Lessons on Draught

Original post:  Oct 30, 2020

This seldom-enjoyed taste of beer sends me right back to the Yuengling tap at Whiting Field.  I'm not a beer drinker - and the fact that this Belgian import just reminded me of Yuengling would make many the craft-connoisseur cringe - but I do credit these bitter bubbles for any bit of successful public speaking I've enjoyed in adulthood.

I'm rewinding the clock about a decade for this memory: The privilege of standing up with my flight students, at the end of the syllabus, and publicly roasting them in front of family and comrades.  It terrified me every time, but a single solo cup of Yuengling later, I would consistently bring the room to tears.  With a little help from props, some hilarious antics from which to choose, a healthy dose of genetic blessings, humility and a beer in the belly, the lesson is this:
1) Draught beer, in moderation = Easier public speaking.

I'm in a weird place.  Not only am I on a weird staff*, and in a foreign country, trapped alongside you all in a pandemic, but I'm also in a weird place wondering "how did I get here?" and "where to next?"  I've spent a career in the air and now I ride a pendulum between "I can make a difference" and unexpected kicks in the face.
(*Staff, in the Navy world, is the part of the bureaucracy that specifically supports the Admirals and their ability to execute decisions.  The staff I'm on supports six Admirals, a very high-ranked civilian, and a political advisor from the State Department.  They're all big deals.)

What better time than now to list some lessons learned thus far?

I'm not sure these will help anyone to be more successful in a military or civilian line of employment, or in a generic leadership or life-and-death endeavour, but who am I to be stingy? 
Enjoy.  Critique. These aren't all-inclusive, but most of them are fresh.

2) Find a trusted peer: Quickly.
Sometimes your job is hard.  Sometimes people are dumb, and jerks.  If you don't have the right person with whom to commiserate, or to bounce things off of, or to proofread what you think might be the perfect retort, work life can be very isolating and downright hopeless at times.  This person might not even be in your organization: But chances are, someone out there is doing the same job somewhere else.  Find them.  Vent to them.  Bring them freaking chocolate chip cookies.

3) People really don't like to hear that their 'stuff' is 'messed up.' 
I had a Master Chief who used a different phrasing for this when he described me, his boss, with what sounded like affection.  "Oh, she'll tell you when your 'stuff' is 'messed up'!" 
This is all fun and games - and quite effective when properly delivered - if you're working with the salt of your trade.  But at the higher levels, best to keep your mouth shut unless someone is really going to get hurt. 
Don't like it?  Move on and create a different dynamic in your start-up organization.

4) Get your butt home for dinner.
This is not original.  I've heard this advice, and I've lived by it ever since I became a working mom.  There will be days that demand it, but 29 days out of 30, I'm out the door by 5:00, ringer on silent once I pull up to my house.  
Most of my "customers" are on time zones 6+ hours earlier than mine.  I stopped answering e-mails after 4:30 p.m. on weekdays, and guess what happened: The expectation of immediate response after that time was quickly reduced.
The best part?  The people who work for me have become more efficient and they're all home for dinner too.

5) Don't opt for the extra work phone.
Compartmentalize your work life.  Also, see #4.

6) "Quick to listen, slow to speak."
I recently intercepted an e-mail from a subordinate, meant for someone else, dogging my organization and - bonus - assuming I'm a man.  I've been sitting on this one for about 48 hours and have come up with several witty responses, none of which I've sent.  I probably won't send any of them.
a) E-mail war is beneath you.  E-mails can be kept forever!
b) James didn't mean for others' words to be held against them when he wrote this scripture.  I know what I need to know about this young man (the e-mail author, not James), and now I know how much I can trust him the next time we work together.
(Plus, he'll probably figure out the intercept on his own in time, and the anticipation of retaliation may cause him protracted agony, which is better.)

7) Give the people who work for you the benefit of the doubt.  But be careful who you choose to follow.
I've been commissioned in the Navy for 17 years and I still can't figure out who to look up to. 
But the people for whom I'm responsible have never let me down.
I can't explain this one.  The data speaks for itself.

8) Ignorance (and inexperience) really is bliss.
I can not count the number of times a scenario went down like this:  Hairy situation in a helicopter with someone less experienced.  After landing, I'm actively praying my thanks for another day on this earth, and the youngster says "That. Was. AWESOME!!!"
If you are currently ignorant, enjoy the bliss.  

9) Garbage in equals garbage out, and Crossfit is good for you.
Yup. Work out until you pass out, but if you are eating and drinking whatever you want, you'll just be a strong frame under a layer of happy fat.  Own it or change it.
Also, don't hate on a good Crossfit organization.  I'm at my mental-health peak when I'm part of one.

10) Call your mom.
I can't get to mine.  It's killing me.

More to follow; love to hear yours!

"I land at zero."

"Hiccckk!  Hicckk!!  Hicckk!!! Hi--"
Darkness.
Rock music?
Why is there a blue jet in front of me?
Oh!  I'm part of the Blue Angel practice today!

I successfully made it through the first 7.5-G maneuver.  On the second, I lost a bit of vision around the edges.  On the 3rd, naptime.  Repeat.

I've kept up with my friend Declan for years.  He was in my first fleet squadron in San Diego and I've bumped in to him sporadically since then.  He's on his last tour before retirement:  Maintenance Officer for the Blue Angels (the grand finale of an impressive career!).  A few months ago he asked if I'd be interested in flying with them, to which I answered, "Yes! and When?"  Yesterday he made it happen.

I will not do this day justice in writing with regard to its level of Epic.  Judge my priorities if you must, but it will remain in my memories alongside life experiences such as the births of my children and Andrew's & my wedding on the Blackwater River.  Perhaps this is the category of 'Things I will never regret but also have the ability to completely kick my a$$.'

Declan escorted me and my Aunt & Uncle in to the squadron spaces where he gave us a brief tour, showed them to VIP seating, and ushered me to the ready room.  The BLUE ANGELS' ready room.  Soon after filed in a trickle of support personnel and pilots, and despite the level of celebrity present, I felt at home in this environment of Naval aviators and the people who safely send us off.  I won't go in to the seemingly sacred rituals and professionalism that I witnessed throughout the brief, because I believe those are for the folks who have earned their place in that room, and the few of us fortunate enough to be invited in for a glimpse.  But I will share this:  The last thing the pilots did was pray together.

Nate Barton is the #4 "Slot" pilot and he'd hold my life in his hands for an hour.  We went through API (flight school indoc) just a few months apart.  My peer is now a senior Blue Angel.  Nate reiterated much of what Declan said would happen during the flight and added, "I have zero expectation for you to contribute to the flight today."  Well, good!

My very own crew chief got me strapped in, showed me how to turn on the GoPro pointed at my face, and reminded me not to pull the ejection handle once it's "hot."  Roger that.  How about I just keep my hands on these 'Oh sh!t' handles conveniently located at shoulder height.

Then the boys sharply marched out, hopped in, closed the canopy, and fired up the engines.

Oh. My. Word.

This is happening!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We taxiied out in an organized fashion that reminded me of Kindergarteners heading out to recess.  Boss (squadron CO, an O-6), was lively and calming on the radios from the get-go until after landing.  His voice was a constant presence with an experienced cadence that could not help but be followed with graceful precision, obedience, and the urge to please.  (Not that it was any of my business.  But his leadership seemed so natural, and appropriately tailored to the team.) 

And we were off.

The first half of the flight was a lot of, "Ooohh, wow!"  What a gorgeous day!  Look how close that airplane is!  I wonder if his wingtip will lightly bump our canopy?  (It's only 10-12 inches away, after all.)  "Wheeee, we're upside-down!"  "Look, Ma, I'm hanging by my seat belt!  My knees are floating!"  Boss said we could take pictures!  Aileron rolls are fun!  'So that's what afterburner looks like 5 feet over my head!'  We're screaming down at the earth but I'm not afraid!  "I'm .... so ..... happy.......!!!"

The second half of the flight was GAME ON.

Nate impressed the hell out of me.  Not only was he DOING THIS, he was narrating everything that was coming up so I'd have some warning - especially for the high-G maneuvers.  Once things got ... 'heated,' I could hear him breathing and working hard over the hot-mike while still keeping his passenger in mind.  Somewhere in between blackouts the narration became abbreviated to, "here comes another tough one," and, "you still with me, T-Rex?" 

I will admit that I started watching the clock on the Go-Pro sometime during this phase of the flight.  My barf bag came out but was surprisingly not needed. 

We finally pulled through one more turn which I miraculously remember, and came in for landing.  "We'll be doing this landing at 140 knots," No. 4 says.  "I'm used to landing at zero!" I reply.  Apparently that's pretty funny to a jet guy.

As we rolled in and waved to the mob standing in front of the museum, I reiterated, "I can't believe you do this EVERY DAY."  Nate assured me that he's used to it and said, "I'd probably be sick to my stomach landing a helicopter on the back of a boat in pitching seas at night time."  His humility blew my mind.  Or maybe we just understood each other since we all do start with the same indoctrination.

As soon as we shut down, I puked in my bag and wiped my mouth on my sleeve.  Gross.

I somehow made it down the ladder and then the Blue Angels decided to play a joke on me and take my picture with the entire team.  The world was spinning and I wasn't sure what my body was going to do next.  "Cheeeese!!!"

During the debrief Declan stood me up for a few words.  I was floored by what he said about my friendship.  I underestimate what kindness and keeping in touch means to people, because the two are so rarely, consistently received. 

I got some pretty sweet SWAG which only pushed the team's hospitality over the top.  They had been nothing but welcoming from the moment I stepped in to the ready room.

My good friend also pointed out to the team that he'd chosen me for the flight because, having left Active Duty and come back, I had a real appreciation for Naval Aviation.  He's right.  I have tried to quit three times and this is the path to which I always stagger back.  In order to be volunteered for a ride, one has to be Active Duty or a high-[positive]-press celebrity.  To the list of things I would have missed out on, add "Best seat in the house."

'Appreciation' is only one word to describe my relationship with this calling.  I occasionally cross another pilot who has that twinkle in his/her eye for what we do -- one which I constantly tried to impart on all my students at Whiting -- And I am beyond thankful for the re-charge of that spark today.