Pilots and Pioneers of Dreams

I came across a fascinating admission today in a favorite poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…”

My thoughts are right now with my dear and close friend, Lia, who tragically lost her husband David just four weeks ago to a massive and sudden heart attack. We are kindred spirits in many ways, and I grieve with her, not only in her loss, but for all the moments and experiences that lie ahead for her, shadows that surprise with their sharp stabs, unwitting wounds, and raw encounters with the deepest emotions, tears that never seem to stop, a loss that never fully goes away.

But life is filled with serendipities, and the toast Bill and I celebrated with every breath, “Here’s to whatever comes next!” was our open-hearted embrace of the true adventure of life.

As I read the words of the poem, I realized for perhaps the first time, that I am more in love with Bill now, even than when he was alive on this earth. Crazy? Imagination? Not at all. Elizabeth Barrett sums up her soliloquy on love with this conclusion

“…and, if God choose, I shall but love thee

better after death.”

How can that be? It’s simpler than you might imagine. Now the freedom in loving is limitless. No longer distracted with human frailties and failings, or the notches etched on those superficial goalposts of worldly achievement, we are free to love our man as he truly is. The intrinsic Bill, glowing and alive with all the qualities I loved and admired so much. Dancing and fully alive in the presence of God, exploring the universes with Jesus as his guide. Courageous, sensitive, creative, spontaneous, exuberant, warm, and loving. Freed from the restraints of this earth life.

I can’t answer for those with different eyes of faith, but Lia and I both know where our guys are. Blazing new trails in the spirit life, beckoning us onward and upward. Will we be reunited in marriage? Not at all. That is but a shadow of the life to come, a glimpse of the sacred romance that God is calling us to. But the communion of soulmates and like-minded spirits may well continue in God’s eternal kingdom. What we experience here is a mere foreshadowing of what’s to come.

So I think more these days of the lessons Bill patiently tried to teach me. I was often a stubborn student. Inclined to be rebellious to instruction and discipline. I’m beginning to appreciate the finer points of his gentle coaching, his living example, quietly fulfilling his God-assigned mission to train me up to fly solo and launch off into the wild blue with confidence and the ability to make wise decisions.

The October copy of Sport Aviation magazine has an article on the 'Pilot Personality.'

Bill was the advanced version of all their descriptions. His internal clock could tell you the time, night or day, to within a few minutes. Reading the weather was second nature, and he could explain weather systems and clouds and ground fog better than most meteorologists. While filled with dreams and a continual quest for adventure, he always faced the reality of life, with a contingency plan for every “What If” situation.

‘Pilots scan people as if they were instruments; they draw conclusions at a glance, rather than relying on long and emotion-laden conversations.’ Yes, he was astute at summing people up, giving more attention to those who were genuine, regardless of their station in life.

People who talked about themselves a lot were his pet peeve, and he was never impressed with those who self-promoted. He could relate equally to a housekeeper as to a President of a foreign country. Perhaps because he treated each of them as a person of value. Where else do we read about that example?? No wonder God figured he was ready to move on to the next level.

And so I think about Lia’s husband, David. Humble, self-effacing, modest. He was a quiet doer of the Word with a heart of gold, willing to help anyone without ever asking for anything in return, and never counting the cost. I don’t know anyone who worked as hard as David, sacrificing all for his family and the dreams of his two sons.

He quietly believed in them, never demanding the moon, but always encouraging them to strive for excellence with patience and diligence. And their individual accomplishments to date have been nothing short of astonishing.

Mentoring others is a quiet calling. God whispers His wisdom in the secret places, choosing those who love to watch others grow and take flight. “Trust the wings you have been given,” Bill’s words echo in my heart. “You do know how to fly.”

The Stolen Regatta

I glance at the scary Halloween face in the mirror. Who invited you? – and you’re way too early, too. Puffy balloon eye, looking out through a mere slit. Frankenstein would be proud.

Let’s back up to a prettier scene. Early morning fog hovering over a glassy lake. Canadian geese drift past boats rocking gently at anchor. Trees illuminated with fall colors glow with an inner light, hinting of stories to be told around evening firesides.

The crisp air is moist and sensuous. The Wanderin’ Star strains at her mooring, eager to slip away and cut a quiet wake through the dark water on a new voyage of discovery.

Charlie and I swab the decks, easy teamwork. The white fiberglass gleams as duck poop is washed off, splashing overboard. Charlie pulls on the motor start cord, and we find the first challenge of the day. No compression on the first half of the pull. The cord still seems to be attached, but we can’t get it to start. Fortunately we’re early, way ahead of our crew. We hike to the yacht club for some advice. Rick Smith, Vice Commodore, has seen this before, and tells us what to try next. We register, grab a cup of coffee and a donut, and return to the boat. We are blessed. Rick’s advice works like a charm, and the Wanderin’ Star is soon sliding across the foggy water and ties up at the yacht club, in a good position to start the regatta. Just one of the many reasons I am so glad to have joined the yacht club. They are a great bunch of people, and offer a wonderful support network.

The new JaM fleet at the Harbor Island Yacht Club – for novices to racing and those looking for more laid back fun – has an enthusiastic turnout of 10 boats. The two other fleets of seasoned racers are asked to treat us kindly!

Dayle, with crew Cam, Diedrick, and Charlie on the Wanderin' Star

Not much wind today, but we’re all eager to get out on the lake. My first regatta in eons, a new adventure in my role as captain without Bill. Many years ago, son James had flown out from California regularly to help us race our Hobie 16 on Percy Priest Lake, but in those days I was just crew, not strategist. I had corralled a keen crew of three young guys in their twenties – Cam Cook, Charlie Huling, and Diedrick Woodard. All willing to learn and have fun together.

I put Charlie, the most experienced, at the helm so I could train Cam and Diedrick to run the sails, and we cast off. Still cold, the sleepy motor took a notion to quit as we slid past boats at anchor. Instinctively, Charlie pulled hard on the cord, and in one of those moments of bad timing, I found myself too close as his long arm extended backwards. Pop! His elbow cracked me fair and square in the left eye.

Never one to wimp out, I wasn’t about to cancel our day’s sailing for a black eye.

I iced it to stop any swelling, but a short time later, when I blew my nose, the picture changed. My eye felt sudden pressure, moved in the socket and instantly swelled shut. Not so good! Hmm, sorry guys. I think I should get this checked out. From many years as a Vet Tech, I knew that eye problems should be addressed quickly to avoid permanent damage. I needed perfect vision for all the adventures that lay ahead in life. How could I fly with only one eye?

Charlie turned the boat around, and the guys were wonderful, willing to do whatever I needed. Maybe I could go to a walk-in clinic, and be back on the lake in time to start our race. About that time the boat slid to a halt. “Oh!” Charlie said. “I think we’ve run aground.” While I hadn’t been paying attention, on entering the harbor he had missed going between the red and green markers. Certain death on this harbor entrance. I knew that only too well.

I called Gene Lovelace, our JaM Fleet Captain, on my cell phone.

“Gene. I have two problems. I’ve injured my eye and need to get it looked at. And we just ran aground and need a tow!”

This was turning into quite a day! Novice indeed. How many years had I been sailing??

Frazier soon showed up in the Committee Boat and towed us all the way back to our own dock. God bless this club! Bill and I never had this luxury in all the years we sailed the Wanderin’ Star and ran our boat charters. Frazier took one look at my eye, and declared I should go to the emergency room at Summit immediately.




My crew has a sense of humor!

So here I am at the hospital, chaperoned by Cam and Diedrick, while Charlie stayed behind to pack up the sails and the boat. I tell you, these guys are keepers. The best crew and the best friends you could find anywhere. I just hate it that they had to miss sailing in the regatta on this picture perfect fall day. Sadly, this would be no quick fix and a return to the lake. Perforated sinus, slight abrasion to the cornea, and an eye now puffed up with air like a blow fish.



The best news (in a twisted sort of way!), when we returned to the Wanderin’ Star three hours later, was that a complete lack of wind had caused the Race Committee to cancel the regatta. No-one got to race that day. We hadn’t missed a thing. A disappointment for all – but it did absolve my guilt for my keen crew. Fellow JaM fleeter, and New Member Liaison Judy Netherton, in her brand new Catalina 22, complete with her hot shot race crew and a boat load of champagne, was reportedly still out on the lake, catching the light airs regardless. Can’t say as I would do any different!

So…to another day…and to whatever comes next – if you dare!

Italian Culture Meets the County Fair

A Southern Belle dressed for the fair

An email announcing the arrival of my friend, Laura, from Milan, Italy, recently sent me scurrying for some varied activities for the weekend. The Wilson County Fair was a long way removed from the sophisticated life of this friend who married countries rather than men. First France, then Italy. But I knew she began life as a GRIT – a Girl Raised In The South. Maybe her early years in Charleston, South Carolina would reveal an appreciation for the simpler life

…so straight from the airport to the fair we went.



Laura steps back in time



Dayle's agricultural college training kicks in

It was a steamy, hot August night, the kind etched in our memories by Neil Diamond's serenades.


Julie & Laura both true patriots


Meeting up with two friends, we found a childlike enjoyment in such simple things as climbing aboard an old antique tractor, cheering pigs and ducks racing around a track,
watching sheep dog trials.

Mesmerized, we watched hands shaping wet clay on a potter's wheel. A Percheron horse plodded obediently on a wooden ramp, hitched to an ice cream churn, and our wait was rewarded when we stood outside the old barn dipping spoons into a shared cup of creamy homemade ice cream. Nothing ever tasted so good!

When did we lose touch with the quiet, steady beat of the earth, or take time to watch the stars rotate across the sky marking the seasons? That night we met folk whose hands were rough from repairing farm ploughs, eyes crinkled from years in the sun, boots muddy with manure, hats oiled with the sweat of honest work. Friendly welcomes with sweet Southern charm, stories of families and home remedies, samplings of moonshine jelly, and the humid night dancing to the rhythm of Bluegrass fiddles and banjos.


 

The crowds jostled amongst all the food vendors. Fresh squeezed oranges,






Julie & Laura dip into the decadent funnel cake

 

butter dripping off ears of corn, powdered sugar mixed with the sweet, irresistible dough of hot funnel cakes.




Winning quilts each tell a story

 

Rides, sideshows, exhibit halls, arts and crafts. The fair was filled with prize-winning talent.

 




The fun of the fair is infectious for Julie B., Julie D. and Laura

 

It took us all back to our roots, days when the agricultural fair was the biggest deal of the year. Laura admitted in surprise “This reminds me of my childhood. It’s wonderful!”






The aristocratic Jacobin pigeon

 

We often hear Barred owls (Hoot owls) calling to each other on still nights



Before the birds went to roost for the night, we admired their feathered finery. My best friend Julie has her own bevy of colorful chickens, and we wandered through the parade of roosters, hens, ducks, geese, and pigeons, all dressed as though going to a ball.

It was a return for all of us to the earthy aroma of life, and we wandered the dusty roads in wide-eyed wonder, carefree kids on the loose.

We voted this corn Best of the Wilson County Fair

Thai Cooking With Penny



Penny's Thai dinners are legendary!



When a friend from long ago came back into town and offered to cook a Thai meal for her friends, we were only too willing to participate!

Penny has history with us all. For Bill and myself, it included an adventure down in the Florida Keys swimming with dolphins, followed by the most incredible dinner on the beach at a waterfront restaurant. Penny lives life in the fast lane, so it’s always fun to catch up with her again. And Thai food is her specialty.

Julie had complied with Penny's very detailed shopping list, and then the party began with various cooking assignments. Come along now and join in the fun! Your mouth will soon be watering!

I grew up with a mother who knew how to cook anything – her dishes were nothing short of miraculous. But the most intriguing thing about her recipe book, which I inherited when she passed away in 2007, was the scant detail on each page. As though all one needed to know were the basic ingredients. The directions might read “Make sauce, add chopped vegetables, cook very slightly, then add meat.” I’d learnt how to fill in the gaps and do a little improvising, which made cooking a lot of fun.

I pass on to you the same challenge. Experiment with taste, and add extra things if you have them in the fridge. Pretty soon you’ll find you’re the next Pioneer Woman blazing your own culinary trails. Don’t be afraid to experiment!



Scott, the master chef, grills the sirloin steak to perfection.

Sirloin Steak  Splash with fish oil, lime juice and crushed red peppers. Jab holes in the steak with a fork so all the good flavors soak in, then grill and slice into thin strips.




Ann chops the scallions for the chicken curry

Green & Red Curry
 
Dice chicken breasts, slice and dice onion and garlic, and cut snow peas into bite size segments. Heat oil in a pan (coconut, Asian or olive oil are the best choices).



Saute chicken and vegies. Add coconut milk, sliced bamboo shoots, a teaspoon of green and red curry paste, green beans, zucchini, Asian eggplant, long skinny Thai peppers, and red peppers. Add more curry to taste (that’s the fun part!).


Vegies cook in a wonderful curry broth



Taste testing is the best job, as Dayle discovers



Penny and Julie prepare the sirloin steak.


At this time I need to explain that all these assignments are going on simultaneously. How you organize your own grand master plan is up to you. Invite a bunch of good friends over, and it’s easy!

Thai Salad
Grated carrot, thin sliced onion, cucumber, cilantro leaves, scallions, and lots of lime juice. Add strips of the grilled sirloin steak and thinly sliced hot pepper, and wow! Do you have a great accompaniment to the chicken curry.

Serve the curry on a bed of rice, add the Thai salad, and now it's time to relax and enjoy.







The Thai dish is ready to eat!

  

To this I would add a bottle of crisp, white wine, and you have an awesome meal!

Penny has many more incredible recipes, but we'll just have to wait till she's back in town…

In fact, after reading this abbreviated version of her delicious masterpieces, she will probably fly in on the next whirlwind and chastise me for not giving you all the intricate and specific details of her cooking class. Not just any fish oil will do. And curry paste...there are different degrees of quality and heat. Did you get the right kind of Thai peppers? You get the idea. Maybe next time I will be put on shopping duty. Ah, perfection is in the details.

Apologies, folks. This is the relaxed Australian version.
Can I pour you a glass of wine?

Sky King Goes to Oshkosh

My husband, Bill Fergusson, was an Accidental Stunt Pilot – as I found out from his sister, Kay, over dinner one evening at the old family homeplace in Hendersonville, Tennessee.

Bill W. Fergusson II - Sky King Songbird pilot

It was back in the late Fifties, and Bill was working for Cessna Aircraft Company in Wichita, Kansas. As National Sales Manager for their new twin, the Cessna 310, Bill was constantly traveling, demonstrating their new airplane to potential customers all over the country. Nabisco, the sponsor of the popular TV series Sky King, approached Cessna about providing a new airplane for the series. The T-50 (the Bamboo Bomber) had been retired due to serious wear and tear in the main spar of the wing, and moves were afoot to begin filming a new series of episodes. Cessna jumped at the idea as a great way to promote their new twin, and agreed to provide the airplane at no cost for several weeks of filming.

Bill delivered a sparkling new Cessna 310B demonstrator to the filming site at Apple Valley, California. The stunt pilot next on the assignment list for the job was only a single engine pilot, so Bill was instructed to stay long enough to check the guy out for a twin engine rating, and then return to Wichita.
“He’s doing great,” Bill reported back to his boss, Frank Martin, “but I can’t sign him off. The insurance company would never approve it.”

“What do you mean?” his boss exploded.

“The flying involves landing on roads and dry lake beds, flying under bridges, and landing with both engines shut down. He’s just not up to that sort of flying yet. Maybe they can provide another pilot.”

The McGowan Brothers were already breathing down Martin’s neck, anxious to begin filming. Everyone’s blood pressure was rising.

“Well you stay and do the flying yourself,” Martin snapped, and slammed down the phone.

Bill soon discovered it was some of the most fun flying he had ever done since his military days. For two weeks his job was to be Kirby Grant, aka Sky King, wearing a big cowboy hat for close up shots behind the wheel of the airplane, and doing an intensive program of adventurous flying while the production company made up a film library of every imaginable sequence they needed for the upcoming series.

Fast forward to July 2011. The Fergusson clan is planning a trip to Oshkosh Airshow in Wisconsin – the first time for several members in the party of 8 (both friends & family). It was time for the world at large to learn more about the man who really did the flying for Sky King. So we made up special t-shirts featuring a picture of Bill with the Songbird, the Cessna 310 that became world famous, and what fun we had wearing them at the airshow and telling Bill’s story.




Son Dave Fergusson (L), widow Dayle Fergusson,
 brother Don Fergusson (R)

What a stroke of good fortune to find a Cessna 310D at Oshkosh, beautifully restored and actually claiming to be the third Songbird in the TV series Sky King. We had the natural backdrop for our photographic memento!

The "Real Sky King" crew with Songbird III
 (L to R - rear) Bari & Jamie Deaver, Stan & Callita Eason, Don Fergusson,
(L to R - front) Dave Fergusson, Dayle Fergusson, Barbara Fergusson.

Oshkosh AirVenture 2011 was an amazing affair. Picture the world’s largest airshow, where almost 14,000 airplanes had flown in, ranging from tiny ultralights to the Blue Angels’ F/A-18 fighter jets.

A sea of airplanes cover acres and acres of grass at Wittman Field, many with tents pitched under their wings. Whole sections of homebuilts, Warbirds, antique airplanes, ultralights & rotocraft, aerobatic planes, and even a special seaplane base, stretch in every direction.

B-25J Lady Luck

If one only had enough time, you could explore thousands of exhibitors, large exhibition halls, a Theatre in the Woods, the permanent AirVenture Museum, workshops, forums, kids’ activities, and author’s corners.



North American T-6 Advanced WWII Trainer



I was keen to buy the book The Barnstormer and the Lady – the story of Beechcraft founders Walter and Olive Ann Beech.



Dayle with Walter and Olive Ann's daughter, Mary Lynn Oliver,
and grandaughter Jennifer

In the early days of aviation in America, Wichita, Kansas was the home of several big aircraft manufacturers, including Cessna and Beechcraft. Bill had told me stories about the infamous Olive Ann, reknowned for her imperious demeanor and the colored flag displayed on her office door which gave fair warning whether it was safe to approach. If black, enter at one’s own risk! It was a thrill to personally meet Walter and Olive Ann’s daughter, Mary Lynn, and their grandaughter Jennifer, when Dave & I were strolling past the exhibits.

It seems I am constantly walking in Bill’s footsteps, shadowing the intriguing life he lived all over the globe, meeting people and connections from his illustrious past. He mentioned their names so casually, modest about his experiences, simply enjoying telling the stories. So many reasons I loved him so much.


Warbirds open the daily airshow at Oshkosh AirVenture 2011



The Aeroshell Aerobatic Team

Our first two days at Oshkosh were blessed with perfect temperatures in the mid-eighties. During the spectacular airshows each day, aerobatic planes trailed white plumes across midnight blue skies. Flights of Warbirds thundered overhead, the deep throated roar of their radial engines reverberating across our conscious memories.



Flying the knife edge down the runway




 

The Liberty Parachute Team dropped in to the strains of patriotic music

The camaraderie among pilots is like nothing experienced elsewhere. An inherent politeness and courtesy not found at other public gatherings. At every turn, someone was willing to share a story about a past flying connection or experience.



Saucy Burt Rutan design Long-EZs bask in the sun



Every stranger became a friend. The passion of thousands who had made the trek from all corners of the world had merged, and become the heartbeat of Oshkosh.







Gene Soucy with Wingwalker partner Teresa Stokes






Prototype Gweduck Amphibian

One afternoon, while looking for a shady spot to view the airshow, I was even offered fresh, ripe cherries and a chair under the wing of a prototype amphibious flying boat. This gracious group of guys from Seattle were displaying their prototype Gweduck, now being offered for sale in kit form. Its development had taken 19 years, and began with the ambition to build a flying boat without the problems of the Grumman Widgeon. It will be interesting to track their success.

Our house in Oshkosh

Rather than camping at the airfield, we rented a beautiful home in the town of Oshkosh, a more comfortable option in spite of the vicious little virus that ran its course through 7 out of 8 of us with violent vomiting and diarrhea like one of Pharoah’s plagues. Not quite the bonding experience we had anticipated!

Dave with the 1956 Aerocar - it still flies today!

Son Dave was thrilled when we found the strangest of flying contraptions that was surprisingly familiar to him.
The 1956 Aerocar N102D on display, one of only five ever built, and the only airworthy Aerocar in existence today, was once owned by TV personality Bob Cummings. When Dave was working for Gunnell Aviation at Santa Monica in the early Sixties, Bob flew in from Palm Springs one day, and wanted his car delivered to his home in the Hollywood Hills. After the wings were removed and stowed in a hangar, Dave was given the job of driving the wingless Aerocar to Bob Cummings’ home. Not many people could chalk up that experience!

Sam Johnson (Johnson Wax Co.) owned this Nomad N-22B
on Wipline floats

At Wipaire’s display tent I hopefully stopped to see if Bob Wiplinger was there. I first met Wippy in Australia – my first “date” with Bill, back in 1978, when he invited me to interview Bob as they prepared to announce the breaking news of the Australian Government Aircraft Factories (GAF) Nomad twin turboprop receiving North American certification on floats. The N-22B was being equipped with Wipline floats, and I had first shot at the breaking story for Australia’s premier aviation magazine. It was a marker moment in my career. Regretfully, at Oshkosh 2011 I would miss Wippy by a day.


1929 Waco Taperwing


We couldn’t resist a walk through the antique aircraft on our last day, wishing we could stay longer. The line up of gleaming metal and taut skin on the restored airplanes from yesteryear almost brought tears to our eyes. The early history of aviation kept alive by passionate aviators. Dave and I both relived recollections from Bill’s early days. “Paw loved the Waco. It was one of his favorite airplanes.” The Stearman – the early WWII trainer, that Bill flew when based at Selma, Alabama, was beautiful in its original colors of blue and yellow.

Tents pitched under the wings, the simplicity of life, the essence of freedom.



Pilot camping beside 1953 Tripacer

 
It’s hard to describe the pulse that throbs in every lover of flight when surrounded by these amazing flying machines. Antoine de Saint-Exupery expressed the flight of the soul of a man thus…

…The wind of the Spirit, blown from the stars, enters the sand of the physical body and life begins anew. In our very essence we are all Wind, Sand, and Stars.