It was right around 2000 when I made the incredible discovery that deaf pilots had been flying since 1948. An idea occurred to me that I should not only find a flight school, but find one where I could work part-time in exchange for steep airplane rental discounts.

One thing led to another and I found myself a small airport in Michigan where I met two young men for an interview. I will call them Chris and Joe.

Chris seemed pleasant but Joe was a bit guarded. I could tell that Joe wasn’t all that enamored about hiring me. He didn’t seem to think I had what it took to be a line service specialist. Chris, on the other hand, was enthusiastically full of ideas on how they could provide me with a text-based pager that vibrated every time an airplane fuel order came through.

Despite Joe’s stiff resistance, I was hired.

One evening, I was at the fuel farm and Joe was there, watching me hook up the hoses and pull a few switches. I was very nervous because I had all sorts of fears about what would happen if I spilled fuel or pulled the wrong switches while transferring fuel from the huge tanks to the fuel trucks.

At one point, I asked him for assistance. In an arrogant sort of way, he impatiently huffed and puffed his way through the procedures and literally dared me to follow. That made me even more nervous.
I had to shine the flashlight at his lips so that I could read them, which caused his ire to rise even further. Thick tension hung in the air.

Not a pleasant evening.

Eventually I eased into the routine, no longer needing his unwanted attention. Meanwhile, I was taking flight lessons, which earned me begrudging respect from Joe, especially after I officially became a pilot in 2001.

One night he and I were flying back home from a trip to Ohio when we experienced an electrical failure in the cockpit. That meant the instrument panel turned pitch black - all we could see was what was outside, the sprawling city lights, to guide us.

While not a catastrophic event (because we were flying on a clear night), it required nerves of steel. It was Joe’s turn to fly the way home. His face was twitching - the likes of which I had never seen him do before. The cockiness was no longer there.

I was instantly transformed from a lazy passenger in the right seat to an expert navigator, pointing out various cities on the way back. A special flashlight was used to monitor critical instruments like the airspeed and altitude indicators.

Unlike the day I was learning how to fill up the fuel trucks with fuel, we were a team that night. Thankfully, we made it back safely but neither of us ever forgot the incident.

A few years later, the airport management disbanded and sold the company. Virtually all of us got laid off, including Joe and I. We went separate ways, continuing on with our lives, keeping in touch by email. One day I received message that he and his wife wanted to fly down to Ohio to meet with me on an “urgent matter.”

I quickly replied, “Sure, I’d be happy to see you two, come on down anytime!”

On the day of their arrival, I excitedly drove to the airport and waited with anticipation. Swirling in my mind were thoughts of what they wanted to talk to me about. Soon a twin engine aircraft appeared in the sky.  It was their plane.

After Joe parked and shut down his aircraft, he, his wife and I headed to Bob Evans for a bite to eat. We made idle chit-chat for several minutes, waiting for our food. My heart pounded like a jackhammer. They weren’t just coming out to say, “Hello.”

I kept watching for signs leading to an opening when it finally came. From his wife. “It’s about our son ... ”

Here it comes. Setting down the fork, I leaned across the table. “Yes?”

My eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them. I was stunned to Joe struggling to maintain his manly composure. This was a guy who was not used to putting his emotions on display. Suddenly, I knew what was coming. I held my breath.

She continued, “Our son was born with a severe loss of hearing and we don’t know what to do. Do you have any advice for us?”

There was a long, pregnant pause. The air seem to crackle. My shoulders eased back and slumped. It was similar to what people feel when they are finally told the truth after an extended build up of anticipation. I spent the next several minutes sharing my own experiences of growing up deaf. I talked about different options. I described how I was taught to speak and how I learned sign language much later in life.

Before long, it was time to take them back to the airport. I could tell the trip did them much good for they appeared hopeful.

The moral of the story?

It was no accident Joe was put on my path. Without him knowing it, I ended up becoming his teacher. Even I didn’t know why this guy was put into my life until that very moment.

The universe is like that. Mysterious, yet exacting.