More than . .

Hello as we begin a new month,

It is actually early morning, barely the first of February, and while I went to be rather early, a long day for Gavin and getting home late woke me. I was already awake an hour or so ago, so probably not really back to any deep sleep. Now I have clothes in the dryer (and the buckles on the Carhartts will keep me up for a bit). As I am wont to do when I wake up, I look through the news. As you can see it’s taken some time to post this, but I will leave it as initially written.

The continuing coverage of the mid-air collision of the American Airlines regional jet and the Black Hawk helicopter is devastating for more than the reality of two flying objects hurtling into the other, for more than the incredible loss of 67 people, and for more than the politicization of the staffing of Reagan National, the members of the ATC, or the blame to which they have been subjected. The reality is there are no minor crashes or fender-benders when we are discussing an airplane. My very first flight, as a 17 year old headed to Marine Corps Boot Camp, the plane blew a tire as it landed. It was disconcerting for this small, already nervous, wide-eyed, young man ad his first experience in the friendly skies. And yet, in spite of a little turbulence, one aborted landing in Houghton, and a very uncomfortable military flight from San Bernardino to Hawaii, the number of times flown, the types of aircraft experienced, and the 100s of 1,000s of miles have been quite unmemorable, which is a good thing. I tried to do some research about safety, and one interesting statistic found was that train travel, which is not all that common, but also something I have experienced, is four-times more dangerous than air travel.

The first thing I thought of when the initial notifications flashed on my feeds “crash and the Potomac” was the Air Florida crash a number of years ago. My sister, who was an Army cartographer, was tasked with mapping the crash debris in the muddy, murky waters of the river. She never flew again. Earlier this evening I read the accounts of skaters, coaches, family, students, professors, grooms-to-be, and I was brought to tears as I tried to fathom the wave of emotions and the ripple effect of this tragedy from Russia and China to Boston, Wichita, or any other place someone called home. It’s so much more than people, places, or plans. As I read the coverage, and there is a point where I almost feel like an ambulance chaser, which creates some guilt, I think it is because I want to somehow, in someway, lift up these ordinary to many, but exceptional to their loved-ones, individuals who were minutes from ending what was a routine flight. The number of times I have looked out the window to watch as we approached a runway is more times than I have fingers and toes. Thinking about what I needed to do, where I parked my car, if I would need a bathroom before leaving the airport. I cannot imagine there was anytime to prepare for the seconds that occurred between the crash of the two flying machines and hitting the icy water of the Potomac. The fact that the plane is in three separate pieces speaks volumes. There is so much more to be discovered, and that is one of the dilemmas moving forward.

The next days of still recovering people, the arduous tasks of rebuilding the plane to some extent to determine structural properties, the examination and investigations of the NTSB and the military will certainly create more questions during the process. But this is more than process, it is about improving safety. It is about honoring the people who tragically lost their lives. It is about providing an additional sense of closure for those whose lives have been irrevocably altered. The reality that the military is involved will probably add impossible difficulty to the task. Already, questions have been posed about the safety corridors; already inquiries from individuals to members of Congress about the volume of traffic around Reagan National; already decisions to change the routes of the extensive helicopter traffic in the area are coming out as our 24/7 news organizations try to get the latest scoop. And yet this is so much more than a news story.

This past fall, I was honored to officiate two weddings for former students. While the events are certainly celebratory, in both cases a close family member of each couple passed shortly before their wedding. Life is so much more than a single event, even the most life-changing of them. . . . Almost 3 weeks and passed and I did not get this blog completed; ironically, there was another accident at an airport yesterday. To see a plane upside down on the runway is almost unimaginable. In both cases, this happened when the plane was about ready to land and what should’ve been normal, ends up completely not so. fortunately, it appears no one has lost their life, which again seems miraculous. What gives me pause, is what miraculous things we take for granted every day. The very idea of flying, jumping in my car and driving cross country, more than I can use my phone, my computer, my iPad and speak with someone halfway around the world like they’re sitting across the table. Everything we do is so much more than what we realize. and yet, how do all these amazing things happen? It is because someone is willing to see more than, imagine more than, and attempt more than . . . There is always the question of when is fear wise and when does it paralyze? I know I struggle with this regularly. And in fact, I think today will be one of those days. I have to rethink some things, reimagine some things, and recalculate some things. But there are always options, and we just have to figure that out. There is always so much more to a picture than what we recognize, or maybe want to recognize. I am reminded of this reality in most every encounter, every mundane event, but to actually manage that it requires thought. It is, again, more than blowing along like a tumbleweed in on the Kansas prairie.

Everyday seems like there is something of significance. To say there has been a bit of shock and awe these past weeks might be a little understated, but it is our reality. The world is global and most of us merely try to go about our daily lives in our own little piece of it. It’s easy to want to isolate, to worry about our own issues, allowing all the other issues to fly by unnoticed, but there is always more than . . .

Thanks for reading,

Michael