Declaring an emergency

The commute home today was extra-long and for some agonizing reason, the southbound lanes of the tollway came to a screeching halt alongside O'Hare.  I had a perfect view of Terminal 5 and the conga line of wide-body aircraft getting ready for their return flights to Europe and Asia.  My inner airplane dork was more than satisfied.  Several of the planes belonged to Mother United, including several Boeing 777's.  In all likelihood, I'd probably flown on most of those planes.  My heavy flying days are on hiatus and I kind of miss it.  As I looked at that line of planes, my mind went back to a flight out of London Heathrow on one of those 777's...

It was several years ago and I was basically commuting to London.  I mostly took UA934 out of LAX and UA935 on the return.  The crews were pretty familiar to me and I had my routine.  Almost always seated on the aisle in 13B in Business Class.  It looked like this:

Yep, the old school Business Class seat on the old gray mare

This flight was no different.  UA935, the LHR-LAX nonstop.  I was in 13B.  It was a full flight, as I recall.  I didn't need a menu.  I knew I'd be eating chicken jeerza.  Say what you will about airline food but the Indian meals out of LHR weren't bad.  Anyway, shortly after take off, the guy next to me in 13A asked me if I could hear a hissing noise.  Sure enough, there was a pretty persistent hissing coming from one of the side panels but we didn't think much of it.  Well, I didn't.  About two hours into the flight, over the icy North Atlantic, I had finished my salad and my chicken jeerza had just been plated, when a series of chimes rang and a couple of lights illuminated at the Business Class Galley service center.  The purser who was serving our side of the cabin basically dropped what she was doing and bolted forward.  A few minutes later, there were more chimes and suddenly, several of the flight attendants headed forward while others stood at their jumpseats on the interphones. 

I've flown more than enough to know something was askew.  Suddenly that hissing noise didn't seem so innocuous anymore.  I also knew that this airplane was an amazing piece of technology.  My years of working for Boeing taught me that but that being said, something was up.  Now, all the flight attendants took positions at the head of each cabin.  Then, the captain came on and announced that we were suffering some "significant" issues with one of our two engines and that we were declaring an emergency and returning to London.  At that very moment, the cabin went dead silent.  Literally you could have heard a pin drop.  I was no longer interested in my chicken jeerza.  The captain then instructed us to listen to the instructions of the flight attendants.  Oh goodie...the purser then came on and explained that all services were terminated and that as she got more information from the captain, they would give us additional information.

Well, you've never seen a cabin of a 777 get cleaned up so fast.  My chicken jeerza, one bite gone, was snatched away from me.  At this point, I was fine with that.  So then began the longest 90 minutes of my life.  At about 45 minutes out, we had more announcements - we'd be making an emergency landing, and while it was expected to be normal, the flight attendants would be walking us through some information.  Like what to do if things weren't normal.  Lovely.  At about 30 minutes out, one of the flight attendants came up to me and 13A to ask us if we would help in the event they were incapacitated if (BIG IF) things weren't normal upon landing.  We both said yes and got a crash (ooh bad pun) course in the emergency instructions card.  Again, I noticed how stunningly quiet it was on this plane.  We only had one engine working so that made it even quieter.  I was never so glad to look out and see the green countryside of England. 

At about ten minutes out, we were told that there would be fire trucks following us upon landing but we shouldn't worry.  As if we hadn't been worrying for the last two hours.  We were also advised that they didn't think we'd have to assume the "brace" position either.  At that point, my mind was pretty much focused on what to do if things did go wonky upon landing.  I was certain I'd be getting out of that plane.  The last few minutes of approach were the longest.ever. 

That touchdown at LHR was the sweetest and smoothest ever.  Sure enough, a flotilla of fire trucks sped alongside us as we made our way to a "safe" area off the runway.  Once we stopped, there was some clapping.  A couple of minutes, we got the green light to leave the plane - via the stairs.  No slides for us.  We were walking off in one piece.

Suffice to say that flight was cancelled and I got another night in LHR on Mother United's dime.  It was a fun phone call home to the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML explaining why I was going to be a little tardy.  I got my chicken jeerza the next day on our rescheduled flight.  I was happy.

That trip down memory lane was courtesy of a traffic jam on the tollway today.  I miss those international trips.

Closing the gap

Today, our Church's weekly news publication, the Church News, arrived.  It was the 4 June issue.  For whatever reason, it takes three, count 'em three, weeks for the current issue to get to us here in the Midwest from the Mother Ship in Salt Lake City.  Seriously, USPS, three weeks.  And you wonder why you continue to run a deficit in the billions!  Anyway, this week's issue featured more new Mission President's who will begin their three-year service in July.  I was delighted to see that one of my companions from my mission service more than 25 years ago has been called to serve as a Mission President.  We were Zone Leader's together and then he succeeded me as an Assistant when I went home.  I was not at all surprised to see him called to this incredible service.  He was amazing then and it's obvious he still is.

When I think about his being called to this service, I realize that I've got so much growing and learning to do in this life.  I've been in a bit of an introspective mood this week.  I've been thinking about the gaps, or should I say chasms, that separate me from the person I am and the person I should be.  I think it was brought on by last Sunday's change in our Bishopric.  I was released as a 2nd Counselor and called as 1st Counselor.  I'm serving with these great men:

I'm really grateful for their tutelage and mentoring.  And I'm even more grateful for their patience.  I'm looking forward to continuing to serve and to learn.


So, I've got some work to do on closing the gaps referenced above.  I realize that I'm in control of getting it done.  That makes it all the more interesting, right?

The Library

There's something about a stack of books that I can't resist.  I like the tactile sensation of opening a book, rustling its pages, and pondering where that read will take me.  It's no wonder that I like libraries.

Libraries have changed.  A lot.  It's kind of, no, it's totally distressing that some libraries have DVD/CD sections that are bigger than their book sections.  But it's still comforting to see the reference sections, the periodical sections with creepy and unexplainable titles like "Cat Fancy," and posters that explain the nearly dead Dewey Decimal System.  There's something comforting about old Dewey  C'mon, my fellow word nerds, you know what I'm talking about!

I don't get to our local library enough.  It's been way too easy to buy a book via Amazon or even quicker getting it on my Kindle.  The sagging bookshelves in my office are a testament to my love of books.  But with the impending wedding of Our Lady of BYU and Awesome, I need to rethink my discretionary purchases, so I'm laying off buying books and taking advantage of the library.

Here's what I'm reading now as a result of my run to the library this afternoon:
1861: The Civil War Awakening - Adam Goodheart - reading this to continue feeding my Lincoln obsession
Googled - Ken Auletta - reading this because, after all, won't we all be bowing at the altar of Google soon?
747: Creating the World's First Jumbo Jet - Joe Sutter - needing to feed my inner airplane dork something awful
Rough Stone Rolling - Richard Bushman - a 'cultural' history of Joseph Smith.  The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML gave me this for Father's Day.  Perfect timing after the Nauvoo trip.

Anything else I should be reading?  Let me know.  Leave a comment with your suggestions.

Faith in every footstep

As noted in my previous post, the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML and had the 'opportunity' to travel with the youth from our local congregation, or stake, to the former swamp known as Nauvoo, IL for their annual youth conference.  We left bright and early Thursday morning and returned late last night.  I'd like to take a moment for a bit of self-congratulation for the uber-wise decision to drive our own car.  I'll say nothing more of that.

The three days really were amazing.  I'd not had an opportunity to see the historical sites of Nauvoo in my previous visits and I was in awe.  Nauvoo's significance in the history of the Church of Jesus Christ cannot be downplayed.  It was a gathering place, a place of refuge, a tremendous place of learning, and a place of epic spiritual outpouring.  Spending time in that city gave me a sense of what happened there and filled me with a sense of awe as I thought about those who lived there at that time.  These were people who had just joined the Church and whose faith carried them through tremendous trial and tragedy.  As we walked through the Old Nauvoo Cemetery after hearing some amazing stories about people buried there, I was humbled to think of what these early Saints gave as they truly moved with "faith in every footstep.'

It was at that point on Saturday that I began to think of my late father.  In his own way, Dad was a pioneer.  Now, he didn't walk from his childhood home in Philadelphia, PA to Utah.  He drove an old Chevy.  And he wasn't fleeing religious persecution and extermination orders; he was looking to make some coin during the summer.  But that quest for cash led him to my mom and eventually, his conversion to the Gospel.  He blazed a new trail as a member of the Church and set in motion so many great things.  Many of those great things have come my way and on this Father's Day, as I reflect on him and all that he did, I am grateful.  He was a good, good father.  I miss him.  Today especially.

I'm trying, daily, to be the man, husband, and father that he would have me be.  Those are big shoes to fill.  There's a reason I refer to my wife as "stunningly patient."  Fortunately, she gets me and is helping to make a better man.  I'll get there someday.