Monthly Archives: November 2016

WINGSPREAD E-zine for November, 2016


“Spreading your wings in a perplexing world”
November, 2016                                                                                            James P. Hurd   

 Contents

  • New blog article: “Flying Corozalito”
  • Writer’s Corner (puzzlers, tips, books)
  • Book and Film reviews
  • E-zine subscription information
  • How to purchase Wingspread: Of Faith and Flying
  • Quotable quotes

 *              *              *

New blog article: “Flying Corozalito”

I landed the mission Cessna 180 at Corozalito and walked into the tiny grass-roof house where Wycliffe Bible Translators Florence Gridell and Mariana Slocum lived and worked. A small Chol Indian woman followed me in, laid her precious newborn baby girl on a rough wooden table, and cried out for Florence—“Doña Florencia; ayùdame, por el amor de Diòs! (Florence, help me, for the love of God!)” Florence took the baby in her arms but it was too late—after a few minutes the baby stopped breathing. It was 1968.  Read more here:   https://jimhurd.com/2016/11/04/flying-corozalito/

(*Request: Please share with others, and leave a comment on the website after reading the article. Thanks.)

 Writers’ Corner

Writer of the month

Dorothy Sayers (1893-1957). English novelist and essayist, a friend of C.S. Lewis, a Christian, and a member of the Inklings writing group. The lead in her detective novels is Lord Peter Wimsey, complemented by Harriet Vane. These novels include The Nine Tailors, Gaudy Night, and Whose Body?

Word of the Month:   Craft essay. An essay about writing. Good writers make a thousand decisions about their work. In a craft essay, they talk about this process.

Answers to October’s Quiz of the Month

  • Jake said, “I’m going out on the back porch to rest a while.” (adverb: awhile)
  • For some people it always takes more friends, less enemies, more excitement, more money, and more renown, whatever else it might take, to make them happier. (Place the last phrase earlier in the sentence)
  • We had a great day, it was unforgettable. (“comma splice”—make two sentences)
  • The dog’s wound laid bare it’s internal organs. (“its.” Use “it’s” only as a contraction of “it is”)

 New quiz for November

Correct these sentences:

  • Before I realized it, I had driven much further into the desert.
  • He noticed a large stain in the rug that was right in the center.
  • The dog aggravated the little puppy.
  • He had shone how not to fly the airplane.

 Tip of the Month: Ensure vs. insure vs. assure. Insure means a financial guarantee. Ensure involves personal effort to promote an outcome. Assure means to inspire confidence. “He assured me when he said that he will ensure that we insure the building.”

Some of my favorite verbs:
ape (imitate)
botch (fail)
bristle (react angrily)
cameled (to ride a camel)
cauterize (cover over, paper over, gloss over, a matter)
conjure (create out of nothing)
crimsoning (bloodying; using –ing to change noun to a verb)
disembowel (eviscerate, render lifeless, destroy)
eclipse (surpass)

Some of my favorite metaphors:
borne by silent sails across the seas
thermals that waft our sentences to higher altitudes
sentences corrugated by excessive underlining
sticking my oar in the water (a daring beginning)
returning to the swamp from which it crawled (fitting end of an evil plan)
a poison which, unnoticed, poisons everything it touches
drinking spiked Kool-Aid (approving  of a disastrous plan)

 Book Reviews
C.S. Lewis, Pilgrim’s Regress. Eerdmans, 1992. A takeoff on Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. Lewis wrote this soon after his Christian conversion. Many allusions will be unfamiliar to the modern reader.

Strunk & White, Elements of Style. (4th Edition) Pearson, 2000. A lovely little book that goes beyond commas and capitalizations to unveil the secrets of a gripping writer’s style.

Subscribe to this free E-zine

Click here https://jimhurd.com/home/  to subscribe to Wingspread  E-magazine sent direct to your email inbox, every month. You will receive a free article for subscribing. Please share this URL with interested friends, “like” it on Facebook, retweet on Twitter, etc.

 Quotable quotes

♠    “Do you think a woman will ever occupy the White House?”
“Are you kidding? I’ll believe that when the Cubs win the World Series!”

♠    The first five days after the weekend are the hardest.

♠     I childproofed my whole house, but the kids still get in.

♠    Ban pre-shredded cheese–make America grate again.

♠    Nobody goes to that restaurant anymore—it’s too crowded. (Yogi Berra)

 Buy James Hurd’s Wingspread: A Memoir of Faith and Flying.  

How childhood (Fundamentalist) faith led to mission bush-piloting in South America—and Barbara. Buy it here:  https://jimhurd.com/home/  (or at Barnes and Noble, Amazon, etc.)
See pics here related to Wingspread: Of Faith and Flying: http://www.pinterest.com/hurd1149/wingspread-of-faith-and-flying/

 *              *              *

Follow “james hurd” on Facebook, or “@hurdjp” on Twitter

If you wish to unsubscribe from this Wingspread E-zine, send an email to hurd@usfamily.net and say in the subject line: “unsubscribe.” (I won’t feel bad, promise!) Thanks.

Flying Corozalito

I landed the mission Cessna 180 at Corozalito and walked into the tiny grass-roof house where Wycliffe Bible Translators Florence Gridell and Mariana Slocum lived and worked. A small Chol Indian woman followed me in, laid her precious newborn baby girl on a rough wooden table, and cried out for Florence—“Doña Florencia; ayùdame, por el amor de Diòs! (Florence, help me, for the love of God!)” Florence took the baby in her arms but it was too late—after a few minutes the baby stopped breathing. It was 1968.

The woman wrapped up her precious bundle. When we walked outside I felt the heat and smelled the steaming jungle with its rotting vegetation. Florence told me, “We need to get to Mexico City. If you can fly us out to the highway at Salto, we’ll arrive just in time to catch the bus up to the capital.”

I agreed, and grabbed my spring scale to weigh up the women’s baggage. I told her, “With this heat and humidity we can’t carry more than 200 kilos.  I’ll have to take Mariana and the baggage out to Salto, then return to pick you up.”

Mariana and I climbed aboard the plane, and I taxied out to the end of the 300-meter airstrip hacked out of the jungle with the help of the Chol Indians. We took off, and at best angle of climb barely cleared the treetops at the end. Then I made a fateful decision. “Mariana, I think we should go back and pick up Florence.” I reasoned that we would save time by making only one flight to Salto rather than two. So I circled back and landed the second time in Corozalito.

Florence boarded, and we taxied to the end of the airstrip. She told us, “The mother already took her dead baby back to the village,” I thought about Florence and Mariana—fifty-ish, unpretentious, always wearing blouses and skirts (never pants), dedicated to the Chol people all around them. Every day they passed out pills, taught health classes, delivered Chol babies, and buried the dead. I thought about their brave work, thankful that Mission Aviation Fellowship could provide them air service.

For this second takeoff, I got out and pushed the tail of the plane back into the weeds so I could use every inch of the airstrip. The relentless sun rose hotter and hotter, and I felt sweat running down my spine. I noticed I was breathing heavily and my clammy hand clung to the throttle. Did I make the right decision? Do we have enough margin of safety? A little proud and overconfident, I hesitated to change my mind again.

I applied full power, released brakes, and the plane hurtled down the airstrip. We accelerated well, and as we rotated I willed the airplane into a climb. The engine sucked in the hot, humid air, doing its best. The trees loomed larger and larger.

Soon the highest tree branches filled the windshield—then we shot over them.

After flying the ten minutes to Salto, I unloaded the passengers and cargo and then checked the landing gear, half expecting to find twigs or pine needles caught in the wheel struts. I took off with a troubled mind and flew home to the MAF base in San Cristobal.

That evening, I scoured the inscape of my mind, wondering why I had talked myself into making that second takeoff with no margin of safety, a takeoff that jeopardized precious lives, all just to save twenty minutes. Instead of listening to the voice of my better angel, I had made a poor decision.

I said a humbled prayer—“Thank you God that yet again you refused to give me the consequences I deserved.” Mercy.