Jim Lovell, R.I.P.

We lost a truly remarkable man on Thursday. Jim Lovell, Navy Captain, Naval Aviator, Gemini and Apollo astronaut, and all-around terrific guy died at the age of 97. I won’t go on about his many accomplishments since you can read all about them on any of the many online obituaries posted to the Internet. I’d rather just say a few words about how I got to know this man who is one of our nation’s true heroes.

Flying Recovery Helo for Apollo 13

I met Jim Lovell on the morning of April 17, 1970, when our crewmen hoisted him and two other astronauts aboard our Navy SH-3D helicopter not long after their Apollo 13 command module splashed down several hundred miles south of American Samoa in the South Pacific. At the time I was the helicopter’s co-pilot and Chuck Smiley, my Commanding Officer, was the pilot. Chuck, who died in 2016, was another of the great ones who had such an impact on my life.

Apollo13 Astronauts: Lovell, Swigert, Haise (L to R)

The Apollo 13 crew -- Jim Lovell, Jack Swigert, and Fred Haise -- had survived a near catastrophic roundtrip to the moon, a mission that forced NASA and this three-man crew to apply all of their knowledge and skills in ways never imagined. If you can't recall the problems that plagued the mission (or if were not alive back then), you can always watch the movie -- Apollo 13 -- or simply click here to read NASA's detailed description of the mission. 

Apollo 13 Splashdown (I took the photo from our helo)

Anyway, when we hoisted the astronauts aboard our helicopter I had never seen three happier men. We brought them aboard one-at-a-time and then flew them to the ship, the USS Iwo Jima (LPH-2), just a few hundred yards away. While their flight to the moon and back had been filled with life-threatening problems, the recovery went smoothly and trouble-free. The photo below depicts our crew (I'm second from left, all of 25 years old).

Crew of "66" -- Apollo 13 Recovery

Later that evening we had the opportunity to meet briefly with the astronauts, something we hadn't been able to do on Apollo 11 and 12, the previous moon landing missions. On those missions the astronauts were immediately isolated in a special housing, along with a NASA doctor. I suppose there was a concern for possible contamination from space-bugs.  

The next day we flew the astronauts to Pago Pago in American Samoa in three separate helicopters. Jim Lovell flew in our aircraft and I asked him if he'd like to take my co-pilot seat and join the Skipper in the cockpit. I'd just take the jump seat right behind them. He loved the idea, and I still recall the first thing he said as he sat down and looked at the instrument panel and the controls: "Wow, these helicopters are sure getting a lot more complicated." This from a man who'd just brought a spacecraft to and from the moon under the worst conditions imaginable.

Jim Lovell & Chuck Smiley Flying to Samoa

We had a great time on the flight and talked a little about their lunar mission. But Captain Lovell was more interested in learning about the work our squadron did when we weren't picking up astronauts. The flight went well, and we were greeted by a huge crowd of happy Samoans at the Pago Pago airport. Also waiting there was a USAF C-141 transport to fly the astronauts back home to the USA. 

Over the past 50+ years, I've probably conducted 200 or more presentations on the Apollo 13 recovery for all kind of groups, large and small. And in recent years, thanks to computers and PowerPoint I have the perfect means to include many of the photographs taken during the recovery. I've always been an avid photographer, and in those days, I was fortunate to own a wonderful Leica camera which I usually carried with me when I flew...hence the photos of the Apollo 13 recovery.

After the Apollo 13 recovery, our squadron got out of the Apollo business and headed west to Vietnam (there was a war going on) aboard the USS Ticonderoga. I had an opportunity to meet Jim Lovell on several subsequent occasions, all involved with spreading the word about the great things that had been done during those Apollo days. He was always pleasant and kind and interested in what had taken place in my very odd life. 

Few know that Jim Lovell was literally a rocket scientist, the perfect educational background for an astronaut. He was also a fellow alumnus of the U. S. Naval Academy, although he graduated quite a few years before my class of 1967. 

Jim lived to the age of 97, no doubt longer than I will live. He lived a long and very productive life, a life devoted to bringing knowledge to the world. But most importantly it was a good life. As a nation, we will miss him. 

May the Lord bless him and keep him always in His heavenly embrace.

Sadness and Hope and Remembrance

Voluntarily (sort of) trapped in our homes, we have all found new ways to occupy ourselves. We pray more. We read more. We probably eat more. We spend more time listening to our favorite music. We stay in closer touch with our families, and even renew old friendships via email and telephone and text. Some folks, especially here in The Villages, play more golf. (Yes, indeed, in The Villages golf is apparently considered an essential activity, and is both allowed and encouraged, so long as everyone follows the usual social distancing guidelines.) And, of course, we're all watching far too much TV. In the words of one friend: "I spend an awful lot of time fending off boredom."

If, however, boredom is our principal complaint, we certainly can't claim to be suffering. I hate to admit it, but I've even grumbled about the inability to get a haircut. But for most of us, to encounter true suffering we must look beyond the walls of our homes. Millions of Americans have lost jobs and, as they wait for government assitance, are unable to make ends meet. Hundreds of thousands of small businesses, the true engines of our economy, have shut down and their owners worry about their ability to restart once things improve. Of course, thousands of Americans have contracted this nasty illness, COVID-19, and far too many have died as a result. I'm not downplaying the effects of their deaths on their families, because the death of a loved one, especially when that death comes suddenly and unexpectedly, is always tragic. But by focusing so much attention on the virus and its immediate effects, we can lose sight of the tragedies and suffering that have continued unabated and are experienced by so many more. 

According to the latest revision of the virus' predictive model, our nation can expect 60,000 deaths as a direct result of this virus. But sometimes it's useful to put such huge numbers into proper perspective. For example, nearly 50,000 Americans will commit suicide this year. And an even greater number will die from drug overdoses. Close to 40,000 Americans will die in automobile accidents. And hundreds of thousands will die from the effects of cancer. 

This last statistic was brought home to Diane and me this week, and to many of our friends, when we lost Donna Slider. After a long battle with cancer, Donna entered hospice just a few days ago and died on Tuesday, April 7. 

Donna was the manager of the Wildwood Soup Kitchen and, like all soup kitchen workers, she was an unpaid volunteer. Diane and I have volunteered there for over 16 years, but while we worked every Thursday, Donna was there almost daily, doing whatever had to be done to keep the kitchen functioning at full speed. She not only worked tirelessly for the good of others, but she did so with a smile. Indeed, it's hard to recall Donna's face without that beautiful, disarming smile. So often I'd approach her all grumpy about some petty irritant, and Donna would just nod understandingly and flash that wonderful smile, as if to say, "It's really not that big a deal, Dana. In an hour's time you'll have forgotten all about it." Of course she was right. She had a way of bringing me back to reality -- to the reality of God's love. 

As you might expect, Donna was a woman of deep faith. I was made very aware of this last year at a special Mass and healing service celebrated at our parish. I had been asked to preach and because of Donna's illness, Diane and I invited her and her husband, Vic, to attend. Both are active Christians, but neither Donna nor Vic are Catholic. But as she said to me later, "Healing is healing. We all seek it and God offers it." Diane and I met with them during the healing service and the four of us experienced God's loving Presence as we prayed for His will to be done in the shared life of this wonderful couple.

Interestingly, Donna and I had another connection. Some years ago, when she first joined the soup kitchen, someone told her of my past life as a Navy helicopter pilot who had been involved in the recovery of Apollo astronauts. She asked me if I knew Glen Slider, her brother-in-law. I couldn't believe it! Back in 1970 Glen was a Navy Chief Petty Officer in our helicopter squadron, HS-4. He was also the first crewman of the primary recovery helicopter for the Apollo 13 recovery operation. I happened to be the co-pilot of that same helicopter. This was truly one of those remarkable "small world" situations that remind us of how interconnected we all are.

On Tuesday our loving God called Donna to Himself. He took her from the anxiety, the pain, and the cares of this life and carried her to the glory of eternal life. When I think about her now, in my mind's eye I see her resting in God's loving embrace. And that smile? Yes, it's even brighter, inviting us to set aside our sadness and remember to share God's love with all His people, especially with those in greatest need.

In a paradoxical, but very real sense, Donna's death has lifted me up. It has freed me from worry about this pandemic and reminded me that the rest of the world hasn't been put on hold. Donna knew that life continues as it always has and we are still called to do God's work in our troubled world. 

In the words of the "Song of Farewell," so often sung at the end of our Catholic funeral liturgies:

May the choirs of angels come to meet you;

May they speed you to paradise.

May the Lord enfold you in His mercy;

May you find eternal life.

Rest in Peace, Donna.
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...and for those who might be interested. Here's a link to a video of my homily at that Mass and healing service last year:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YtaPL8Xkh5A

Western Trip Part 2: Go West, Old Man

I meant to post yesterday, but my world became far too crowded with tasks and other demands to do much of anything else. By the time I had time, I was too tired to think, much less write. Of course, this morning wasn't much better. After 8 a.m. Mass I facilitated our weekly parish Bible Study, then attended a clergy meeting, followed immediately by a liturgy committee meeting, and finally got home at about 1 p.m. For some reason I just don't feel retired. But as Dear Diane is fond of saying, "For someone who loves what you do you sure do complain a lot." And in truth I do enjoy what I do, since being a deacon in our parish is a joy, especially now with our new church almost finished.
Yes, we're building a new church that will seat 1,100 people. Our current building, which began life as a small mission church, seats only about 500 people crammed together in less than moderate comfort. Since over 5,000 people now attend Saturday Vigil and Sunday Masses during our peak (winter) season here in central Florida, we must schedule between nine and eleven Masses every weekend to handle the crowds. Once we move into the new building, sometime in late July, things will improve drastically. But before then there's a lot of work to do, a lot of preparation to be made. It's all very exciting, though. God has certainly blessed our parish, this wonderful community of believers. May He continue to do so.
I'll include some photos of the new church in a future post.
_____________________

Now, back to our trip West...

After our brief stay in Tombstone, Arizona, Dear Diane, Maddie and I continued West, heading for San Diego. We made our way across the desert and then over the mountains just east of San Diego, amazed at all the wind turbines strung out across the landscape. (Warning: editorial comment follows) It will be interesting to see what happens to this government supported industry if the tax credits it has reaped for years actually expire and are not renewed by Congress. This subsidy costs you and me over $6 billion annually and really does little to encourage the development of more efficient sources of energy. Anyway, I really don't support the idea that the federal government should be picking winners and losers in any industry. After all, these are the same folks that brought us the efficiencies of the Veterans Administration. (End of comment)


It was wonderful to once again find ourselves in San Diego and we enjoyed our drive through the city as we let our GPS take us straight to our hotel, the La Quinta Inn in Old Town. (The inn allows dogs and all three of us were ready to get out of the car and relax a bit.) Once checked in and recovered, we called our dear old friends, Sally and Chuck Smiley, and firmed up our dinner plans for the evening.

CAPT C.B. Smiley, USN (Ret.)

Dear Diane and I had been married for only a few short months when we moved into our first home together in San Diego. That was in January 1969. Actually, that first home was in Chula Vista, a San Diego suburb not far from my duty station, a Navy helicopter squadron based at Naval Air Station Imperial Beach. It was there that as a young Lieutenant (j.g.) and fledgling pilot I met then-Commander C. B. Smiley, the squadron's executive officer, and later commanding officer, who for some reason known only to him, took me under his wing and taught me how to be a good naval officer and an even better human being. The student, however, never matched the high standards set by the teacher's own example. And today, when I mentally flip through the pages of my internal encyclopedia and find the entry for "A Good Man", Chuck Smiley stares back at me in my mind's eye. In the same way, his wife, Sally, became Diane's mentor and taught my 22-year-old bride how to survive and flourish as the wife of a naval officer. Sally could do no wrong and there were many conversations in our new family that began with the words, "Well, Sally says..."

Sally and Diane

Early that evening we met Sally and Chuck at their fabulous downtown condo and together made our way to a nice waterfront restaurant, the Pier Cafe, that offered pleasant outdoor seating for both humans and dogs. The seafood and service were quite good, the conversation even better, and the company the best. It was a perfect evening and the USS Midway, now a remarkable naval museum, could be seen from our table.

Chuck, by the way, was a key member of the team responsible for bringing the USS Midway to San Diego and turning it into the city's greatest tourist attraction. If you go to San Diego, be sure to spend some time aboard the Midway. You can't miss it: it's the big aircraft carrier right off Harbor Drive. Check out the website here. 

Midway from the San Diego shoreline

Here's a photo of Chuck, me, and our two crewmen, Mike Longe and Glen Slider shortly before we flew the mission to recover the Apollo 13 astronauts when they returned from their ill-fated trip to the moon and back. We were all a lot younger back in 1970.



The next morning we drove up the coast, marveling at the growth of what were once little seafront towns between San Diego and Los Angeles. After an hour or so of off-highway driving we arived at beautiful Laguna Beach and the hillside home of other dear friends, Darlene and Warren Aut. We've known them both since those early Navy days in that first squadron. Warren was Chuck Smiley's executive officer way back then and went on to achieve flag rank and become Admiral Aut. And Darlene was one of Dear Diane's very best friends; they were loyal Navy wives who supported each other and raised families on their own while their husbands were away for months at a time, flying off of ships in the Pacific Ocean.

View of the Pacific from the Auts' living room

Darlene and Warren have a new dog, an Australian Labradoodle named Sally Benjamin. A bouncy, fluffy little thing, about twice the size of our dog, she and Maddie seemed to get along well during our two-day stay. Diane and I needed the non-hotel rest. After a week of cross-country driving, their lovely home overlooking the Pacific provided the perfect therapy. Thank you, Darlene and Warren.

Sally Benjamin and Maddie enjoying each other

Darlene and Warren join us for lunch in Laguna Beach

We left our friends and made our way inland so we could visit Sequoia National Park and be humbled by its huge, ancient trees. I'll have to tell you about it tomorrow. The evening Bible Study session is fast approaching, so I must leave.

But before I leave today, let me say only that memory is a wonderful thing, one of God's splendid gifts. Through it we can relive those meaningful events of past days and revisit all the good friends who did so much to bring goodness into our lives. 

God's peace...