An Amazing Gift

I didn't have time for this -- or anything else, for that matter. The inn
was full, and I was fighting constant interruptions of all kinds. But the
phone call was from the airport, and Mary said it was important.

Zach was on the line, one of our CFIs. He had just taken a most unusual
call, from a fellow who wanted to know if he knew anyone who would be
interested in a large collection of aviation memorabilia. God bless him,
Zach had instantly thought of us, and took the man's name and number.

With a deep sigh I dialed the number -- could things get any worse? In the
midst of a billion problems, guests, and frustrations, my patience and time
stretched to the breaking point, I dialed...

The man answered the phone quickly and cordially. I explained who I was,
and what I knew of his offer, and then left the words hanging in the air,
not knowing what else to say. With halting speech and obvious stress in
his voice, the man explained...

It seemed his brother, Jim, was gravely ill. Parkinson's had been the
diagnosis some ten years ago, and Jim was now suffering through the final
phase of this merciless disease. An orthodontist, an F-86 fighter jock in
Korea, and a crop duster, Jim was no longer able to live in the posh
retirement apartment he had called "home" for so long. The disease had
slowly robbed him of everything but his soul, and he now "lived" in an
intensive nursing home, his mind still perfect, trapped inside a body that
no longer functioned, awaiting his ultimate demise.

His brother, Joe, had the unenviable task of cleaning out his brother's
apartment, slowly sorting through the years of memory and trivia. I have
done this for both of my parents when they passed, and I can tell you that
it's one of the hardest things you'll ever do. Every step is bittersweet,
every movement filled with anguish.

But Joe's task was ten times harder, because his brother was literally in
the world of the living dead. Unable to mourn or let go, the family was
nonetheless trying to tie up loose ends as best they could.

It was into this rarefied atmosphere that I found myself thrust, on my day
without time.

Joe went on. It seemed his brother was a collector of all things aviation,
and was deeply involved with home-building and EAA. His family was not
interested in any of the flying stuff, and Joe -- a former B-52 navigator
from the pre-Vietnam era -- simply could not transport it all back to his
home in Ohio. Sitting in the middle of Jim's disassembled apartment, Joe
struck on the idea of giving it all to the local airport, in hopes of
preserving it for ALL pilots to use.

Of course, what Joe didn't know was that our airport was in shambles. The
City Council wants it profitable, the Airport Commission knows it can't be
done, politics are being played in the newspaper, with each side firing
retaliatory salvos through the media. It's a terrible situation, totally in
flux, and no one knows where it will all shake out. But the end result is
that no one within the airport community would dare to house Jim's
collection.

So, they called me, on my day without time.

Joe explained the collection. In my preoccupied frame of mind, I heard
about some books, some memorabilia from his days as a crop duster, some
artwork -- would I be interested in any of it? Trying to beg off, I asked
if the next day would work for him?

It wouldn't. His task needed to be completed today. If I didn't want it
now, in the trash it would go.

What else could I do? I said I would be there in ten minutes. Enduring
Mary's glare, I got his address and directions, and rang off. This day
would simply have to wait.

Joe met me in the foyer of the retirement home. A stocky, sturdy man, he
shook my hand with a force that belied his years. We slowly walked back to
Jim's apartment, and as he opened the door we stepped back in time.

The well-appointed apartment was in that peculiar state of chaos well-known
to all next of kin. Pink post-it notes, with each relatives name neatly
printed on them, were stuck to each piece of claimed furniture. A lifetime
of acquisitions were being divvyed up between far-flung relatives, and I --
a total stranger -- was being invited into the maelstrom to pick over the
bones.

It all felt very awkward, yet very familiar.

Joe strode into the study, with me in trail. This room was minus any
post-it notes, and the atmosphere abruptly changed to 100%, Grade-A
aviation. A propeller; a spinner; a crop-duster's helmet; flying goggles.
They were all there, everywhere, wherever I looked.

Books on every topic were shelved neatly in rows, sorted by topic. World War
I. World War II. Korea. Instrument flight. Working with wood. Working
with dope. Jim's books covered literally every aspect of aviation, from
aerodynamics to wing rib construction.

Overwhelmed, I asked Joe to sort out what he wanted me to take, and what he
wanted to keep. With a dismissive wave of his arm, he replied "Take it
all..."

I was speechless. I was going to need a bigger car.

Then we started going through the memorabilia. The propeller off the
Cassutt racer that Jim and his Dad were building. The helmet and goggles
Jim wore while crop-dusting. Models of his old F-86 Sabre. A spinner.
Headphones. A crash helmet.

Hell, I was going to need a bigger lobby.

We obtained a ten-foot long flatbed rolling cart from the management. Being
a retirement home, families cleared out loved-ones belongings every day, and
they were equipped to haul a lot of stuff. We loaded that cart TWICE, just
with books. It then took three more trips with another cart to haul the
assorted other boxes of aviation-related gear. The collection filled my
station wagon to the brim, with the back seats folded flat.

Several hours later Mary and I were still unloading, and I realized that we
really DID need a bigger lobby. Since that wasn't possible, we purchased
five more sets of bookcases, to hold all of Dr. Jim's collection, and we
boxed up all of the homebuilding stuff, to be donated to our local EAA
chapter.

Incredibly, two days later, Dr. Jim's sister and brother-in-law stopped by
with ANOTHER couple of boxes, and they told us that we would be able to have
the Cassutt racer's fully-completed fuselage and wings if there were no
takers for it! (It's never been covered, has no engine, and hasn't been
touched since 1978.)

An amazing gift, indeed. Dr. Jim's love of aviation will now live on in our
community long after he's gone, thanks to the generosity and kindness of his
family. His 150-volume library will be made available for all of our guests
and local pilots, and his memorabilia will decorate our hotel for many years
to come.

See it at http://alexisparkinn.com/aviation_library.htm .
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"



--
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"



--
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"

Damn Jay, I'm all teared up. Nice job!

"Jay Honeck" wrote in message
news:MF44c.8884$i76.125646@attbi_s03...
I didn't have time for this -- or anything else, for that matter. The inn
was full, and I was fighting constant interruptions of all kinds. But the
phone call was from the airport, and Mary said it was important.


snip

Now thats cool!

Jay is a lucky man...


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In a previous article, "Jay Honeck" said:
What else could I do? I said I would be there in ten minutes. Enduring
Mary's glare, I got his address and directions, and rang off. This day
would simply have to wait.

You know, this is what I like about you, Jay. When it comes to
non-aviation topics we don't agree on much and we're pretty much
diametrically opposed on politics, and I was started to get really ****ed
at your near-spam of the picture gallery updates before you went to the
monthly updates (thanks for that, by the way). But reading stuff like
this, I get the feeling that you're willing to go the extra mile, not just
for the good of your business, but for the good of aviation itself.

Well done.


--
Paul Tomblin http://xcski.com/blogs/pt/
Failure is not an option. It comes bundled with your Microsoft product.
-- Ferenc Mantfeld

"Jay Honeck" wrote

I didn't have time for this -- or anything else, for that matter. The inn
was full, and I was fighting constant interruptions of all kinds. But the
phone call was from the airport, and Mary said it was important.

Zach

Joe strode into the study, with me in trail. This room was minus any
post-it notes, and the atmosphere abruptly changed to 100%, Grade-A
aviation. A propeller; a spinner; a crop-duster's helmet; flying goggles.
They were all there, everywhere, wherever I looked.

Books on every topic were shelved neatly in rows, sorted by topic. World
War
I. World War II. Korea. Instrument flight. Working with wood. Working
with dope. Jim's books covered literally every aspect of aviation, from
aerodynamics to wing rib construction.

Overwhelmed, I asked Joe to sort out what he wanted me to take, and what
he
wanted to keep. With a dismissive wave of his arm, he replied "Take it
all..."

I was speechless. I was going to need a bigger car.

An amazing gift, indeed. Dr. Jim's love of aviation will now live on in
our
community long after he's gone, thanks to the generosity and kindness of
his
family. His 150-volume library will be made available for all of our
guests
and local pilots, and his memorabilia will decorate our hotel for many
years
to come.

Jay Honeck

Goosebumps and watery eyes, here, Jay. Take some pictures over to the man
that made this possible. He will be glad to know his stuff has found a
worthy home.
--
Jim in NC


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It's not just your love of aviation, Jay . . . it's the incredible ability to
tell a story with
such passion, color, and detail.

Kudos for your sense of compassion and
for all you do to further the GA cause.


www.Rosspilot.com

Jay Honeck wrote:

I didn't have time for this -- or anything else, for that matter.
snip

Looking forward to someday seeing all of that memorabilia in person.

Thank you for the story, Jay.


--
Peter







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Thanks for taking the time.

George Patterson
Battle, n; A method of untying with the teeth a political knot that would
not yield to the tongue.

Chuck wrote:

Jay is a lucky man...

I've always found that the harder you work, the more luck you have.

George Patterson
Battle, n; A method of untying with the teeth a political knot that would
not yield to the tongue.

Goosebumps and watery eyes, here, Jay. Take some pictures over to the man
that made this possible. He will be glad to know his stuff has found a
worthy home.

His sister just told me that Dr. Jim can now no longer swallow, and is on a
feeding tube, God help him.
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"