It seems to me there are almost limitless ways to learn about flying, and not all fall under one or more of the above adjectives; yet those lessons are there, and they are free for the taking. In fact, some happened even before we held a license to do the deed ourselves, or for that matter even before we might have considered it.

The Stick Chief refers to the aircraft controls that employ a stick as opposed to a yoke. And why would anyone do that, you ask?  In the late 1930s, then President Rosevelt, put the country on a war footing and declared the US would need 25,000 pilots. He was informed by the Navy and Army Air Core that they had neither the aircraft, personnel nor facilities to undertake the effort. To that end, civilian flight schools were pressed into service with several military officers overseeing civilian flight instructors. This was the beginning of the cadet pilot program.  

My landings were respectable, and my decision-making occasionally less respectable. Even after flying at cross-country camps, learning soaring theory, having the best possible mentor and breaking the proverbial apron strings at home, flying in my first competition that week was the hardest thing I’ve done yet as a pilot, but also the most satisfying.

Rare are the folks associated with the aviation community who don’t collect, at one level or another, aviation related publications, photographs, and/or memorabilia. I would go so far as to call it a genetic aviation aberration; a built-in, irrepressible desire to own or simply possess “things” that connect us to the people, art, technology, business, and/or history of flight.

The typical mid-lifers are accomplished overachievers. The way they see it, they could easily learn the Rubik's cube of a paper nav log if they were made to do it. But why require them to spend hours mastering a process that in the real world of EFBs, they'll never have to use again? For a mid-life pilot, this seems like a criminal waste of time.

I get that we all speculate in private on crashes since we have a natural tendency to try to understand tragedy after it unfolds. But when we speak publicly on social media or even to our friends and family at home, we become ambassadors for aviation. And as ambassadors, I firmly believe we need to steer these conversations toward supporting our fellow pilots who were involved in the incident as well as understanding how we can prevent it from happening again. And any online content that goes against these tenets should be strictly avoided or even better, unsubscribed.