Creative Connections, By Sara Aeikens

Choosing between two important family gatherings sometimes resolves itself by figuring out how to attend both.  My dilemma began during the afternoon of my three quarters-of-a-century plus one year November birthday. That morning I attended the funeral of the former Albert Lea-Freeborn County Chamber of Commerce executive director to honor his positive impact and the significant and lasting contributions he made in our crossroads community — although afterward I didn’t much feel like celebrating my birthday, even though I received several birthday cards and phone messages.

In the late afternoon I found an answering machine message awaiting me, so I tuned into my cousin from Nebraska singing me a solo “Happy Birthday” close to perfect pitch. I called his home right back and had a wonderful half-hour conversation with his wife, thus getting better acquainted with her. I also found out he’d left that day for southeast Iowa for the funeral service of his 95-year old stepfather. Just after that phone call, my husband told me his family Christmas party in Willmar would take place the day after my relative’s funeral in Iowa.

Hmm — I started to ponder that both my parents’ lives originated in this Iowa region where my mother had close family connections. Wouldn’t it be great to renew those family ties? I decided I’d really like to go to the funeral service. At a driving distance of over five hours, it looked like an overnight stay. I also wanted to attend the Christmas party of the Aeikens family the following day, with it being more than a three-hour drive. Going to both did not seem possible. Then a solution just appeared in my brain: Could flying be an option?

In the summer of 2016, my husband and I attended the huge airshow in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. He’d been interested in flying before our son’s birth over 49 years ago, but we’d decided we couldn’t afford lessons with our new baby coming. Not quite a half-century later, the airshow main gate attendant offered a discount membership for those with service to the USA. I just mentioned my Peace Corps service in Venezuela, and they gave us a discounted membership. We’re not learning to fly, but my husband and I now both attend interesting aviation meetings. So, I asked him about making a request to his pilot friend to fly me to the funeral. During this phone call, our friend told me he always enjoys flying and would check on the weather plus his wife’s schedule and then let me know.

I phoned friends and relatives for ideas to obtain a 40-minute car ride from the Mt. Pleasant airport to the Keosauqua area funeral home. Not being computer savvy, I reluctantly tried Google and only found the Van Buren County Tourism phone number as a possibility for a referral.  Megan answered with not only a connective and cheerful voice, but agreed she’d pick up my pilot and me at our landing site, about 20 minutes southeast of where she lived. She planned on working that day nearby at a festival, so we’d be in time for our service. Could this be luck?  Both the pilot and our pickup driver agreed to this plan. My husband also offered to drive me to the Albert Lea airport before 7 a.m. He even helped the pilot take the Cessna 177 Cardinal plane out of the hangar.

My pilot-in-command, as he called himself, had not only prepared ahead of time, with mileage, time, distance, route and plenty of other items, but also very precisely went over his laminated checklist. After putting on our headphones and taxiing, turning, increasing speed, lifting off and waving good-bye to my husband, my total attention in the plane involved three main activities: looking, listening and not interrupting. I zeroed in on the sky becoming lighter and the farmsteads’ differences and complexities.

I also wanted to understand the air talk between the pilot and what he called the air-traffic controls, but he informed me he’d rather refer to them as helpers because he was the one actually in control of the plane. I smiled and became calmer. He communicated with a few different cities with “air helpers,” such as Rochester and Waterloo. I was pleased to be able to understand them and to hear both female and male voices. I also studied the various gauges on the instrument panel. The main ones I understood included our plane’s altitude, speed and direction and the rest seemed overwhelming, but the command pilot noted how many things turned out to be ideal. With the wind so calm, I don’t think I ever noticed him use the control wheel except for taking off and landing.

Since the entire trip would not have happened without someone picking us up when we landed, the moment my foot found the solid metal step to de-plane, I hopped out with my cellphone to phone our driver. To my delight she answered that she had also just arrived. As our pilot secured each plane wing with a bright strap and hook, Megan shared with me by the fence gate that she had never picked up a stranger before. In her car, she talked with enthusiasm about our adventure and answered my many questions about both Mt. Pleasant and her tiny town of Lockridge, as well as her job and family. The command pilot had now agreed to do whatever the Iowa journey entailed, while Megan continued talking. I found interesting her story of the Van Buren county “dead towns,” consisting of some dozen small villages that had lost their main businesses. We pulled up to the funeral home with about three minutes to spare.  Megan and I hugged and I thanked her and invited her to come and visit us in Albert Lea.

Look for part two of this column in next Tuesday’s Tribune.

Sara Aeikens is an Albert Lea resident.