is the point of sitting with the girls during the procedure?"  But the answer is self-evident.  It's a demonstration of love and care.  It's a repayment of the kindnesses we received when Dad was in decline.  It's a distraction from the galvanizing fact that a life we value is about to end.

In a pre-operative appointment, the physician was hopeful that the stint could be placed endoscopically, a quick, efficient procedure from which Aunt Laura could quickly recuperate.  Once the duct was open, many of her symptoms would be alleviated.  The tumor would still be present.  The prognosis would still be grim but she would gain some immediate, day-to-day relief.  Most importantly, she would have a bit more time free from disease-related stress to plan and make decisions. If the endoscopic procedure didn't go well, they would place the stint via an open procedure, meaning longer recovery and increased likelihood of complications.

The girls, daughters, daughter-in-law and granddaughter were gathered in support of their mom.  A quick pre-op visit revealed that Aunt Laura was at peace.  Just the day before, she had secured a supportive accommodation for her husband who suffers from age-related memory issues.  Were she able to join him there, the facility would welcome her in an apartment-like setting with her husband.  So many concerns were addressed with that one decision and commitment.  But the one that mattered most and most immediately was never at issue:  Aunt Laura was at peace with the idea that her time on Earth was nearly done; she was confident in her physician and reliant upon the Physician.  Her composure must surely have been a gift to the girls.  It was to me.

As her procedure began, we sat together in the surgical waiting room, engaged in the idle prattle of the concerned, a thin guise for the fear and uncertainty that prevailed.  We reminisced, smiled, laughed and supported those we love with the good-intentioned distractions that serve so well.  After an hour or so, we learned that the procedure had gone as planned and that Aunt Laura would be free to go home in another hour, or so.  This hurdle had been cleared handily.  There would be time and relief now to prepare for the next hurdle and for the end of the race.

When Mom and I returned to the apartment, an appetite-stimulating aroma wafted out as the door opened. Philip had been busy doing his part to support the cause, preparing his Aunt Anne's Butter Chicken, jasmine brown rice and broccoli for our dinner, left warming on the stove until he returned from afternoon yoga. Mom and I shared some wine while waiting. By the time he got back, we were ready to be comforted by Philip's culinary expression of love and support.  Dinner was the perfect period at the end of a lovingly-written sentence. 

In retrospect, what Mom, Philip and I did was so little.  In reality, what we did was very nearly all that matters in life.

If, in our very "busy" lives we can't take time to help our fellow travelers along their path, what, exactly, are we here for?  We concern ourselves with so much that, in the end, is of little real consequence.  Why is that?  To distract ourselves from our own mortality?

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt."

To be continued...(thank God!)

Epilogue: Surprise & Delight

We learned as we gathered at the gate that a significant storm system was moving into the Chicago area and could result in delays at O'Hare.  The captain seemed to think that we would still have a window of opportunity to operate our flight at near the scheduled times.  We boarded our completely full aircraft and departed, as normal.

As we taxied toward the departure runway, I thought it odd that we made a left turn, crossing the active departure runway, onto the taxiway between arrivals and departures.  The sound of the #1 engine spooling down as it does upon gate arrival confirmed my suspicions.  We were being sent to the "penalty box".  A ground stop had been declared at O'Hare and our departure would be delayed indefinitely.  The captain did an admirable job of explaining our situation, adding that he would give us periodic updates.  The flight attendants immediately offered water to customers parched by the mid-summer heat and understandably anxious from the news.  Just their presence in the cabin calmed things, I think.

Updates came but they didn't hold much good news or much promise that good news would be forthcoming.  The captain's calm, professional delivery kept anxieties to a minimum.  As we approached the hour mark, the cabin crew offered snacks and a mix of soft drinks.  Unhurried and friendly, the atmosphere remained calm. The gentlemen behind me actually joked about missing their connecting flights.

At near the 2 hour mark, the Captain's news was decidedly not good.  We had been given a takeoff slot hours in the future and the crew would reach their FAA-mandated maximum duty period constraints long before then.  They were making a last-ditch appeal to Air Traffic Control via our dispatchers in Chicago to advance our place in line.  But it was clear that he wasn't hopeful.

A collective moan rose in the cabin.  The cancellation of a full flight between the nation's two largest air hubs sounded like disaster because it certainly would be for those affected.

Without warning, I began to simultaneously hear and feel a rumble from the left hand side of the plane (I'm sitting in the window seat at the left emergency exit). I recognized the familiar engine start as soon as it began.  Seconds later, "Ladies and gentlemen, we were successful!  ATC has moved us to the front of the line. If we leave right way, we're going to Chicago.  Everyone take your seats as quickly as you can."

Folks were seated and the flight attendants had the cabin cleared of service articles as quickly as I've ever seen it done.

"Flight Attendants, please be seated for departure."  The guys behind me laughed, "I don't think they needed to be told!"  No, they didn't.

At present, we're flying a strange arc out to the west of Chicago in order to circumnavigate and come in behind what the captain described as a Level 4 storm, "the kind that can uproot trees."  Fine with me!  I don't hear any arguments from the Type-As seated all around me, either!

And, if anything, I'm prouder of my airline-employer's performance today than I was earlier, in spite of our 2-hour plus arrival delay.  Anyone should be able to do a good job under perfect circumstances (we weren't able to do even that for a while, sadly). 

It's a customer-pleasing, expectation exceeding performance under uncontrollable circumstances that separates the truly good from the merely passable.  I used to work for the truly good.  I'm excited to think that I may have that opportunity again before I retire.

I have a really, really, REALLY good feeling about that.

P.S.  As I exited the airplane and stepped onto the jet bridge, I overheard a woman behind me say, "They did a really good job!"

Yes, they did. 

Surprise and Delight

Few things excite me like making a real-world report as a surprised and delighted customer of my airline-employer. I'm traveling Atlanta/Chicago today at 1701, prime time. 

I arrived at the airport via train at 1535. Upon checking, I learn that my flight is departing on-time.  Checking a little deeper, I learn that the aircraft for my flight will be arriving early from ChIcago. 

I stop into the Club, upstairs, near gate 10.  As soon as the elevator doors opened, I noticed it.  I knew in an instant that the sophisticated, modern, attractive yet subtle aroma I smelled had to be the much-hyped "Landing",  my airline's soon-to-be signature fragrance. To confirm my suspicions, I asked the smiling agent who greeted me. 

"Yes, it is!  I'm can't believe how many people have remarked upon it."

As I moved into the club area with food and drink, I wondered if it might be too much, if "Landing" might not mix well with eau de red pepper & Gouda soup. But the transition was actually pleasant. 

As I write this, I'm enjoying a crisp, refreshing glass of nicely chilled prosecco.  Muted conversations all around me and the occasional laugh reveal calm, relaxed customer experiences; the sounds of the anxiety-free. 

And I'm thinking, "Now, this is the way an experience with My company

should feel, taste, look, smell and sound."  There's nowhere I'd rather be today. 

I'd love to share that experience with you. I hope I did.