A Gift Of Wings

One of my most enduring hopes was learning to fly an airplane. For some reason, I never did. The closest I got was an interview for a job with the national airline but flunked the last question! Nonetheless the sight of a plane in the sky - no matter if it was a small biplane or a majestic airliner, always sparks something exciting, intriguing, and adventurous.

The other passion was writing. That was triggered when I was around 11 or 12 by my god brother who had gifted me a small hand made booklet filled with original drawings of Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution, popular song lyrics with its guitar chords embedded, and a few pages on history and some other topics I can’t recall. Inadvertently, he had touched a raw nerve. A doorway had opened.

Next was my English literature teacher when I was 13, when we had to read George Orwell’s Animal Farm as part of the curriculum. Our minds were boggled when we found out the deeper meanings of the cruel farmer and ill treated animals, rebellion and overthrow, corruption and power play, communism and capitalism. Little did he know but Mr. Foo had made us all wannabee readers and writers. Hence, the biweekly cycling trips to the local library where we feasted on Alistair MacLean’s thrillers. We dutifully finished off his entire series within the next year.

I wrote sporadically. Fell in love with the humble Olivetti typewriter, kept diaries and notebooks, took up a typewriting class, applied for numerous writing jobs with the mainstream newspapers - all to no avail. Meantime, I was already working, at an energy plant, where I met my next mentor - Lee, the photographer and adventurer. He showed me another world - and I got hooked, line and sinker. Spent my hard earned money on a manual Olympus OM2, a couple of lenses and flashes. That was all the gear I used in 20 odd years of film photography. But the adventures we had, from scaling the heights of Kedah Peak to the beaches of Penang, the many weddings as one by one my friends got married, Christmas gatherings with family and relatives, documentation of my son’s early years - all of that and more was the result of meeting Lee at Stesen Janaelektrik Perai on the 1st. of March 1980.

At the same time, my reading had taken the mandatory twists and turns. Out went some genres and in came new ones. Life’s hard knocks elbowed me from the books that I wanted to read to the books I had to read! Soren Kierkegaard said “Life can only be understood backwards, but must be lived forwards”. Looking back, I realize, I was learning all the time - to fly, not necessarily in an airplane, but in life, through turbulent weather, the crash landings that shook me up, the people who came into and touched my life at crucial points.

Fast forward 40 years, I am retired from work now - but am learning to fly again in new directions. “The woods are dark and lovely and deep. There are promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep” - Robert Frost’s poem is a stark reminder of all that is possible.

A former USAF captain and latter day barnstorming pilot Richard Bach chronicles "You are never given a dream without also being given the power to make it come true”. Believing in yourself and your dreams, and taking action to make them a reality. Appreciating that we all have unique talents and gifts to share with the world. Not to hide them away. Now more than ever, in a world that sorely needs inspiration, as we age like good wine, let these inspirational thoughts and words spur us to spread our wings and make a difference in all that we do.

That in a nutshell is what Learning To Fly is all about.