Dear David,

Friday was a beautiful day for flying — warm and sunny and the skies were clear. The kind of day where we’d race to Cherry Ridge to pick up the Tri-Pacer, and you’d laugh at me for hesitating along the drive past the horse farms because I’d want to take a few photos along the way, muttering “oh phooey, I’ll stop next time” because winter days are too short for photo op delays. You knew how much I loved to fly and would never refuse a trip when you wanted to go up.

It was one of those gorgeous winter days, ripe for a flight. But we didn’t fly today. I only thought about it.

I let Hugh out to enjoy the sunshine, and he took his usual route of circling the house umpteen times and sniffing the hedges. I always supervise him and don’t permit Bailey the neighbour cat to go near him, lest they get into a fight. From what I can see, Hugh isn’t interested in Bailey, anyway, he cowers in the bushes the whole time. You’d be glad to know he comes when I call him now, I don’t have to lure him with treats anymore. more…

At the memorial, when I spoke about how David and I met, I mentioned that David wrote an e-mail to my boss at the time, asking if he would allow thanking him for allowing me to work out of Pennsylvania. [Edit: I realised by this e-mail it was approved; this was essentially the follow-up note.]

From: David Fielding
Date: October 18, 2004 8:55:08 AM EDT
To: [my boss]
Subject: Hello, and thank you

Dear Sir,

I am writing to inform you that I have fallen in love with one of your employees…

And to thank you, on her behalf and mine, for letting her work remotely from Pennsylvania for a while. Gail speaks very highly of you; and I can tell that she is very devoted to her job, and to you. I look forward to meeting you myself to thank you in person.

This means a lot to us. Gail and I feel very strongly about one another, and our main hardship to overcome is distance. This arrangement will allow us to do that, and let our relationship grow. I will, of course, do everything I can to equip a home office so that Gail can work effectively from here. And no less than that, I will look after all her needs, and take good care of her.

Let me know if you have any questions, or if there is anything else I can do for you.

Warm regards,

David Fielding

No-one could have predicted how precious little time David and I had; we were also separated by 4,000kms. I’m grateful to our employers for being understanding of our situation — both made concessions to allow us to be together. I’ll never forget that.

cosy cockpit — March 12, 2005

Since we met, David had been teaching me aviation concepts, principals of flying, airplane maintenance, and safety. He showed me the transponder and told me which codes to input for various scenarios, how to notify Air Traffic Control. My official “ground schooling” was planned, but he fell ill and we concentrated on flying purely for enjoyment and sparing any energy he would’ve otherwise spent on instruction. As it was, we always erred on the side of caution when flying while he was in treatment, and — armed only with a very limited knowledge of flying — I helped him the best I could, to monitor gauges and watch for other aircraft.

We loved to fly together, but we knew in this situation there could only be one Pilot-in-Command. When there is more than one pilot present, a PIC must be chosen beforehand to make the ultimate decision at the controls, but it goes without saying it’s always good to have more than one pilot. For this reason, David was keen on teaching me as soon as possible, even just after we’d met.

more…

When I moved out of my apartment in January, I had to toss out a gigantic heap of stuff. It was ridiculous to think the hoarding could continue apace without reaching critical mass, i.e. fire hazard proportions. After all, the apartment was 565 sq. ft!

That didn’t seem to deter me while I was living there; I made quite good use of the space. I kept theatre programs, playbills, museum maps, postcards, in-flight magazines, correspondence, all my university textbooks (didn’t re-sell a single one) and custom courseware, obsolete foreign currency (Dutch guilders, deutschemarks, Irish punts, etc.), thousands of photographs, CDs in languages I don’t speak, concert tickets, all my credit card receipts for the past five years, software installation disks, assorted cables, filters, hardware manuals, maps and mapbooks, all the greeting cards I’ve managed to hold onto in my many moves (birthdays, thanks, congratulations, Christmas, announcements), files of old CVs, Canadian citizenship papers, charity fundraisers I’ve been involved with, car repairs, all the university papers and lecture notes I’ve ever written, business cards from people I haven’t seen in over a decade, the list is endless…

Most of the documents I keep for CYA (Cover Your Ass) reasons, in case I get audited, or there’s a discrepancy with my taxes, or billing agencies try and tell me I signed up for A and I’d purchased B, or I wonder if I’ve learned anything at SFU.

The rest, the memorabilia, is for me. Not in case I ever get Alzheimer’s or anything debilitating — if I do, I’d like to look at people’s faces rather than root around in dusty bric-a-brac — but to re-live certain fleeting moments in time and reflect on life.

Now that I no longer inhabit an apartment but a house (with an attic and basement, even! essential spaces for the consummate hoarder!), I doubt the ritualistic squirrelling away of seemingly worthless items will ever subside. If anything, David is an even more diligent hoarder than I am. For one thing, he’s not moved around as much, so his collection is much larger. His collection also includes YEARS of aviation magazines, and large items I could never move from continent to continent, such as the giant wooden antique propeller that graces one wall of our dining room. Years of telling myself “I can’t take that with me!” have conditioned me to always keep my items small and portable.

From time to time since I’ve been here I try and do a big bung-out, get rid of some of the stuff to make more room and promote organisation. Somehow, I don’t buy David’s excuse of “Being messy is a sign of genius!” but I won’t ever make him throw out his memorabilia. Not for selling them on eBay, like his Corgi car, but because I understand very well the sentimental journey we take with our “stuff”. It reminds us of fun times, that life isn’t always bogged down with bread-and-butter activity — it’s punctuated by events and people and places. The sentimental journey puts things in a broader perspective, so that when we find ourselves floundering in the daily grind, wondering if we’re getting ANYWHERE or merely spinning our wheels, we can look back from whence we came and chart some progress (or not, as the case may be… sometimes it’s best to retain some “inner child”). Not just changes with ourselves, but also to ponder the way the world has changed. To that end, I took some photos of tickets that David had lying around. They caught some people’s attention on Flickr (click on photo for comments), the ticket on the left for obvious reasons.

Fielding Airlines took to the unseasonably warm and friendly skies over Manhattan today by request from its favourite frequent flier.

Yeah, that’s me!

I’d write about it now, but the blood required by the brain to compose a blog entry has been rerouted to the digestive tract after dinner with David and his mother at Cooper’s, a restaurant famous in the area for its seafood. We had so much food I think we took home more than we consumed there. So…. sleepy….

For a photo preview, check out the Flickr photos:

Manhattan aerial pics

All in all, a great weekend. Need another day to recover from the weekend.

ADDITIONS MONDAY, FEB 7: David’s corresponding journal entry in Multiply:

Gail and Dave Take Manhattan (Again) (From the Air)

Since David was flying and I was taking the photos, all of the aerial shots in his Flickr album are in mine, too. But, he did upload some photos of the Lockheed Constellation (”Connie”) we encountered at Greenwood Lake airport after our Manhattan fly-by.

ADDITION TUESDAY, FEB 8:

more…

David Fielding

1Lt David L. Fielding
Deputy Commander for Seniors/Mission Pilot/Aerospace Education Officer
Mount Pocono Composite Squadron 207, Civil Air Patrol

Since I’m a sucker for a man in uniform, I thought I’d post a picture of a man in uniform. Except I happen to be engaged to this one.

Last night I accompanied David to his weekly Civil Air Patrol meeting, to shock even more people with the announcement of his engagement. We’d created a buzz at his office, where I’d been placed on Monday because the ADSL hasn’t been installed at the house yet. I’d mentioned I’d passed the Jewish Mom Test on Sunday night. Here was the next stage: meeting his CAP comrades and the cadets.

Les, the Squadron 207 Commander and David’s good friend, accompanied us to the meeting and delighted in the prospect of announcing the engagement during final formation. But, when we arrived at the army base, the state troopers at the point of entry told us I wouldn’t be allowed on the base because I was a foreign national.

Canadian? (Coalition of the Unwilling?)

He really didn’t look like he was going to budge. I silently cursed myself for not bringing my passport, thinking my driver’s license would be satisfactory. The state trooper took my license into his office and told us to pull over while he presumably wrote down every digit he could find, make a bunch of phone calls, brew coffee, or whatever else state troopers do to make themselves appear busy and officious.

Eventually he let us through, after David and Les informed him of their rankings, and we headed off to the meeting. I was shown around, and there were more than a few curious people, wondering who I was. At Les’ request, David kept hush-hush about the engagement, and I was introduced as his friend to the others. After the “50-cent tour” (a senior member’s words, not mine), a cadet class (runway markings) and a senior members’ class (weight and balance), it was final formation and the Big Announcement. Les started out by introducing me as a visitor from Vancouver at the beginning of the announcements, and at the end, after correcting himself a couple of times — “Miss Edwards” then “Miss Edwins” — he laughed it off by saying they could just refer to me as “Mrs. Fielding”…

Mrs. Fielding! (Trying it on for size, here.)

There was a stunned silence in the room, then a chorus of disbelief: “Nooooo…..” Which sounds bizarre, but in the context of the “consummate bachelor” reputation David had earned during his CAP days, it was obvious there were some people who just couldn’t believe he was getting married. What that meant for the cadets was that they’d have to finally share him — David dedicates a large amount of his free time with his cadets, who number around 45-50 or so. What that meant for the senior members was that they’d have a youngin’ in their midst. At least I’m young somewhere. After attending numerous lectures on the SFU campus with kids younger than my car, this is a welcome change, indeed. Secretly, though, I think they’re thinking I’ll steal David away to the Left Coast…

driving in NYC

Life’s funny, isn’t it? Who would’ve thought I’d be writing this, sitting in a printing plant, typing on my PowerBook beside David Fielding, who’s typing away on his Mac, as his colleagues walk by and check us out (yes, I’m a real person, not a figment of David’s imagination).

Had a lovely weekend in New York City, but I’ll get David to write about it. *Mush alert* It was unbearably romantic. I also met David’s mom last night, and I am relieved to report that I have passed the Mom Test. It’s not one of those tests one can study for, so my nervous system can relax now…

The Weekend Report, by David Fielding

I’m back, although:

1) I’m not a better writer than Gail;
2) We both remember the details (and they aren’t all here);
3) No one will believe a word of this, since Gail did not take any photos!

Gail returned to Pennsylvania this weekend, by way of New York; and since I exhausted all of the entertainment possibilities of Scranton last time, we spent Saturday night in Manhattan. I met Gail at the airport (and managed not to miss her at the gate - unlike last time!). The greeting was much warmer this time, and I took her bags and we drove into the city.

I had kept the plans a secret, until we parked the car. Being of a literary bent, and a history geek, I chose the historic Algonquin Hotel, haunt of Dorothy Parker, George S. Kaufman and Gertrude Stein. It was also, I recently found, the home of one of my grandmother’s sisters in the 1930s; my mother clearly recalls visiting there over the summers as a little girl. It was restored to pristine original condition some years ago, and the service is excellent. We had a courtyard room on the top floor, with a view. (If you opened the bathroom window and stood on the toilet, you could see the Chrysler building!)

I had made reservations for a late-night supper and a table in the Oak Room for the cabaret show. It featured Jeremy Davenport, an amazing vocalist-trumpeter in a four-piece jazz set. We finally got our food very late - during the show, which was a bit embarrassing, because we were at the center table immediately in front of the musicians. Davenport and his pianist, Thaddeus Richards, kidded us and looked longingly at our entrees. The set was amazing; an intimate performance with four brilliant jazz musicians, in the dark-panelled Oak Room. The songs were classic Sinatra-era love songs:

I�ve got the world on a string,
I’m sitting on a rainbow,
got the string around my finger…
What a world, what a life - I’m in love!

After the show it was past 1:00 am, but we were not at all ready to sleep. We left the hotel and strolled around Manhattan, walked through the theater district to Times Square. The weather was mild for the season, and we chatted and strolled. We stopped in a rather American Irish pub for a drink, and at an all-night deli for a grilled panini. During the past few weeks we have spent long hours on the phone in conversation; now, walking together again, the pace of the talk slowed and we were at ease to enjoy ourselves. We enjoyed ourselves.

It was, as Gail said, “unbearably romantic”. Just the sort of evening that makes one want many, many more; when everything is perfect, and time stands still. A man might ask a woman to marry him, on an evening like this.

One did.

with Jamie and Eric

with Rob and Marlene (& Eric & Jamie’s baby Lillie)

It’s been an interesting week of people activity. I got an e-mail from my friend Eric down in California to inform me that he’s now the CFO for Banana Republic and they’ve moved to San Francisco! Eric and Jamie had been in the L.A.-area a few years as Eric was CFO of Tickets.com. Before that they were in the D.C.-area as Eric was CFO of Choice Hotels. My, that guy gets around. It was great to see both he and Rob last year — it was a total surprise to see Rob, I had no idea where he was living. When I rang Eric’s doorbell, I was shocked beyond belief to see them both standing there! It had been more than 10 years since we’d all been together, and so much has changed since then.

I wrote about the visit on a page in my Geocities site, which I don’t really keep up anymore. I’ve copied the story and pasted it here:

How I met Rob and Eric:

At the end of 1990 I was a Kermit-green 18 years of age and working at Banff Rocky Mountain Resort’s sports facilities when I met these two nutters from California, Eric and Rob. In the middle of what was soon to become one of the harshest winters in Banff’s history, Eric from L.A. and Rob from Sacramento showed up and settled into a house on the main strip that had no central heating and a landlady named Suki who regaled me with stories from her stint as a bathroom attendant in Italy. Believe me, it was still an upgrade from living in staff accommodation, so I moved in, too! There was also later another housemate, Noel, from Nova Scotia, who thought nothing of answering the door in his underwear and was obviously unfazed by temperatures of -50C (with or without the wind chill factor, it’s enough to crack ski boots). That winter for Rob and Eric was legendary. It is just like a fishing story — the recalled temperatures keep dropping as the years go by. What I can remember distinctly is that Rob and Eric bought space heaters for their rooms, while I toughed it out and slept under the weight of no less than 7 wool blankets. (As a footnote, the house was condemned by the Health Authority and we had to move, but it turned out the town wanted the land to build a clinic. When I visited Banff in September 2000, the lot was still empty. [I was there again November 2002 and February 2003, and it was still empty.])

Fast forward from that crazy winter to the next time I see Rob and Eric together, less than one year later, at the end of 1991, as I am about to head off to Australia with a freshly-purchased airline ticket but no itinerary past the next day. Eric and Rob are living in a house in Redondo Beach, along with an aspiring actor named Craig who is Axel Rose’s personal assistant, regaling to their then-girlfriends Jamie and Marlene — and all other captive audiences — stories of braving the relentless Arctic Canadian winter…

Fast forward more than 10 years to January 2002: 3 weddings and 4 kids later, Eric, Jamie, Rob (and, later, Marlene) and I are sitting around Eric and Jamie’s kitchen, eating brunch and marvelling at the flight of time. Rob and Marlene’s two kids are already in primary school, and Eric and Jamie also have a couple of wee ones. Those Banff days seem like lightyears in the past, but that Sunday when I rang Eric’s doorbell and the two nutters answered the door, it was like entering a time warp — they looked exactly the same! Eric and Rob turn 40 this year and say they will write their memoirs. I’m going to read the chapter on “the winter in Banff” with great interest to see how cold it *really* was.

Fedor in Brussels, April 25

I also finally heard from my friend Fedor, a Dutch guy I’ve known for nearly as long as Rob and Eric but have seen a lot more often on various trips over the years. I saw Fedor briefly in Brussels at the end of April, where he was on a contract for the European Union. I was only in Brussels for the day, since I went to Amsterdam to visit some other friends, and was on my way to Bergamo, Italy, to meet up with the other Chickens — Iris and Christa, and also my best friend Lucy, her fiance John and her son Joe, who were flying in from England. So we only had time for a beer and some conversation before I had to head off, but it’s ALWAYS good to do this, even when the time is short, because you just never know when you’re going to see people again.

Now Fedor’s on another contract, this time for Mastercard, and he tells me his Thai wife is finally getting her visa to come and stay with him, after being in Thailand for more than a year. Fedor and Da were married in Thailand probably less than two years ago, but because of the visa restrictions and her mother’s health, it’s difficult for them to be together.

I met Fedor on May 4, 1992, in Australia. I remember that day very clearly. I’d seen a note at the youth hostel in Melbourne that this Scottish guy was going to Sydney in a van and was looking for paying passengers. So I rang this guy, Lachlan, and told him that I wanted to go to Sydney to pick up some stuff and look for work, and we agreed to meet the next day at the youth hostel where he’d left the note. I’d waited and waited and waited, then finally went to the front desk to see if they knew anything about someone waiting for me. Well, Fedor and Lachlan were standing right there, and apparently they were expecting a “Canadian girl,” and obviously in their minds that wasn’t me!

Fedor had answered Lachlan’s ad, too, so the three of us embarked on a journey from Melbourne to Sydney that would normally take 12 hours. We took two weeks.

It was an adventure that sparked even more adventures, which led to other events in my life that would never have happened if I hadn’t answered that little ad on a Post-It note square. Some good, some not so good. But never a dull moment.