... On 37

A lot can change in two years. The last time I put together a post like this, I was in a decidedly morose state of mind. "The future doesn't feel quite as exciting as I used to believe it to be," I wrote on September 19, 2010 on my 35th birthday, with a self-photo taken at my desk that was all-too reflective of my overall mood.

Things are a bit better today.

As the first full year of what I hope will continue to be a fairly successful freelance writing career nears the end, I'm celebrating my most lucrative month ever. I billed close to $2,000 more in November than in my next-best month, back in February. Freelancing is always a feast-or-famine proposition, and December is usually slow... but I'm happy (and still amazed) to note that even my "worst" month of 2012 still gave me more than what I made at the old office job. I'm also happy to note that I've diversified my client base, with assignments from several new companies and, most notably, Aviation International News.

Even if the Great Freelance Writing Experiment crashes down tomorrow, I'll have no regrets in opting to pursue this full-time. It's incredibly vindicating to be paid for doing something you love doing anyway. I just need to be careful not to burn out.

Unlike the last time I made my living in aviation, though, there are ways for me to enjoy that outside of my job. At this writing - which comes over eight months since my last post, eep - I've also accumulated 26.7 hours as pilot-in-command of Remos N28GX, including a Class C checkout by Jim Crone, my CFI in Florida, who had the time to fly with me while traveling through the Land of Enchantment on his way back home to Seattle.

After that flight on May 1, my first "long" cross-country was from Santa Fe down to Belen (E80) and back. That was also my first trip there since I soloed back in July 2004; it was amazing how familiar it felt to be back in the pattern again, this time without an instructor onboard or even watching me from the ground.

I've also flown down to have breakfast at the Bombing Range Cafe at Double Eagle II (AEG) and I've done three sets of touch-and-goes at the Sunport (ABQ.) I even, finally, made it to Moriarty. I've taken friends (and Mom) out to Cabezon Peak, and I've helped encourage another as he makes his way through flight training. Seeing Ray make his first solo two weeks ago was one of the highlights of my year. I'm looking forward to taking mountain flight training next year.

Being a regular visitor up to SAF has also allowed me to ingratiate myself into the local airport community, as a member (and soon-to-be Secretary) of the Aviation Association of Santa Fe. One of the major tasks ahead is helping to come up with projects to build enthusiasm for the airport in the community - a daunting task, but also a challenge I'm looking forward to, and trying to meet with an open mind.

Another highlight this year was being published in a book published by the Omaha World-Herald newspaper. The compilation "At War At Home: The Cold War" assembled stories about area residents who played a part in forming the nation's post-World War II defense network, as well as those who fought in Korea and Vietnam. My Aunt Peg let us know about the book earlier this year, enough time for me to write a short feature about my Grandpa Darmody and his work with SAC and the ballistic missile program.

It's only one-third of a page, but it matters to us. Mom put it best: it's gratifying to know that even a brief history of her father's contributions is now recorded in a place outside the family. It was also a fitting postscript, as she and I finally made it up to Omaha in August, so we could see the final resting places of my Grammie (below) and my Grandpa Sayers.

This year also witnessed a family move, into a house that - despite many faults and flaws - I could actually see owning someday. It's the first actual house that's been in my name, and while it's a rental for now, and I doubt this would be the one I'd buy... just the fact I'm thinking like that tells me I have a more 'grown-up' outlook on my life than I have had before. I guess that comes from having a family to take care of in the first place.

So, all in all... 2012 has been a pretty good year. I also have precious little to complain about at three months in to my 37th time around the sun. I'm grateful for my live today, in part because I know how fleeting such things can be. There are no guarantees that 2013 or 38 will be as kind, so I have to appreciate it all while I can.

And I am.

'Bout Damn Time!

I've been pretty lax with posting on this site lately, but at least I can honestly say that's been for very good reasons. So, there's that. 

Since February 3rd, I've been making a living solely through my freelance writing. I'm extremely fortunate that, so far, business has been booming. It felt like quite a leap to leave the office life behind once again, particularly when you never know for certain when your next check will come in the mail. Again, I'm very lucky to have a regular, steady client that keeps me busy, while also allowing me some time to pursue other clients, as well as own my personal goals.

About those goals. If you've been following this blog for awhile, you might recall that I earned my Sport Pilot certificate (don't call it a license) back in April 2008. Three months later, I flew a Gobosh 700S (below) from Denver's Centennial Airport (KAPA) to Moline, Illinois (MLI) with stops in Hastings, Nebraska (KHSI) and Shenandoah, Iowa (KSDA.) It was 10 hours and 667 nautical miles of fun, exhaustion and education. Along for the ride was Dave Graham, who at the time was a VP at Gobosh Aviation (he's since moved on to American Legend, hawking very nice Cub clones) and was on his way back home. It was the most substantial chunk of PIC time (for pilot in command) I'd been able to log up to that point; I swore it was only the beginning.

Fast forward to March 2012... and I haven't flown as PIC since that trip. As they say, life gets in the way. For starters, there had been no light sport aircraft to rent anywhere near Albuquerque; the closest plane, an Evektor, was up in Farmington. That was probably for the best, though, since I hardly had any extra money to spend flying anyway.

That situation began to improve last summer, though. I learned that an outfit up at Santa Fe Municipal Airport (KSAF) was offering a Remos GX for training and rentals. By this time the "freelancing gig" was starting to take off, though there were other priorities before I could take the time to start flying again. At this point, I was also convinced I'd need to go through flight training all over again, since it had been so long since I'd flown. I had less than 15 hours since earning my certificate.

By mid-March, however, I'd decided to just go ahead and do it. Recreational flying is not a very practical activity; there's always something better, more necessary, or more practical you need your money to go towards. But it had been too long... and if I didn't take the chance now, I could see a time 10 years from now when I'd wish I had. So, I emailed Michael at New Mexico Sport Aviation, and asked if I could spend some time going over my plan. 

Michael and I met on a Tuesday. He quickly allayed my concerns about how long I'd need to regain currency. A pilot certificate never expires, per se; you just need to remain healthy enough to fly, and pass a biennial flight review. In addition to owning NM Sport Aviation and Remos N28GX, Michael is also a CFI, so he could administer my flight review while also checking me out on his aircraft. We set a timetable: he said it would take three flights, I thought it would be closer to five.

It only took three, and it probably could have been less than that if I'd been more brave. For our first flight, on that same Tuesday, we took the plane out to the practice area southwest of SAF and puttered around the sky for a half-hour or so. My only goal for that flight was to get up in the air again, and become more familiar with the Remos. 

That short flight was more than enough to convince me that I wanted to do more - just not on that day - so we scheduled another flight for the following Thursday. This time, Michael had me demonstrate stalls, slow flight, and emergency procedures, before shooting a series of touch-and-goes at SAF. That was another 1.4 hours in the book... and after we shut down, he said our next meeting could be the flight review. One week later, that review passed without incident, and on April 5th I officially became a pilot again.

Since then, I've taken the Remos up solo for some intensive pattern work - 1.1 hours, 10 takeoffs and landings. I plan to head out to the practice area next week to practice maneuvers, followed by a cross-country down to Moriarty (0E0.) Why? Because although I've been to Moriarty more times than I can count... I've never flown there.

That pretty much brings us up-to-date on things so far. I do plan to start posting here more frequently, and I have a new incentive to do it - my new business website, www.robfinfrock.com. "Approach Lights" will still be my personal creative outlet, one that I hope might gain a new following through the business site. We shall see! (If you're reading this post after coming here from my other site, please leave a comment and tell me what you think!)

Until next time --

Rob

The Seconds of December

A time comes for everyone when they realize that they're pretty much the person they will always be for the rest of their life. Their mindset has been determined, their preferences and prejudices largely etched in stone, when they realize they're no longer particularly eager to have their mind changed about anything, and they're unlikely to let anyone new get too close to the life they've created for themselves.

I came to that realization this year, at the relatively tender age of 36. I think I'm okay with that, because I'm reasonably and thankfully content with who I am today. I've had some professional successes this year, that helped me realize some personal goals as well. I endeavor for more - better health, less weight, greater recognition - but I also appreciate that all victories are fleeting, so I'm trying to hold onto what I've been able to muster for as long as I can.

I also realize I've also cast off valuable and important aspects of who I once was along the way. I used to have a much greater sense of whimsy than I do now. I used to have much more faith and compassion for other people than I do today. Make no mistake, I fight vehemently and passionately to defend and care for those closest to me... but that circle has grown far smaller than it once was, with past friends and even some family members cast out. My requirements for access to that circle are far more stringent and jaded than they once were.

It wasn't always like that. There was a time when I gladly -- eagerly -- wore my heart on my sleeve, and believed in the overall decency and competence of others at first blush. This was an incredibly naive world view, as is typical when you're fresh out of high school... and I was fortunate to find someone who was very eager to recognize those qualities, and who embraced them and loved them with all of her might.

Today's her birthday.

You still feel her hand on your cheek as you said those words for the first time
And you still feel the pain from the first realization you'd lied
She was gentle when you wanted rough; so inviting but still not enough
Before too long you gave into your demons and cast the angel aside

I wrote those ridiculously overwrought, post-teen-angst-y sentences around 15 years ago, after I realized it still pained me a bit too much to look at the calendar in early December. I've written here about her before; I'm also pretty sure it was her that I saw in a Dillard's ad while thumbing absent-mindedly through the Dallas Morning News one day in 2006.

Facebook is nothing less than the modern-day equivalent of the biblical Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. As it was in Genesis, its apples are far too easy to pick; all it takes is a simple word search. For whatever reason, a few months ago I decided to reach out for the forbidden fruit.

Maiden name... no hits. 

Wait. What was the name of the guy she was seeing? Try that...

Oh. Wow.

Married. One son, and another child on the way.

And... a flight attendant for Southwest. I admit that I smiled a bit at that; it would appear she found her calling among the clouds, too. For some reason, that made me very happy.

I briefly considered sending her a message on Facebook. It would have been purely a casual thing, a "hey, I see you're on here, too!" sort of note, the kind of breezy greeting one might send a former classmate. I thought about it... but of course, that would have been a terrible idea. Our moment together was fleeting; her life today is her own, and I have no right or place whatsoever to intrude upon that.

I'm genuinely glad that she appears happy, as well. Everything turned out the way it was destined to... but, there's also a part of my consciousness that recognizes I'm really not as okay with all of this as I should be, 18 years later.

You're sure she's doing well now and you're hardly a thought in the air
Just a midsummer's fling that lasted through spring and time passes when you're not aware
Still you know that you live in her shadow, and you're forever cursed to care
And count all the seconds of December that she's not there

The Karma Kar

Big news! An abbreviated version of this blog post ran on the popular automotive site "The Truth About Cars" on October 23, 2010. Not so big news! A poster to that forum correctly pointed out Mazda never offered a six-speed manual with the V6 engine - it was a five-speed I almost bought. Those who know me well know how much that relatively minor oversight bugs the heck out of me... RF


I fully intended to buy a new car on August 26, 2006. A loaded Mazda 6S Grand Touring with the 6-speed manual, Dark Cherry Red over beige leather, with in-dash CD changer and moonroof. I justified the extravagance as a reward to myself for getting through the last seven months following a health scare. Diagnosed with testicular cancer that January, I had been extremely fortunate in the time since the initial surgery. Monthly observation scans had shown no additional tumors, which meant no radiation or chemo.


The deal wasn't done that Saturday, though. The dealer's numbers were still a bit too high for my tastes, so I left that day in my Grand Am. I wasn't too worried, as I expected the dealer to come around in a day or two. The plan changed two days later, during the monthly consult with my oncologist.


I was still a nervous patient, and I sweated each CT, X-ray, blood test, and follow-up. Dr. Bhogaraju was extremely understanding of that fear, and it was his custom to greet me with the reassuring statement "you're OK." He didn't say it that day.


Instead, my latest CT had revealed an 8 mm growth on my left lung, and inflamed lymph nodes nearby. "We need to run some more tests," said Dr. B. "It's rare for TC to spread to the lungs, but it's possible. I'm recommending a PET scan, which will show us how 'hot' the inflammations are. We'll take it from there."


In the middle of all this was that red Mazda. Sure enough, the dealer did call that afternoon to say essentially, "you win." But now I was in no condition at all to buy a new car. In a daze, I told the salesman it looked like my cancer had come back, and I was not willing to sign my life away to anything for another five years.


Days without action turned into weeks, as my insurance company was reluctant to approve the expensive PET scan. I was a nervous wreck. A second CT was approved, and it showed the lung nodule had grown to 10 mm. My oncologist pushed for a surgical biopsy, and starting talking about the possibility of going on chemotherapy.


"But this could still be nothing," he told me more than once. The one positive was, my blood work showed no tumor markers... but that wasn't a guarantee it wasn't cancer. I didn't believe him. I felt I had already used up my positive karma for the year.


I come from an extremely close family. My mother planned to come to Dallas to stay with me during the surgery, and for however long after. This posed a problem; she couldn't drive my 5-speed Pontiac, and I certainly didn't want her renting a car for what could be a months-long stay. There was probably a better, cheaper solution to that quandary, but my addled mind couldn't grasp it... so, in mid-September I called the Mazda dealership again and asked about an automatic-equipped 6.


As it happened, there were several loaded models available with automatics. The dealer was even willing to 'split the difference' for the additional cost of the auto. Fear about my medical situation, however, instilled a newfound frugality. I told my salesman I wanted only a base V6 with an automatic. No sunroof, cloth seats.


I drove off the dealership the evening of September 16 with a Pebble Ash Metallic 6S, and a sense of resignation. I looked back sadly at my still-pristine Grand Am as I left. It had been the first car I'd purchased with the exact equipment I wanted -- the only Navy Blue 5-speed SE1 to be found in the entire DFW metroplex -- versus the compromise I now owned.

But the funny thing is... this story isn't really about that.


*****


My new license plates arrived at the dealership on September 28. The dealer still owed me the delivery prep car wash -- it had been too late for the detail area to clean the car when I bought it -- so I made an afternoon of it. By that time, Blue Cross had finally approved the PET scan, for the first week in October. I was existing in a dream-like state, detached from my surroundings.


As I waited on the showroom floor for my car to come out of the service lane, one of the sales managers walked up to me. "Hey, got a second?"


We chatted a bit about the new showroom fixtures being installed at the dealership, as per Mazda dictate ("I think it's all just a way for Mazda to sell furniture," he quipped.) After a moment, he lowered his voice.


"Just so you know... I went through what you're now going through about 10 years ago," he said. It took me a second to understand what he was talking about. "TC. I had it, and had my last round of chemo right before my 35th birthday."


He told me about his experience. How he discovered he had it, and how it affected him. He told me about the "fucking asshole" urologist who had told him "he had good news and bad news"... where the good news was it was treatable. And he answered my questions... all of which were much more personal than the typical "car salesman/customer" relationship normally allows. 


He told me about his experience being on chemo... the hair loss ("I looked like Grasshopper from the Kung Fu movies"), the sickness, the smell. "And here it is 10 years later -- I got testicular cancer before it was 'cool' -- and I'm doing fine. It's never come back."


I was dazed. He didn't have to say anything; it's not a story a lot of men feel comfortable sharing with a stranger. Instead he chose to share his story, because he felt it would help me. And it did. I drove off the dealership lot that day more confident -- more heartened -- than I had felt since August 28.


Describing the experience to my friends and family later, I could only think of one phrase to capture that feeling. Though I am not particularly religious -- that was especially true at that time -- I felt that God spoke in that moment.


All because I bought a car... three weeks later than I'd planned to.


*****


By divine intervention or just sheer luck, from that day onward... things started looking up. The PET was encouraging; the lung nodule had not increased further in size, and two of the three lymph nodes had actually shrunk. A surgical biopsy October 11 confirmed it wasn't cancer; this was all due to a comparatively minor respiratory infection. Antifungals cleared it up.


It wasn't cancer. "I told you it was probably nothing," Dr. B said, grinning, at my next consultation. "By the way, did you ever get that car?"


My 'Karma Kar' just turned 40,000 miles last week, eight days shy of four years under my care. I don't plan on getting rid of it any time soon. And, so far, I'm still cancer-free today.


As you might be able to tell, I'm reluctant to say that's purely a coincidence.