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View Full Version : The Philosophical Musings of a Happy Guy



SJ
07-11-2003, 05:41 PM
It was an 85 degree day today in Kansas City. The doors and windows were all open on the cub as we headed toward Gardner Kansas airport about 25NM from the home base of KMKC. In the front seat was a new acquaintance who wanted to receive his tailwheel endorsement. It was our second time to fly, the first time in winds that were manageable for a tailwheel newbie. I already knew he was hooked on super cubs, or at least, hooked on them or a similar airplane. He had already announced to his wife after our first time out that he was going to buy an airplane, and I suspected it was not going to be a 172.

Gardner airport offers a couple nice grass runways and a lot of room to "goof up" in. Mike did a more than admirable job of keeping things under control, since he has only 100 hours total time over the last 10 years, and is just getting back into flying. On the last landing of the day at Gardner all three wheels gently connected with the grass and well, you all know the feeling. I greatly treasure each time I can introduce a new person to tailwheel flying, and especially to Super Cubs. There is just nothing else quite like it. There may not be much money in instructing, but there sure is a lot of satisfaction.

This pleasant experience got me again thinking about all of you, and there are a lot of you. In the last 24 hours over 2000 people have visited this website. Maybe 100 of you and I have had the opportunity to meet personally at one time or another, and the time we have spent together in New Holstein, Texas, Rainy Lake, and many other places, has been some of the greatest moments in my life, and I believe that I have met some of the finest people I will ever meet. I am privileged to call you all friends, wither we have emailed or pm'ed, spoken on the phone, flown together, or spent a weekend holed' up somewhere. I relish with anticipation the new folks I will meet, and I am smitten with envy of those who just returned from Alaska, as I know that like my stories, theirs can't be put into words either.

You have all helped create this experience, and we will all work to maintain it. There are going to be a few changes, subtle ones coming down the pike in the next month of two. Should you ever find yourself questioning my motives or my goals, pick up the phone and call me, or send me an email. You will find that I am only trying to keep the conversation alive not just for us, but for those whom we have not yet met.

Sometimes you are involved in things in life that sort of fade off into memory. Meeting and interacting with all of you will never fade. At this moment I consider myself among the most fortunate people in the world. It is not about money, but about happiness, and about friendship.

Thanks to all of you, for making me so fortunate.

sj

Matt
07-11-2003, 06:37 PM
WOW!!! I look forward to meeting you someday. You sure sound like you have it "together". Congratulations.

cubman
07-11-2003, 09:04 PM
SJ

A friend sent this to me today and I thought of it when I read your message. See you at New Holstein.

Cubman
========================

A young man learns what's most important in life from the guy next door.

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man.

College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way.
In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams.
There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about
the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son.

He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The
funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old
newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

"Jack, did you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought
of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him, he'd ask how you
were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side
of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make
sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said.

"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this
business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me
things he thought were important. Mom, I'll be there for the funeral,"
Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his
hometown.

Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of
his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his mom stopped by to
see the old house next door one more time.

Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing
over into another dimension, a leap through space and time.

The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories.
Every picture, every piece of furniture...

Jack stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong, Jack?" his mom asked.

"The box is gone," he said.

"What box?" Mom asked.

"There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I
must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell
me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said.

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered
it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had
taken it.

"Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better
get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from
work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox.

"Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the
main post office within the next three days," the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package.

The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years
ago.

The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his
attention.

"Mr. Harold Belser" it read.

Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There
inside was the gold box and an envelope.

Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett.

It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the
letter.

His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the
box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his
fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover.

Inside he found these words engraved:
"Jack, Thanks for your time! Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most...was...my time."

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and
cleared his appointments for the next two days.

"Why?" Janet, his assistant asked.

"I need some time to spend with my son," he said.

"Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!"

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take
but by the moments that take our breath away."


~Author Unknown~

Bob Breeden
07-12-2003, 10:03 AM
"At this moment I consider myself among the most fortunate people in the world. It is not about money, but about happiness, and about friendship."

Seems like you hit the nail on the head, Steve.

With Supercub.Org, you've created an avenue to enable us otherwise independent-minded Supercub pilots to communicate.

Thanks,
Bob Breeden

Gunny
07-12-2003, 11:06 PM
removed

SJ
07-14-2003, 09:51 AM
It is my privilege and pleasure...

sj