Many, who describe Barbara, use words such as, all
business, to the point, curt, black and white, focused. What I can say about
her is that she lived her life with a sense of urgency, but only because, in
her opinion, it was the more efficient way to live. There was no fear attached
to it. It was always about getting the job done right, striving to accomplish a
goal, not letting opportunity pass you by … and why in the hell would you want
to dawdle or ponder anyway? Just do it!
These beliefs stuck with her all throughout her life
and reveled themselves in so many endearing ways.
In 1992, the first time I flew down to California to visit
Barbara, she was 72 years old. I found out that if you were a pilot for most of
your life - time will always play a major role in your daily life. I’ve actually
found that to be true with every pilot I’ve ever known. Time matters. How long will it take to fly to my
destination with an 8 knot headwind? What will my ground speed be? How much
longer will it take if it’s a 15 knot headwind? What does that do to my fuel
consumption? My ETA? Time matters. Not paying attention to it can cost you your
life.
During that first visit with Barbara we went grocery
shopping at the local Ralph’s - not too far from her house, but far enough to
wonder if we were going to make to back home alive. She drove like a bat outta
hell. She tailgated, constantly changed lanes with practically zero clearance –
all the while exceeding the speed limit. I was white knuckling it the entire
way. Who was this pint-sized, daredevil Greatest Generation grandma I was
riding with? I didn’t know her well enough yet to tell her to “SLOW DOWN!” So,
I just hung on, for the duration.
As we got closer to Ralph’s my death grip on the
armrest began to loosen. I suddenly realized, “Hey, this woman actually has it
under control.” She was maneuvering and navigating with impressive precision.
She knew exactly what she was doing and she’s doing it with a ferocious sense
of purpose. Time and efficiency. Time and efficiency. We made it to Ralph’s
without me making one peep….or fearful gasp.
Dragging me in her wake, I watched her beeline into
the store in her just-below-the-knee straight black skirt, tailored black and
white striped blouse, black blazer with a B-17 Bomber pin adorning her lapel.
Purse in one hand - shopping list in the other. She was a force. She moved with the same
sense of urgency she had moved 50 years earlier as she strode out onto the
flight line to get into the cockpit of a P-51 Mustang fighter. Parachute in one
hand - checklist in the other. Her purpose … win the war.
I caught up with her as she was selecting a cart. She
pulled one out from the line and almost without notice she did a pre-flight on
it. She rolled it forward a couple feet and jiggled it to see if there were any
issues with the wheels. Everything checked out so, once again, off she went –
charging down the aisle like a shopping spree winner. I followed, imaging this
72 year old woman as a 22 year old pilot. A pilot that was awarded the Army Air
Medal for flying a record breaking 8,000 miles in only 5 days, delivering four
different planes to destinations across the country - because - that’s what it
took to win a war.
When the shopping was over, the bill paid and
groceries bagged, Barbara relinquished the rest of the mission to me. A true
commander, she let her lieutenant do the grunt work. I pushed the cart across
the parking lot. I don’t know why, maybe out of politeness or maybe a little
twinge of white-knuckle syndrome, I asked, “Do you want me to drive?” The words
just slipped out. I cringed inside because I know that pilots, even 72 year old
pilots, never want to relinquish that pilot-in-command seat. Barbara paused,
gave me a glance and said, “Have at it, kiddo.”
I climbed in the driver’s seat and quickly tried to
acquaint myself with her 1980 Chrysler LeBaron. I backed out and drove to the
exit. In front of me was a busy six-lane street. Cars coming, going, slowing
down, speeding up and here I am in this boat-of-a-car I’ve never driven. I sat,
waiting for that safe, sure moment to enter traffic. Is that enough room? I don’t think so. Wait a minute, is it!? Oh
damn it, it was enough room. I just couldn’t pull the trigger. And there we
still sat, Barbara not saying a word.
Finally, I saw my window, a big window, a REALLY big
window. I looked both ways three times and cautiously pulled out into traffic.
Whew! I made it! Out of the corner of my eye I could see Barbara staring at me.
I finally said, “What?” She stopped staring, looked straight ahead and said,
“If you were driving, we never would of won the war.”
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