F-16 Viper Demo Team, Oshkosh EAA Air Venture 2018, The Sound of Freedom

Heritage Flight -- 2- P-51 Mustangs and the F-16 Viper

The Experimental Aircraft Association Oshkosh Air Venture 2018 was a roaring success. And the F-16 Viper certainly turned up the noise on the flight line.

USAF Major John “Rain” Waters is the commander and F-16 pilot for the USAF F-16 Viper Demo Team, which seeks to inspire young pilots and plane maintainers. His precision and skill makes the demonstration both exciting and powerful. The expert level of flying and the sheer volume that comes with the demo entertained the crowd.

According to his biography, Waters is a fighter pilot with over 960 combat hours in the MC-12W and F-16.

The Non-Commissioned Officer In Charge for the Viper Demo Team is Tech. Sgt. Kam Glowacki who hails from a neighboring town of ours: Streamwood, Illinois. Among various responsibilities, he supervises the maintenance of the four aircraft, organizes travel arrangements, and overseas individual training.

The team also includes Superintendent Master Sgt. Chris Schneider, Avionics Specialist Tech. Sgt. Stephen Mullins, Dedicated Crew Chief Tech Sgt. Dominic Dizes, Dedicated Crew Chief Staff Sgt. Luis Lopez, Dedicated Crew Chief Staff Sgt. Adam Armstrong, Public Affairs Senior Airman Destinee Sweeney, and Public Affairs Senior Airman Sean Sweeney.

According to the Viper Demo Team mission statement, the Shaw Air Force Base Air Combat Command F-16 Viper Demonstration Team both demonstrates combat capabilities and works with the Air Force Heritage Flight Foundation uniting the past and present.

It was thrilling to watch the Viper Demo Team this year – the announcer was great, the music was lively, and the maneuvers demonstrated a captivating show of force. With its cockpit and bubble canopy, the pilot of the F-16 has clear forward and upward vision. The F-16 can pull up to nine G’s and reach a speed of 1,500 mph -- Mach 2. The Lockheed Martin jet has been a major part of the war on terror, flying thousands of missions in operations Noble Eagle, Enduring Freedom and Iraqi Freedom.

The Heritage Flight is a carefully coordinated flight connecting the past and present through aircraft set to a beautiful song: We Remember by Dwayne O’Brien. The piece evokes strong emotion and powerful remembrances of years past and all that Army Air Corps and United States Air Force veterans have given in service.

We attended Sunday Mass on the EAA grounds, and as the Viper was taking off, the priest, who was giving his homily, paused … and then pointed outward and, after the jet had left the airspace, said, “That is the sound of freedom.” If you haven’t read my earlier blog about Oshkosh, I mentioned how powerful that phrase was for me.

Fr. Bill Hower was right; the F-16 certainly is the sound of freedom.

F-16 Viper, Vietnam-era AE-1 Skyraider and WWII-era

P-51 Mustang, flying together over Oshkosh.

The F-16 Viper, piloted by Major John "Rain" Waters

The 2018 Heritage Flight

Heritage Flight from the opposite end of the flight line

F-16 making some noise.

P-51s peeling away from The Viper at the end of the Heritage Flight.

The Viper from directly underneath.

Memorial Day, the fallen, and Rod McKuen

Memorial Day, the fallen, and Rod McKuen

I’ve listened to so many veterans – countless veterans – share their stories. I’ve sat as active duty military members gave accounts of situations I wouldn’t dare to imagine. War is unthinkable. It wounds the heart and tramples the soul. It leaves images that haunt those who serve our country for years. It is sacrifice. It is the cost of freedom.

In its wake, it has left countless fallen men and women and still more who returned home plagued by fear, guilt and questions. It is those men and women who stand up and who refuse to let those who have offered the ultimate sacrifice in the name of freedom be forgotten.

The Wall that Heals made a stop in my county this Memorial Day weekend.  I have come to know many a name upon that Wall. I have researched several men from our county, thanks to a dear friend. I recently researched and wrote about one of those men from my town. These men all gave their lives … and left sorrow and inconsolable grief on the hearts of families, friends and fellow brothers and sisters.

One man, who isn't from our county, but whose name appears on The Wall, is Stephen Gari. He was a friend of my friend. I wouldn’t have known him from any newspaper clipping. He wasn’t from around here. I wouldn’t have read about him in a history book. There is no movie on his life.

But my friend is a man who won’t let Gari's memory fade. And so it was that I went with my tattered, pen-and-pencil scribbled list of well-researched numbers and dates on a worn and slightly crumpled piece of ledger paper – the list I had compiled of men whose names I wanted to find on the Wall – men whose sacrifice was life itself.

As I looked at the list, I approached panel 2, line 4. There, at the highest point of the wall was the name of a man that I would never know -- but whose name forever will be in my memory -- etched in metal. He was a member of the Military Police, an Army Specialist 4^th class. I’ve read that he enjoyed a cold beer, a good game of poker and poetry of the Rod McKuen variety.

“It’s nice sometimes

to open up the heart a little

and let some hurt come in.

It proves you’re still alive.”

~ Rod McKuen, Listen to the Warm

I’ll admit, I had to research Mr. McKuen; my pop-music acumen isn’t fabulous. However, I read this poem and felt it quite fitting… as Vietnam Veterans approach The Wall, how carefully and, often, how timidly they open up their heart to let in a little of that hurt.

Oh, the hurt is great – but the release of some of that hurt, the strength to mourn and the courage to heal is even greater. 

So I stood there at that Wall. I saw Mr. Gari’s name up at the highest point. I wanted to make an etching of his name for my friend, but I didn’t know how I could reach it. I asked one of the volunteers who actually helped me round up a tall-ish gentleman and his young son, and we asked if they might be willing to help me get this rubbing. The boy – who must have been around 8 to10, willingly climbed up onto his father’s shoulders, and did an incredible job on the first try. It felt right – teamwork had played a role in bringing this rubbing to my friend just as teamwork had created such a strong bond between these two men, living hundreds of miles apart, who served together in the U.S. Army, in a land so foreign to both of them.

As I walked back to the parking lot, I ran into a few more Vietnam Veterans, two of whom spent about a half-hour sharing stories of their lives with me, reminiscing about friends made, talking about aircraft carriers and mess halls, sharing stories about the children they raised, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and referencing friends on the Wall. One gentleman said it had been fifty years ... and he finally felt like he was home...

Honor often yields healing. When these men and women serve as volunteers at the Wall or come to spend moments of quiet in front of the Wall, there is healing. There is a sense of honor that fills that space.

To those who gave their lives … "thank you" never will be enough.

To those veterans who honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice … thank you for wrestling with both the visible and invisible wounds of war. Thank you for having the strength to do what you do. Thank you, of course, never will be enough.

In honor of my dear friend’s friend, Stephen L. Gari, and those men who died from our town:

Donald Eugene Dermont Jr., April 11, 1966, Army SP4

Dennis Earl Jahn, April 10, 1971, Army, SP4

Gordon Manson Gaylord, April 6, 1970, Air Force TSGT

Toby Edward Jaeckels, September 21, 1969, Army, SGT

Sidney John Elyea, February 2, 1966, Army SP4

Thank you…

Stephen L. Gari, Army

Donald Dermont

Dennis Jahn

Gordon Gaylord

Toby Jaeckesl

Sidney Elyea

The most poignant time to visit the Wall ...

The Gold Star motorcycle with The Healing Wall in the Background

Part of the poignant display that travels with The Wall that Heals.

Etching for my friend

Determination

Determination.

Do you ever wonder what drives people?  What keeps them going despite defeat, despite despair, despite an intensely difficult life?

Two weeks ago, we had an ice storm. In April.

I think most of my family (and most of my friends) were none too happy with the weather situation. I mean, really, we had a mourning dove nest right outside of our front door window … with eggs.

Now, last year, we had a robin there, and she laid these beautiful eggs and abandoned them. It was hard to explain that to the children. (Also, a hawk tried to eat them later on in the summer.) So, it was difficult to think about what might happen to the eggs and the mother during these ice storms and frigid weather.

But that mourning dove … she was persistent. She had determination. She is tough.

We watched her steadfastly taking care of those eggs, keeping them warm. She never moved; she merely surrounded those eggs with all the warmth she could muster.

Recently, I spent a couple of months co-writing a series on homelessness for our local paper. It was daunting, at first. There were so many questions and so many avenues to pursue. But as we dove in – as we began to put a face to the idea of homelessness, as we listened to the stories of those who were willing to tell them, as we humanized the nomadic life of the homeless in our community – I felt the desire for survival amongst those who were courageous enough to share their stories.

I saw true determination.

Just like the mourning dove who stayed by her eggs, these men and women have battled through the things that most of us cannot imagine surviving. These men and women have withstood the demeaning glances of those who do not understand. These men and women have longed for the comfort of a place to call, “home,” and they have wept for families who no longer look for them. They have fought demons, and, in most cases, continue to wage war against them, winning some days and losing others. They are not without fault, but when the difficult times came, it was enough to cost them dearly. It could be any one of us who finds himself in a dire situation.

But they persevere. Those who chose to speak with me have formed a community – a family amongst those who know what they are going through. They say hello to me on the street now. They hug me at Starbucks. They tell me what has happened since we last spoke – and I’m equally interested in their lives ~ and, particularly, what their determination has rendered.

Like the mourning dove, one of those whom we interviewed is fiercely determined. This individual is diligent. This individual clutches every opportunity. This person desires to change this life she lives – and, she will. Because she is determined.

I’ve learned a lot over these months. I’ve learned how easy it could be to find oneself in a dire situation. I’ve learned that every person has a story. I’ve seen with my own eyes that everyone brings something to the table about which we are blissfully unaware. I’ve learned that a smile, a handshake, a willingness to care, and a gentle heart can mean the world to a person who has nothing.

Mostly, though, I’ve been inspired by the people who carry on when the world appears to be against them.

Be the warmth in the ice storm, be the smile in someone’s day, be the person who sits with another human being and treats them with value and respect. Be kind. Be the one who encourages and reinforces determination. You see, even though that mourning dove hatched those babies and brought them into this world, her job isn't done yet. She still has work to do. She must remain determined ...

To read all three installments of our Homelessness series, visit:

Week one: the beginning

Week Two: the people -- the stories behind the people who live this difficult life

Week Three: the plan -- what our community is doing and what the future of homelessness might look like. 

Guests of the Old Firehouse Assistance Center enjoy some sunshine outside.

Volunteers throughout the community take time to make and serve meals.

Area churches offer a place to stay during cold-weather months.

Triduum -- service, sacrifice, salvation

 

Easter always has been a deeply moving liturgical season for me.

As a college student, I was heavily involved in the Triduum – Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Vigil. I didn’t know it then, but those incredible adults who were role models, along with one inspirational pastor, laid the groundwork for my love of tradition, the beautify of the sacraments and combining faith with hospitality. 

Though my life has changed dramatically since my college choir years – I since have graduated college, started teaching, gotten married, had children, switched careers, and started hosting Easter on Sunday for family and friends – still, the Triduum remains one of the most beautiful times of the year ~ and I am so blessed that my girls feel the power of these three days as well.

There is so much beauty in the Holy Thursday Mass.

Watching our priest take a towel and a basin with a pitcher of water, and bend to wash the feet of twelve men from our parish, I’m moved to serve. Jesus knew he was going to die, and, yet, he loved his apostles – he washed their feet, caring for them in a way that takes humility, compassion and great tenderness. He knew one would betray him, but, still, he ministered to them and helped them feel comfortable and refreshed before he broke bread with them.

As our priests consecrate the Eucharist, I am reminded of the institution of the Eucharist and the initiation of the priesthood. Then, just as Jesus asks his apostles to keep watch on the night before he is killed, we are invited to stay and keep watch. We pray – in silence. In darkness. In adoration. 

Perhaps I didn’t know it yet, but Holy Thursday set a foundation for me – a model of meeting people where they are – and extending an invitation for coffee, a meal or just a place to spend time together. Holy Thursday begs me to be a servant first. It calls me to be a better homemaker -- a better wife, a better mother, a better friend. It demonstrates the great blessing bestowed by sitting with someone ... even sitting in silence. 

A wonderful woman was the hands and feet of Jesus for me when I was a new(ish) mom, overtired, afraid, alone, feeling like an inadequate mom and failing as a wife … this woman invited me to her home, in the dead of winter and snow and cold – almost an hour away, mind you – and her children took my children and she made me a cup of coffee, gave me a blanket, sat with me and cried with me and encouraged me. She prayed with me. And then she fed me. I will never forget that day. It changed the way I experienced Holy Thursday. It forever altered the way I look at friendship – it hearkened back to Jesus and the Last Supper and in the Garden of Gethsemane … when being present is the gift. 

She was the face of Christ for me, and she still is. Recently, in a moment of desperation, at nearly midnight, she answered the phone, she listened, and she prayed with me. She lives the gospel message fully -- even when it is inconvenient for her.

And then there is Good Friday. You can’t get to Easter Sunday without having walked through Good Friday. This is the embodiment of the pure agony Jesus endured – for us. But one element that I hadn’t thought about until I was older was that Jesus didn’t walk the road to the cross on his own. In his most difficult steps toward Calvary, he accepted help from Simon of Cyrene. 

He accepted help.

He didn’t scoff and say, “I can handle this.” He accepted help with grace. And then, he alone felt every nail, painfully drew breath, and withstood vicious taunting. All of this he did to fulfill every prophecy. 

This reminds me to not only bear suffering with grace, but to accept help with grace. I’ve been humbled in so many ways – and have had to ask for help so frequently -- and, so often, it is that friend who answers.

Easter Vigil celebrates the Resurrection – that blessed night that brings with it hope for the world – there is victory over the grave. All is grace.

Lumen Christi

The Light of Christ ... a light in the darkness ... spreading across our church.

Newly baptized

Consecration of the Holy Eucharist.

Wishing you a beautiful and blessed season of Easter. May you find hope in Christ, may you be hope to another, may you hope in the glory of the Resurrection.

Our church after Easter Vigil Mass.