An Anniversary and Memories

I tend to view my life as a long succession of specific events, and I suppose that's normal. I suspect most of us measure the passage of our lives by the unique, special days that occasionally occur. For example, I can actually recall much that happened on the day I graduated from Archbishop Stepinac High School in White Plains, NY back in June 1962. But I have absolutely no recollection of anything that took place on the days immediately preceding or following it. Certain events in life just don't seem to achieve the level of importance demanded by our faulty memories. 

There are, of course, exceptions. Some years ago, during my days as a Navy pilot, I had a friend, now deceased, who spent many years as a prisoner of war in North Vietnam. The communists treated him abominably, tortured him frequently, and forced him to spend most of that time in solitary confinement. He told me that he had never thought of his memory as anything but average. In fact, he said in college he had struggled with foreign languages and organic chemistry because both demanded so much of his memory. But then he was thrown into solitary confinement in Hanoi. He was not yet 30 years old, and in an attempt to maintain his sanity, he began to review his life, working backward in time, trying to remember everything he could. He was surprised by how much he was able to retrieve, and came to believe that every detail of his life was stored away in brain cells. He just had to learn how to access it all. He got to the point where he could remember the names and faces of every child in his first grade class. (I can remember only one: Bonnie Trompeter, a beautiful little girl who I later learned went on to become a supermodel. That tells you more about me than about Bonnie or my memory.)

As for my life, the key events begin with a day I cannot remember: my Baptism in 1944, at the age of 11 days. I do, however, remember my first communion and confirmation -- first communion because it was in Bridgeport, Connecticut where we lived while our Larchmont, NY house was leased to another family (We had just returned from Germany); and confirmation at age 10 because I was enamored of a cute, little red-haired girl named Sherry. (There seems to be a pattern here.) 

Yes, I was a fairly normal kid, if a bit skinny, with many extraordinary talents, as depicted in the following photos;

Little League Athlete 

Concert Pianist

Future Aviator - Model Airplane

Of course I have many other memories -- the years our family spent in Panama City Beach, Florida and Heidelberg, Germany back in the early 1950s. High school is a bit of a blur, but in the midst (or mist) of it all I can actually recall dozens of events, many good, some not so good. I won't bore you with details of my year at Georgetown's School of Foreign Service or my four years at the U.S. Naval Academy. In general those were five good years during which I made many lifelong friends and even learned a few useful things.

On September 16, 1967 I met Dear Diane on a blind date, an event that changed my life for the good. This was followed by two other events that occurred only two weeks apart. Diane and I were married in Pensacola, Florida on November 2, 1968 and I received my Navy pilot's Wings of Gold on November 15. The former was far more important, but the latter wasn't too shabby.

Just Married - 2 November 1968

This leads me to the anniversary I celebrate today. 50 years ago, on April 17, 1970, I was the co-pilot of the recovery helicopter that picked up the Apollo 13 astronauts when they returned from their ill-fated mission to the moon. Chuck Smiley, our squadron's commanding officer was the pilot, and as his co-pilot I got to tag along. When I wasn't taking pictures with my old Leica iiiF, he actually let me take the controls for a while. Chuck, who died just a few years ago, was one of those remarkable people who shape the lives of others. He certainly shaped mine. Chuck was my hero, a very special man who taught me more than even I will ever know.

Recovery Helicopter Crew - Apollo 13

Over the years I've been asked many times to speak about the Apollo 13 recovery. Eventually I put together a slide show, and then a PowerPoint presentation, to tell the key parts of the story. Here's a link to the presentation, should you want to relive that now-ancient history.

Apollo 13 Recovery Presentation

I suppose I'll continue to remember that day in 1970, perhaps even little shreds of it when I'm locked away in one of Florida's many memory care facilities. My hope, of course, is that my body does not outlive my memory.