Falling To Grace
I used to fly for a church rehab home. They took in delinquent children so they wouldn't have to go to reform school, or something worse. This was their last chance at rehabilitation.
I flew to different parts of the country and picked them up, at my own expense. I never had a problem with any of them, probably because of several things. They were scared to death of flying, afraid of me (I can look and act scary), and they always wondered what they were getting into at the home. They were also leaving their friends and family behind, and didn't know for how long.
I'm not a psychologist in any sense of the word, but I remember marveling at what mother animals used to teach their young, I guess through pure fright.
I used to put corn and sorghum out under trees at my grandparents, then sit very still and quiet up against a distant tree to watch the squirrels, birds, and deer walk
around eating it. The slightest, unusual movement would stir them to flight, or at least cause an alert to see if it was danger as perceived by them. It amazed me that the little ones paid so much attention to what their mothers seemed to tell them. Self preservation? I guess so.
I taxied up to the private ramp, shut the plane down, got out and stretched, then walked over to the office. Inside I greeted the office staff, poured me a cup of coffee, and looked around at everyone there. You couldn't miss my "soon-to-be charge." There he sat, long hair, handcuffs, and a demeanor like a cornered, scared animal. Two armed deputies were sitting on each side of him.
"Take the cuffs off. If he gives me any trouble, I'm hungry and I'll just eat one of his arms or maybe a leg," I said, while smiling at the boy. I didn't get a smile back, but I did get a slight look of wonderment as he scanned my six foot two, (in cowboy boots), two hundred thirty pound, halfback frame.
We took off, climbed out to altitude. I tried to be friendly, telling him about the home, what we did, and how we tried to turn kids lives around by making them want to lead a better and productive life. A life free of crime and/or trouble.
I wasn't getting anywhere! All we did was trade barbs, with him insulting me, as well as everyone in his life for a couple hours or so. Then he told me he was hungry and had to go to the bathroom.
I think we were near Alexandria, Louisiana and there's a big prison not far from there. I called center and told them I was canceling my flight plan for a stop in
Alexandria, and they turned me over to Alexandria's control tower. I told them I was "dumping to pattern altitude" and got clearance for the maneuver.
Dumping is a cross control slip; the plane is actually falling on its side nearly straight down. I love it, the thrill and excitement, the rush of just falling, knowing at the right time I'll ease it back into flight configuration and float smoothly along again, being closer to the scenery, much closer. And maybe wet passengers.
I rolled the wing over to five o'clock (his side) and eased the left rudder in full. The buffeting, rattling, and shaking of the plane did get his attention, as we literally fell from about four miles high to about two thousand feet in moments.
By the time that boy looked at the ground from his side of the plane, racing up at him for about four miles, he had not a rash word for the rest of the trip. He was shaking nearly out of control when we got out and went to get something to eat. Told you I can be scary! I had eased the plane along over the prison on approach, and told him he might be spending the rest of his life in one if he didn't straighten up and learn to be a good productive citizen. He listened to every word I said after that fall. Believe me.
We had a nice lunch, and even spent an hour or so walking around looking at different types of planes at the airport. I explained the characteristics of each one. He was truly fascinated. All he could talk about was flying, for the rest
of our trip. I even let him handle the controls and told him what all the instruments were for, and what they did. I also told him the fall was like God catching and saving him at the last moment because He was in control. I think he
understood the parallel of what I was saying.
Later, at the home, he would always watch for me, and then grill me about flying. Years later I learned he was flying for the home. What a gift I gave him. At least that's how I always felt about getting him interested in something positive.
-- Mark Crider, Raffish raconteur