The push to solo continues. My latest project was getting an FAA medical exam, after which you receive a ticket that eventually becomes your license. So it's an important rite of passage on several levels. Like an American Express card, you can neither leave home nor solo fly without it. Not every doctor performs the exam so CFC gave me a list to choose from. As a result I had the honor of meeting Dr. Robert Soll last week. He was a lovely older gentleman who I could see right away had a keen, observant mind. As I stepped out of my car he asked me what kind it was. I told him it was a Saab. He then proceeded to tell me about the three or four Saabs he had owned over the years, one of which was one of the first cars to employ "free wheeling." At the same time, his current Chevy Lumina (with about 250,000 miles) was the best car he'd ever owned. I suggested he write in to GM as they might be needing stories like that right about now.
I should take a step back for a moment. There were two reasons I chose Dr. Soll. One was that he was able to see me the earliest. The other was that he (Dr. Soll) was on the way home from a somewhat unexpected trip I needed to make up to New Jersey last week. My old friend, Ray Ashley, lost his multi year battle with cancer on Thursday. Ray was an amazing individual. Apparently he had a very bad reaction to some experimental treatment from which his body was unable to recover. The entire experience of driving up North, picking up another old friend Jim, then riding together to Ray's wake offered potent time and opportunity to reflect. Ray was one year older than I am. He was very full of life and extremely smart. It never occurs to us that death comes for people like that. Or at least it's easy to forget that it does.
When we walked into the room with Ray's body (the family had chosen an open casket) I whispered to my friend Jim, "Are we in the right room?" I honestly didn't recognize the man in the casket. It was in fact, however, Ray. The treatments had definitely taken their toll. To see an old friend of your own age in the prime of life like that is sobering to say the least. I'm sure it will take me quite some time to fully process it.
My heart and mind were undoubtedly primed for meeting Dr. Soll in several ways. I couldn't help but feel like somebody was trying to tell me something. Precisely what I'm not sure. There seemed to be an air of ghosts of Christmas past, present and future blowing about the funeral home and the central Virginia back roads to Dr. Soll's house.
In any event, the medical exam proceeded more or less normally. Some local bar mates here in town warned me that I'd need a prostate exam and to chose a doctor with small hands. It's become a source of good bar stool humor. Naturally within ten minutes of meeting Dr. Soll I took a good long look at his fingers. They were huge, which made me increasingly nervous. Thankfully, it seems as though a prostate exam isn't required any longer for a class 3 license. So I dodged the bullet, literally.
My heart, nerves, eyes and reflexes are all in good shape. The exam itself took about forty five minutes. But my meeting with Dr. Soll lasted a couple of hours. He was, quite simply put, a very wise physician with both educational and interesting stories to tell. I respected his intuitive knowledge of how the body works and appreciated his advice on things like food allergies, cancer, piloting tips, and how to lose a couple of pounds. His wisdom, unlike much of what I experience these days in the medical field, was very analog. No CAT scans or MRIs here. Even his eye testing machine lacked any digital technology. For a moment, I felt like I was in a Norman Rockwell painting. The wisdom and experience he had to offer seemed that much more powerful somehow.
I'm the first to extol the virtues of digital technology and technology in general. But I guess what underlies any of that is a common sense of how things work and type of elegance in understanding old and building new things ... at least for me. If that involves CAD programs, great. If it makes use of nothing more than a hammer and chisel, that's great too.
So it wasn't necessarily the lack of high tech gadgets that made my Davey sense tingle. It was more the fact that it was tingling nonetheless. You see I've had more than my fair share of experience with doctors. As a result I've developed a keen ability to sense their problem solving and communication skills quite rapidly. Perhaps it's not just doctors. It may very well just be my heart and mind paying attention to other hearts and minds, both seeing and admiring those who seem to have a talent for observing the world, solving some of it's problems, and doing so all out of a genuine fascination of it all.
They say old people and children are quite alike. If by that they mean old folks regain a healthy sense of raw wonder about the world then I guess birthdays really are something to look forward to.
I should take a step back for a moment. There were two reasons I chose Dr. Soll. One was that he was able to see me the earliest. The other was that he (Dr. Soll) was on the way home from a somewhat unexpected trip I needed to make up to New Jersey last week. My old friend, Ray Ashley, lost his multi year battle with cancer on Thursday. Ray was an amazing individual. Apparently he had a very bad reaction to some experimental treatment from which his body was unable to recover. The entire experience of driving up North, picking up another old friend Jim, then riding together to Ray's wake offered potent time and opportunity to reflect. Ray was one year older than I am. He was very full of life and extremely smart. It never occurs to us that death comes for people like that. Or at least it's easy to forget that it does.
When we walked into the room with Ray's body (the family had chosen an open casket) I whispered to my friend Jim, "Are we in the right room?" I honestly didn't recognize the man in the casket. It was in fact, however, Ray. The treatments had definitely taken their toll. To see an old friend of your own age in the prime of life like that is sobering to say the least. I'm sure it will take me quite some time to fully process it.
My heart and mind were undoubtedly primed for meeting Dr. Soll in several ways. I couldn't help but feel like somebody was trying to tell me something. Precisely what I'm not sure. There seemed to be an air of ghosts of Christmas past, present and future blowing about the funeral home and the central Virginia back roads to Dr. Soll's house.
In any event, the medical exam proceeded more or less normally. Some local bar mates here in town warned me that I'd need a prostate exam and to chose a doctor with small hands. It's become a source of good bar stool humor. Naturally within ten minutes of meeting Dr. Soll I took a good long look at his fingers. They were huge, which made me increasingly nervous. Thankfully, it seems as though a prostate exam isn't required any longer for a class 3 license. So I dodged the bullet, literally.
My heart, nerves, eyes and reflexes are all in good shape. The exam itself took about forty five minutes. But my meeting with Dr. Soll lasted a couple of hours. He was, quite simply put, a very wise physician with both educational and interesting stories to tell. I respected his intuitive knowledge of how the body works and appreciated his advice on things like food allergies, cancer, piloting tips, and how to lose a couple of pounds. His wisdom, unlike much of what I experience these days in the medical field, was very analog. No CAT scans or MRIs here. Even his eye testing machine lacked any digital technology. For a moment, I felt like I was in a Norman Rockwell painting. The wisdom and experience he had to offer seemed that much more powerful somehow.
I'm the first to extol the virtues of digital technology and technology in general. But I guess what underlies any of that is a common sense of how things work and type of elegance in understanding old and building new things ... at least for me. If that involves CAD programs, great. If it makes use of nothing more than a hammer and chisel, that's great too.
So it wasn't necessarily the lack of high tech gadgets that made my Davey sense tingle. It was more the fact that it was tingling nonetheless. You see I've had more than my fair share of experience with doctors. As a result I've developed a keen ability to sense their problem solving and communication skills quite rapidly. Perhaps it's not just doctors. It may very well just be my heart and mind paying attention to other hearts and minds, both seeing and admiring those who seem to have a talent for observing the world, solving some of it's problems, and doing so all out of a genuine fascination of it all.
They say old people and children are quite alike. If by that they mean old folks regain a healthy sense of raw wonder about the world then I guess birthdays really are something to look forward to.
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