This is the first Mother’s Day without my Mom. I have been trying to come to grips with what would be an appropriate tribute. The following poem expresses, simply and concisely, my thoughts at this time!
Last week, while in Casa Grande, AZ, for some really good late model and modified races, I thought that this would be a great opportunity to revisit some of my past. It just so happens that Casa Grande is just about 40 mile directly south of the place that launched my aviation career, Williams AFB, AZ.
It was almost 40 years ago, August 9, 1973, that this baby-faced, young Second Lieutenant first drove onto the base for processing and orientation for USAF Undergraduate Pilot Training.
On an off day from racing I decided to take that nostalgic drive North to see what is left of the former Williams AFB, or as we, in the Air Force called it with great affection, “Willy”.
As I left the Pinal County Fairgrounds, that is where the Central Arizona Raceway is located, I headed Northeast for my first stop on this tour down memory lane. About 15 miles NE from the race track stands a seldom used airfield that is now Coolidge Municipal Airport.
Coolidge Municipal Airport, in its previous life, was built and utilized by the USAF as for various support roles from 1941-1993. During WWII that facility was used as a support field for ferrying supplies and personnel to support the war effort. Following WWII, the airfield was aligned with the USAF’s effort in training pilots at Williams AFB, AZ.
It was at this auxiliary airport that I would fly visual approaches, both straight-in approaches, and single engine approaches, in the T-37 back in 1973.
Notwithstanding the fact that I had flown more than 50 approaches to this facility in 1973, I had never driven to this airport, stood on the taxiways and runways. Now some 40 years later, I was able to stand at this facility and reminisce the significance it has played in my aviation career.
There were many emotional thoughts that ran through this old man’s mind during my revisitation to Coolidge Municipal Airport. As I was standing out on the tarmac, I could hear the voice of my T-37 instructor in my head, talking me through the traffic pattern and onto the runway successfully.
As I gazed out over this, personally important historic old airport, I couldn’t help thinking……
Forty years, man where’d they go?
After more than an hour of reminiscing at Coolidge Municipal Airport, I worked really hard at gathering up all those emotions that had run rampant through my brain, walked back to my car, and decided to drive another 30 miles North to some more of my old stomping grounds, Williams AFB, now called Phoenix-Mesa Gateway Airport for some more soul-searching.
On the drive from Coolidge to “Willy” there were many thoughts that began to float around in my head. I wasn’t sure just how this old man would handle what would surely be more emotional thoughts that would gush into my brain, after all, it was where my future was shaped in many ways.
As I drove through a back way from Coolidge to Willy, I noticed that this route used to be a deserted country road. However, now there are subdivisions abounding everywhere! As I drove North on Power Road, I came to Williams Field Road, the entrance to Williams AFB in the old days. I made a right turn on Williams Field Road, the old guard-house was still there, marking the entrance to Willy.
I was on a mission to find certain buildings that were key to my days on base. I first drove to where my old T-37 squadron building was located. That building has now been updated, and is now incorporated into part of the Arizona State University extension facilities now located here.
The memories of the morning standup briefing before we went flying the ol “Tweet” bounced around in my brain.
Forty years, man where’d they go?
Next stop was across the street. That is where my T-38 squadron building was once headquartered. Likewise, that building has been updated and incorporated into ASU extension.
Forty years, man where’d they go?
As I stood between these two buildings, I gazed out to the ramp area where all those T-37′s and T-38′s used to be parked. The nostalgia rushed into my brain like a herd of stampeding buffalo!
Those thoughts resurrected my early days of flying the T-37, trying to learn how to be an Air Force officer and pilot, and to all the struggles of trying to manhandle the supersonic fighter/trainer known as the T-38. The thought of 57 Second Lieutenants, “young studs” in our flight suits, strutting our stuff, flying jets, and living large, was absolutely overwhelming!
Forty years, man where’d they go?
My next stop was to find the Officer’s Club. My most prized memory of this building was when I brought my Dad down to Willy for my “Dining Out”. The Dining Out was a formal function, for men only, just prior to my graduation. The Dining Out is a USAF tradition, a right of passage of sorts for the young USAF Officer and pilot. It was a night with me in my mess dress uniform and my Dad in a tux. What a memory!
That night still is one of the highlights of my life! It marked, in my mind, when my Dad really realized that his son had passed into manhood!
Forty years, man where’d they go?
After the Officer’s Club, I headed back near the guard-house entrance. Just to the South of the entrance stands the old base chapel. The base chapel is where my graduation ceremonies were held. It is where I got my USAF pilot wings pinned on my uniform at the end of USAF Undergraduate Pilot Training, September 7, 1974.
As I stood near the front door, I vividly relived that warm September afternoon with my family in tow helping me to celebrate a monumental event in my young life. Once again, the emotions rushed and gushed all over me!
Forty years, man where’d they go?
My last point of interest to find was the base house that I lived in. This was also the first house that my oldest son, Jason, came home from the hospital to! The street names have all been changed since the Air Force gave the facility back to Arizona. But with a little effort I found the house!
Once again, there were memories that overwhelmed me! There were too many memories to even lightly touch upon! But nevertheless, this movie lasted quite a long time as I sat down on the sidewalk in front of the house!
Forty years, man where’d they go?
As I left my old base housing house, I found myself pulling back into the base chapel on my way out of the base for one last stop. I got out of my car one last time and walked up to the front door at the base chapel. I just touched the front door one last time!
When I was able to gather myself up, I slowly walked back to my car. As I pulled out of the old base chapel parking lot, I peered one last time over my left shoulder for a final glimpse of Willy and my past.
Good bye Willy! Forty years, man where’d they go?
As I pulled out of Willy, on the radio quite coincidentally, was one of my all time favorite songs by Bob Seger.
It really sums up just how I felt last week as I was reliving the life of Captain Blowdri, forty years later!
Forty years, man where’d they go? Now I recall!
I will leave you with the video. Listen to the lyrics, they have left an indelible imprint in my mind for many years!
Growing up the way that I did, with a good old farm boy as my Dad, and a very naive girl as my Mom, and going to church every Sunday morning, I have always prayed in my time of need. However, I must admit that I do not go to church every Sunday morning, now that I am an old man myself! Nevertheless, not all my prayers get answered, or at least I think that they do not all get answered.
But after my Dad passed away back in 1995, and periodically throughout all those years, but more specifically since my Mom passed away on June 30, 2012, I have thought that I would really like have a one-on-one talk with Jesus, to get a few of my most burning questions answered. You know, just go have a beer with Jesus!
These are some of the things that I would ask him!
If I could have a beer with Jesus
Heaven knows I’d sip it nice and slow
I’d try to pick a place that ain’t too crowded
Or gladly go wherever he wants to go
You can bet I’d order up a couple tall ones
Tell the waitress put ‘em on my tab
I’d be sure to let him do the talkin’
Careful when I got the chance to ask
How’d you turn the other cheek
To save a sorry soul like me
Do you hear the prayers I send
What happens when life ends
And when you think you’re comin’ back again
I’d tell everyone, but no one would believe it
If I could have a beer with Jesus
If I could have a beer with Jesus
I’d put my whole paycheck in that jukebox
Fill it up with nothing but the good stuff
Sit somewhere we couldn’t see a clock
Ask him how’d you turn the other cheek
To save a sorry soul like me
Have you been there from the start
How’d you change a sinner’s heart
And is heaven really just beyond the stars
I’d tell everyone, but no one would believe it
If I could have a beer with Jesus
He can probably only stay, for just a couple rounds
But I hope and pray he’s stayin’ till we shut the whole place down
Ask him how’d you turn the other cheek
To save a sorry soul like me
What’s on the other side?
Is mom and daddy alright?
And if it ain’t no trouble tell them I said hi
I’d tell everyone but no one would believe it
If I could have a beer with Jesus
I’d tell everyone but no one would believe it
If I could have a beer with Jesus
[Thanks to Kendra Singleton for lyrics]
Check out the video, and listen to those lyrics. Would you like to go have a beer with Jesus sometime?
Earlier this month I was driving back from Fresno after my cardiologist visit. I have driven that long 500 miles many times recently. On this particular day I was near the Mojave airport, close to Edwards AFB, when I looked up to the sky to see an airliner heading to the East Coast. That old jet airliner got me reminiscing about my 37 years of flying, and all that I have witnessed in the air and on the ground.
About that same time a tune came up on the radio by Jason Aldean that really intensified the thought patterns. Listening to the lyrics, as I now do at my advanced age of almost 62, it really made me think about a lot of things.
When we think of this country, we tend to think only about the cool parts, New York City, Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, etc. However, we fail to realize that there is another part of this country, the part of the country that feeds, not only this country, but much of the rest of the world!
The forgotten parts of this country are called “the flyover states”!
There is one “flyover state” that is near and dear to my heart, “those plains of Oklahoma”. That is where my roots emanate from. That is where my parents were born.
Nevertheless, if you watch the video and listen to the lyrics, you might feel some of the same emotions I was feeling while the song played on that long lonesome road back home!
While watching this video, with its broken down B-727′s, of which I have flown for over 5,000 hours in my aviation career, brought back many memories from my Eastern/United Airlines days.
I will be brief this Thanksgiving. I am most thankful for the best parents that I could ever ask for!
For those of you that know me, know that I relate music and life, whenever possible.
Listen to this song written by Blake Shelton, and his wife Miranda Lambert, who also sings this song. The song is about the loss of Blake’s brother when they were teenagers. The lyrics are poignant, current, and very moving! This song says what’s in my heart this Thanksgiving.
“…..I miss you. They say I’ll be ok, but I’m not going to ever get over you!”
I found this tribute to my fellow crew members who lost their lives on the clear cool September morning. The author was a fellow UAL pilot, Jay Heppner. I could not have written a more poignant salute to our fallen airline comrades!
September 11, 2001
On a clear, warm September morning 11 years ago, our world and sense of security forever changed. The images of aircraft – our aircraft used as weapons against us — flying into buildings, the collapse of the World Trade Center towers in New York City, the fire pluming from the Pentagon, and a southwestern Pennsylvania farm field will forever be etched in our minds.
Each anniversary of 9/11, we recall the loss of friends, fellow employees and family members who died on that horrific day. We’re also reminded how that day impacted our sense of safety and control, two components of our work lives all airline pilots hold sacred.We all continue to feel the effects of 9/11. Our airline has gone through a bankruptcy and a merger. Many of us continue to deal with the lingering psychological effects of anger and other emotions. Yet, despite these challenges, it is important for us to remember what we have overcome. Our will to fight and stand up to those who would do us harm, our dedication and commitment to making air transportation as safe and secure as possible, and our continued belief in a free and open society have never been stronger. These characteristics – characteristics that make us unique – have sustained us during this difficult time.
“Even the smallest act of service, the simplest act of kindness, is a way to honor those we lost, a way to reclaim that spirit of unity that followed 9/11.” -President Barack Obama
As United pilots, we all experienced a personal loss with the death of four of our fellow pilots 11 years ago: Captain Victor Saracini and First Officer Michael Horrocks of Flight 175; and Captain Jason Dahl and First Officer LeRoy Homer of Flight 93. The sacrifices of these brave aviators, together with the crewmembers on American Airlines Flights 11 and 77, serve as reminders that we cannot afford to be complacent or stagnant in the upkeep of our national security and aviation safety.On September 11, 2001, each United pilot inherited the responsibility of carrying on the legacies of Captain Saracini, Captain Dahl, First Officer Horrocks and First Officer Homer. Each time we enter the cockpit, our devotion to safety and professionalism honors their memories and lives up to the examples they set. It is our duty to continue carrying their light and honoring them with our service.
Let us all pause today to acknowledge the sacrifices of our fallen brethren and to reaffirm our collective vow to never forget the following men and women who lost their lives 11 years ago today:
United Flight 93:
Captain Jason Dahl ( a personal friend of yours truly, Captain Blowdri)
First Officer LeRoy Homer, Jr.
Flight Attendant Lorraine Bay
Flight Attendant Sandra Bradshaw
Flight Attendant Wanda Green
Flight Attendant CeeCee Lyles
Flight Attendant Deborah Welsh
United Flight 175:
Captain Victor Saracini
First Officer Michael Horrocks
Flight Attendant Robert Fangman
Flight Attendant Amy Jarret (another friend)
Flight Attendant Amy King (another friend)
Flight Attendant Kathryn Laborie
Flight Attendant Alfred Marchand
Flight Attendant Michael Tarrou (another friend & Amy’s fiancé)
Flight Attendant Alicia Titus
Customer Service Representative Marianne MacFarlane
Customer Service Representative Jesus Sanchez
American Flight 11:
Captain John Ogonowski
First Officer Thomas McGuinness
Flight Attendant Barbara Arestegui
Flight Attendant Jeffrey Collman
Flight Attendant Sara Low
Flight Attendant Karen Martin
Flight Attendant Kathleen Nicosia
Flight Attendant Betty Ong
Flight Attendant Jean Roger
Flight Attendant Dianne Snyder
Flight Attendant Madeline Sweeney
American Flight 77:
Captain Charles Burlingame
First Officer David Charlebois
Flight Attendant Michele Heidenberger
Flight Attendant Jennifer Lewis
Flight Attendant Kenneth Lewis
Flight Attendant Renee May
Every since May 16, 2010, when my world was turned upside down with the events that played out at 36,000 feet, I have had many opportunities to reflect back on my 61 years. The real kicker to this whole thing occurred on June 30, 2012, that was the end of era for me. That day I was thrust into the role of joining my siblings as the new patriarchs of our branch of the Hammack family. That was the day that my Mom, Ola Mae Hammack, answered the call from God to return home to be with my Dad, my older brother, and the rest of her family!
I have now had a couple of months since then to reflect, to actually ponder, and to evaluate what I have done with my life.
If I am going to be forthright, I must evaluate my heritage. I come from a very hard-working, but extremely dirt poor, early days, 1930′s and 40′s, migrant farm working parents. Both Mom and Dad were not afraid of hard work, in fact, that is all that they knew.
About the time that WWII broke out, Mom and Dad settled in San Pablo, CA, an east SF Bay community that housed the Kaiser shipyards. Those shipyards built US Liberty ships that transported soldiers and sailors to fight the War. However, that was a few years before I made my entrance into this world!
As I progressed throughout school, there was never any doubt that I would go to college. That realization came to me at an early age. I saw how hard, and what long hours that my Dad put in on a daily basis, that I figured out that I wanted to find a skill that would allow me to “work smart”, not necessarily hard! That skill would require a college education, not doubt!
However, I was initially not accepted into Fresno State. I had missed the mathematical formula by just 2 points! I made an appointment to talk to the Dean of Admissions, to discuss my application. A few days after the interview I was notified that Fresno State would make an exception, and therefore, allow me to enroll for the fall semester of 1969. What a stroke of good luck!
In the beginning of my sophomore year at Fresno State, my college deferment was revoke because I lacked the required amount of units. Remember that was 1970, the height of the Viet Nam War. Knowing that my draft lottery number was extremely low, I looked into USAF ROTC, which was on campus. After taking all the aptitude tests and the physical, it was determined that I was qualified to enroll in USAF Pilot Training after graduation, if would commit to the program. So in the fall fo 1971 I signed the necessary paperwork to enroll into USAF ROTC as a pilot candidate. Luck smiled down on me once again!
Air Force pilot training was the single most difficult thing that I have ever attempted. There was a time that I was ready to throw in the towel and admit defeat, however, I just couldn’t succumb! I remembered all the trials and tribulations that my parents had overcome in their life, and I just refused to let myself fail. I just dug deep for some strength to get through this program. I guess that I just got lucky again!
My USAF career was mostly uneventful, except for the April 1975 Saigon Evacuation. That was the first time that I witnessed what 37mm artillery looked like exploding around my aircraft in the air! I didn’t take any direct hits, I guess that I was just lucky that way!
During my nine-year tenure at Eastern Air Lines I had once close call. We had a landing gear, the nose gear, that refused to extend and had to land the plane with the two mains down and the nose gear still firmly in the nose gear wheel well. It was a somewhat harrowing experience for me, a fairly new B-727 copilot! Nobody was injured. Once again luck prevailed!
In my 21 year flying career with United, it too was mostly uneventful. I say mostly uneventful until May 16, 2010. If you didn’t read the link at the beginning of the article, here is the link to my career ending Sunday night flight. You might take a few minutes to read the first hand experience of what a cockpit fire is really like from the Captain’s point of view! I now, more than ever, really understand just how lucky that I was that night!
But I have to say that, in reflection, the real force behind my drive to succeed was my Mom and Dad. They were always there when I needed them. They were there to catch me when I fell, and gave my support that things would always get better. They never judged me for my failures and shortcomings. I could have picked a wealthier set of parents, but I could never have picked a more supportive and loving Mom and Dad. I guess that I am just lucky that way!
Now I have two great grandchildren, Cole and Hannah, that are the light of my life. I guess that I am just lucky that way!
I’m not saying that I’m something special! I am just luck that way!
Watch and listen to the lyrics of Joe Walsh’s explanation. I couldn’t have put it any more succinct than he did in this song!
For the last 16 years, July 21st has had a bittersweet meaning to me. I celebrate your birthday with pride and joy. All the while, still feeling that hole in my heart, and the loss that I have felt since December 30, 1995. Additionally, knowing just how much that I have missed your presence in my life for all these years, leaves me somewhat sad.
Pop, you were always a role model for me while you were walking among us. In death that did not change, in fact, you are more of a role model to me now. When confronted with a difficult situation, I find myself saying or thinking, “how would Dad handle this situation”?
Little did you know that your influence on your family did not end when God called you home. Little did you know that your legacy did not stop or vanish with death. Quite conversely, it has grown over the last 16 years. Your legacy has grown via the stories that I have told, both Jason and Jeremy, as well as Cole. Your presence is still felt long after you are gone!
Just as a side note, you would be very pleased to watch your youngest great-grandson, my grandson Cole, plays the game that you loved so much……… baseball. I will admit that I am somewhat prejudiced, but Cole has the potential to be a very good baseball player! I know that would make you very proud! He is, after all, a Hammack through and through! And did I mention that I have a very pretty young granddaughter, Hannah? Pop, she would melt your heart!!!
A Heart wrenching 30 days
Now, as you are well aware, the last 30 days have been heart wrenching for all of us. We were very selfish, and not yet ready to let Mom answer God’s call to come home. However, God once again won out, as he always does. Notwithstanding the fact that Mom outlived you by 16 1/2 years, her body grew very weary and tired. Now she is finally in Heaven with you, Donald, and the rest of the family. Reconciling that idea still does not make the loss any easier for me, however, I have to try to understand that death is part of life.
With you and Mom now together in Heaven, the torch has been passed to your children to take up the lead, and be patriarchs of this segment of the Hammack clan. It is an awesome responsibility that we must, and will, carry out.
One more note:
I can only think about the day that Mom entered Heaven on June 30, 2012. Knowing my Dad, he was sitting up there on a bench waiting for my Mom. I think that the very first thing that Dad said to Mom was, “what took you so long to get here. Ollie”? Well now Pop, she is there!
Dad, this is YOUR Captain speaking:
Til we meet again, I love you and miss you more than you will ever know! Thank you for being the father that you were. I couldn’t have asked for a better role model!
I thought that this Brad Paisley video was very appropriate!
This is without a doubt going to be one of the most difficult, and challenging articles to complete that I have yet written. It has now taken me nineteen days to try to compose my thoughts, emotions, and arrange what you are bout to read. Having said that, I feel compelled to share my loss with you.
Ola Mae Hammack
June 13 1918-June 30 2012
Those two lines appear to be self-explanatory, right? Oh contraire, my friend! How can a date, a dash, and another date define, adequately describe the person? That dash between the birthdate and the date of death is a lifetime, in Mom’s case, 94 marvelous and glorious years.
Those 94 years encompassed a multitude of highs and lows.
Her life started out, in 1918, as the daughter of John Addison and Annie Myrtle Smith (nee Fletcher) in the little farm town of Sayre, Oklahoma. Being number four out of a total of eight children, only seven lived to adulthood, having an extremely poor childhood, part of which was growing up during the depression, helped to formulate Mom’s naive conservative pentecostal point of view.
Mom’s family migrated from Western Oklahoma to South Texas while she was still in elementary school, they were chasing the agriculture work in the early 1920′s. It was there in South Texas, at the age of 12, that my Mom was introduced to, accepted, and made religion an integral part of her life for the next 82 years!
At the age of 14 or 15 her family, once again, chased the farm work to Buckeye, Arizona. It was shortly thereafter that Mom met another Oklahoma native, my Dad, Archie Wilson Hammack.
The courtship was very short and they were married in Buckeye, AZ on February 20, 1934.
Just eleven months after marrying, Mom and Dad welcomed into their family on January 19, 1935, with much joy, a new son named Donald. However, just ten days before Christmas, December 15, 1935, and ten months after his birth, Donald passed away while battling pneumonia.
From 1934 through 1942 Mom and Dad worked as migrant farm workers, following the crops from the Imperial Valley, throughout the Central Valley of California, and occasionally up though Idaho, and back to the Imperial Valley of California. All the while adding two more sons, Ted and Jim, to their family. It was the lifestyle that was illustrated by John Steinbeck’s novel, “The Grapes of Wrath”, in a nutshell!
During WWII, Mom and Dad settled into San Pablo, CA, an East Bay town of the SF Bay area metropolis. During those years, the family was increased by two more mouths. It was there that, both Zeeva and Jerry, were added to the family role. The surviving children now totaled four at this point.
After the war ended, Mom and Dad decided to move to the Alaskan Island of Craig to try commercial fishing. That venture only lasted about 2-3 years. My Dad came down with Tuberculosis in 1948, and the decision to return to California. After entering a TB sanitarium in Monrovia for treatment, it was decided that the whole family would relocate to Visalia where my maternal grandmother was residing at the time. Later the family would move to Monrovia to be closer to Dad during his recovery.
In 1950 my Dad exited the hospital, and moved the family to Tulare, CA. It was there the following year, 1951, that the last of the children, yours truly, Leon, arrived.
For the 61 years that my Mom and Dad was married, Mom was the backbone of the family, instilling her beliefs, guiding, and teaching her children, as mothers always do. It was through those 61 years that she tried to be the best Mom that she possibly could be. It was through those 61 years that she did her best to try to show her children, through example, as well as words, how to be a responsible adult. Her efforts will forever be felt, and greatly appreciated!
However, for the last 16 1/2 years, Dad passed away on December 30, 1995, Mom has lived a more lonesome lifestyle. Notwithstanding the fact that her five children were able to provide her a very comfortable living, growing old by one’s self makes for a lonely existence!
This past March Mom’s life started to unravel. Her health began to decline, as well as her will to live, began to decline. Fortunately, however, Mom’s mental and physical were soaring high for her 94th birthday, June 13th, as we gathered around her to celebrate that huge milestone!
But that was short-lived, on the morning of Tuesday, June 26th, however, Mom’s health took a huge U-turn! She slipped into a coma, it was obvious that her time on this Earth was rapidly coming to an end! It was at that point that our family gathered together around Mom, offering her love and support, knowing full well that she was about to answer that long distant call from God that we know we all must answer one day.
That call from God was made to Mom at 2:45 pm on June 30, 2012.!
That afternoon, was for me, “THE LAST GOODBYE”!
For those who have not visited the web site we created for Mom, check out the following link. Your comments and stories are encouraged!
