It’s hard to put into words the devastation that I feel reading about the terrible vintage aircraft flight tragedy that happened in Connecticut. What makes it even more complicated is the fact that I knew the pilot – Mac McCauley – who is now presumed dead.
Reading his name in a news report and then verifying it from his signature I have from a bazillion years ago, I found myself with a lump in my throat and uncontrolled tears falling from my eyes.
In truth, I didn’t really know the man, albeit between funny “I’m terrified” banter when I made my way onto that B-17 plane 10 years ago, knowing full well I would probably pass out or at the very least throw up from a ride from the Kankakee airport to Palwaukee Airport during a PBS field shoot – I do hate to fly, after all. Even though I volunteered…so it would be all my fault if I lost my cookies. And while I sat frozen in my seatbelt, grabbing the back of my seat headrest while others roamed around the open window aircraft, that experience had such an overwhelming positive experience on my life that a couple days later I dragged my WWII buff Dad to the air show, donated to a yearly membership (which we still have to this day), and took a picture with Mac. He asked me if I had enjoyed the flight and I said I had even though I was terrified. He laughed, and I thanked him for all that he did – keeping the WWII memory alive and for getting us down safely. He told me it was what he loved to do, and he’s glad I had a good time. He gave me a hug, shook my father’s hand, and thanked us for coming.
…
Death is always a hard thing to process. The death of Anthony Bourdain literally broke me in two, while the death of Chris Cornell devastated Music Man, but would eventually inspire him as well. We knew neither of these people personally, yet they affected each of us so deeply. So I understand why the tears came so naturally upon reading Mac’s name. He may not have even known my name, but his impact on my life is great. And this horrible tragedy just puts life in perspective again and makes me ponder and question it, knowing I’ll never make sense of it all.
The victims of that flight were people who had a shared passion in continuing the legacy of WWII and my heart grieves for all of them and their families. The only solace I can conjure up is knowing that Mac truly loved what he did, and he and the legacy of that B-17 “909” will forever be missed.
