Bucket List Completed – Whoopeeee!

Graduation from college was history. My first “adult” job was a reality. Springfield, IL was the new address for this excited human. What more could any twenty-three-year-old want? A “Wish List,” however, became a reality.

The first weeks, as a teacher, were extremely challenging for many reasons. Daily, as I walked the mile or so to school, I would anticipate great experiences and joyful learning by my thirty-eight or so fourth graders. Then class began, and reality set in. Discouragement, lack of excitement, several students with severe learning problems, and total lack of experience by this novice teacher, made the day a huge mountain to climb.

Three-thirty would arrive and the trudge home, on weary feet, brought tears to my eyes. What could I possibly do to right this miserable experience? My contract demanded I repeat this daily pattern for another hundred plus days. Misery was my middle name.

One day, as I pondered on my walk, an idea became clear – start a “Wish List”. Two items immediately popped onto the list. Despite what friends might anticipate, the wish list consisted of 1) milking a cow and 2) flying a plane. A crazy list of items from a crazy lady, is all I can say. 1976 provided a solution to item #1. A special day was scheduled for Sandburg School. Many unique, hands on, early day activities were a part of the bicentennial celebration. Would you believe it? There in the parking lot was a lovely, warm-looking cow, just waiting to be milked.

As a friend of the principal, I was allowed to sit on the tiny stool, reach under our borrowed cow, and make “three squirts” into the milk bucket. My experience was limited, due to the fact that probably 200 plus little boys and girls would also want to join me in the cow milking dream.

Number one bucket list item accomplished. Now, on to number two dream — control a plane over the “fruited plains” and through the clouds. As years slipped by, that bucket list faded in my memory. Occasionally, while riding in a plane, the dream would float through my brain, but reality reminded me of the near impossibility of achieving this dream. Then . . .

One evening I received a call from a friend. She had recently married a wonderful fellow who just happened to own a plane. Yes, a little plane in which three or four people could ride. The words over the phone shocked me. Was I hearing correctly?

An invitation was offered to meet them at the airplane hangar early one evening after they finished work. (One of us had been retired for many years.) We were going to prepare the plane, take off, and fly about sixty miles to Bloomington, IL airport. Dinner was on the agenda when we landed, and then of course, a flight back to Springfield.

My first thrill came quickly. The pilot invited me to sit in the co-pilot chair. The view, as we took off, was wonderful as I watched the runway flash by. I quickly scanned the instrument panel, and a panoply of lights, dials, and buttons added total confusion to my untrained eyes. As we lifted off, I began to realize that this evening presented an extremely different air experience. Although my job required many, many flights over the years, none of them provided me with this up close and personal ride. I was thrilled.

The sky was blue. The air was calm, and then it happened. The pilot turned to me and said, “Go for it. You are in control.” He swiftly pointed out important items on the cluttered instrument panel and asked me to gently hold the “steering wheel”.

As my heart almost beat out of my chest, he explained that it was essential to know where I was going. Directing my attention to the Interstate 55 below, he suggested I keep my eye on it and proceed in a northerly direction. Well, that didn’t seem too bad. I had driven that road umpteen times with my BMW.

But, oh! No! He then commented that one little, nameless dial was crucial. I must keep my eye on it, in order to know that the plane was not flying upside down. I quickly realized that if I touched the controls ever so slightly, the plane smoothly changed direction swiftly.

How in the world could I keep an eye on the highway, an eye on the instrumental panel, and even begin to enjoy the scenery? My heart was beating over time, while the hands gripped the “steering wheel” with strength I knew not that I had. In my spare moment, a small prayer was sent upward, requesting the Lord to allow the three of us to return safely to a runway.

Shortly the lights of B-N appeared, and my friend took over the controls. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. As we taxied in, he and his wife explained that we would be having a bite to eat right there at the airport.

Time to return arrived, as darkness was approaching. Don gently, but ever so competently, brought us off again, into the “wild blue yonder.” We circled over the numerous wind turbines that were gently turning in the air.

Then it happened again. “Your turn.” With mixed feelings of joy and apprehension, I became the assistant pilot. Darkness prevented me from viewing my map, the highway below. A new method for direction must be established. Yes, yes. I was told to focus on a bright light miles away and hold the plane steady. Eventually we would need to swing a bit to the West, to land at our airport. By this time, the “pro” found herself easily focusing on the dashboard light and the bright light on the horizon.

As the airport runway lights came into view, once again, the official, licensed pilot took over. Taxing back toward the hanger, and then climbing out of my special seat of honor, I smiled, and thought, “How great to accomplish #2 item on my bucket list. What a wonderful first-time adventure.”

I graciously thanked my wonderful friends, drove home slowly, anticipating opportunities to share my one and only piloting opportunity.