[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 146 (2000), Part 16]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page 23724]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



                           WINGS OF KINDNESS

                                 ______
                                 

                           HON. RALPH M. HALL

                                of texas

                    in the house of representatives

                       Thursday, October 19, 2000

  Mr. HALL of Texas. Mr. Speaker, I have waited almost a year to place 
this story in the Congressional Record. Let's call it an early 
Christmas story--about the simple but powerful gift of kindness, in 
this case bestowed by two pilots on a young boy on Christmas Eve. Art 
Hendon of Terrell, TX, shared this with me in December of last year, 
and I am honored to share it with my colleagues today.

       Sometimes the most important gifts are given unwittingly. I 
     set about checking the instruments in preparation for my last 
     flight of the day, a short hop from Atlanta to Macon, GA. It 
     was 7:30 P.M. Christmas Eve, but instead of forking into 
     Mom's turkey dinner, I was busy getting other people home to 
     their families.
       Above the low buzz of talking passengers, I heard a rustle 
     behind me. I looked over my shoulder. Just outside the 
     cockpit doorway was a fresh-faced boy of about nine gazing 
     intently at the flight deck. At my glance he started to turn 
     away.
       ``Hold up,'' I called. ``Come on in here.'' I had been 
     about his age when I first saw a flight panel lit up like a 
     Christmas tree and I could hardly wait to get my pilot's 
     wings. But now that I was 24 and first officer at a commuter 
     airline, I wondered if I'd made the right choice. Here I was 
     spending my first Christmas Eve away from home, and what was 
     I accomplishing? How was I making my mark in the world, let 
     alone doing God's work, just hauling people from city to 
     city?
       The boy stepped cautiously into the cockpit. ``My name's 
     Chad,'' I said, sticking out my hand. With a shy smile he put 
     his hand in mine. ``I'm Sam.'' He turned to the empty seat 
     beside me. ``Is that for the captain?''
       ``It sure is and that's where Captain Jim sits.'' I patted 
     the worn fabric. ``Would you like to try it out?''
       Sam blinked at me from under this ball cap. ``I don't know 
     . . . I mean . . . well, sure if it's okay.'' I lowered the 
     seat so he could slide into it.
       The captain loved to give demonstrations of the plane's 
     gadgets to kids, but what would he think about one sitting in 
     his seat? Well, it's Christmas, I thought.
       I glanced out at the luggage carts being wheeled toward the 
     plane, thinking of the gifts I wouldn't be able to give in 
     person to my parents and friends the next day. Sam told me he 
     and his family had flown in from Memphis.
       I checked my watch. The captain would be in any minute, but 
     Sam looked so thrilled, I didn't want to cut short his fun. I 
     gave the instrument panel another once-over, telling Sam what 
     each button and lever did.
       Finally Captain Jim clambered aboard, ``Howdy, partner.'' 
     He gave Sam a broad grin. ``You know, son,'' he drawled, ``I 
     don't mind you staying with us for a while if you'll switch 
     with me.'' Sam let the captain take his place and I made 
     introductions.
       We began previewing the startup checklist. I kept thinking 
     the captain would send Sam away, but the boy was still 
     peering over my shoulder when the ramp agent radioed to ask 
     if we were ready to turn on the first engine in start 
     sequence, number four. I relayed the question to the captain, 
     who was studying the weather reports.
       ``I'm still going over these,'' he said. ``You guys go 
     ahead and start it.''
       ``Okay, starting . . .'' I said, positioning the switches. 
     Then I did a double take. `Did you say you guys'?''
       ``Yeah, go ahead.''
       I looked over at the captain, and back at the fight panel. 
     ``Right.'' I flicked on the plane's flashing red beacon to 
     signal the start. Then I turned to my new assistant.
       ``You ever start an airplane before, Sam?''
       Eyes wide, he shook his head. Following my instructions, 
     Sam carefully turned a knob on the overhead console that 
     switched on the igniters. then he pressed a button as big as 
     his hand to start the engine. Finally, with both hands he 
     slid forward a lever to introduce the fuel. The engine hummed 
     to life.
       Sam slowly let go of the lever and stepped back, awestruck. 
     He'd gotten to start an airplane, an honest-to-goodness 
     airliner. I'm not sure if I'd have believed it myself at his 
     age. I thanked Sam for helping us out.
       ``No, thank you, sir,'' Sam said. ``This was really 
     great!''
       As he backed out of the doorway into the cabin, the plane 
     resonated with the sound of the engine he'd started. ``You 
     have a merry Christmas, son, you hear?'' the captain said.
       Sam looked like he was about to cry with happiness. ``I 
     will, sir, I will. Thank you!'' With one last look at the 
     flight deck he turned and walked down the aisle. We started 
     up the other engines, took off, and arrived in Macon about 40 
     minutes later. Early Christmas morning, as we settled into 
     the cockpit for the trip back to Atlanta, one of the gate 
     agents ducked in. ``Hey, guys, some kid's mother came by this 
     morning. She wanted to make sure I thanked you for showing 
     her son around last night. Said he couldn't stop talking 
     about the cockpit. She left this for you.''
       The gate agent set a red tin on the center console.
       ``Well, I'll be,'' the captain said. He bit into one of the 
     chocolate chip cookies from the tin. Then he unfolded the 
     note taped to its cover and read it silently. He sighed 
     deeply and turned to me, ``Boy's got cancer,'' he said, and 
     read the note aloud:
       Dear Sirs, Thank you for allowing Sam to watch you work on 
     Christmas Eve night. Sam has cancer and has been undergoing 
     chemotherapy in Memphis. This is the first time he has been 
     home since the treatment began. We drove Sam up to the 
     hospital, but since he loves airplanes, we decided to fly him 
     back home. I am not sure if he will ever get to fly again. 
     His doctor has said that Sam may have only a few months left. 
     Sam has always dreamed of becoming an airline pilot. The 
     flight we took from Memphis to Atlanta was exhilarating for 
     him. He wasn't sure flying on one of your ``little'' 
     airplanes would be as much fun, but you two gentlemen gave 
     him the greatest Christmas gift imaginable. For a few short 
     minutes his dream came true, thanks to you.
       I looked out at the runway gleaming before us in the sun. 
     When I turned back to Jim, he was still staring at the note. 
     A flight attendant came in and said the passengers were ready 
     for departure. She stowed the cookies away and we went 
     through the checklist. Then Captain Jim cleared his throat 
     and called out, ``Starting number four.''
       I'd wanted to be home with my loved ones, exchanging gifts 
     for the holidays. But that little boy showed me that 
     sometimes the most important gifts we give are given 
     unwittingly and the most precious ones we get come from 
     strangers. I can serve God's purpose no matter where I am, as 
     long as I let the spirit that moved me that night guide me 
     always.

     

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