Blackbird

Jack Gregory passed away quietly in his room at the Hartwell Retirement Community.  His granddaughter Meghan Young was with him when he passed.  He was two months shy of his ninetieth birthday and even though he lived life the way he wanted to, Meghan still shed a few tears as the doctor came in to confirm his time of death.

“Condolences.” He said before departing the way he had learned in medical school.

“Thank you.” Meghan dried her eyes with a tissue.  “Grandpa, I’m gonna miss you.” 

When Meghan got home, Dale, her husband, was sitting on the couch reading the paper.  She was armed with take out Chinese, because she was in no mood to prepare dinner. 

“I’m sorry.” Dale hugged her after she put down the bag on the dining room table.

“He went peacefully.” She cleared her throat. “I went to the Peking Palace.”

“Alright.” He kissed her on the cheek. 

“I will have to go through his stuff.” She sighed, “I’m not looking forward to that.”

“How come?” He pushed the bag open and took a whiff.

“There were so many things he and grandma collected over the years.  When she passed away, I had them put in storage.” She sat down as Dale tasted a spring roll. “I guess it will be nice not having to pay the monthly fee.” 

“We were paying that?” He asked as he used his chopsticks to dip his dim sung into a red sauce. 

“Yeah.” She rested her chin on her fists. “I’m not hungry, dear, but help yourself.” 

“Oh I am.” He nodded after swallowing. She offered him a Mona Lisa smile as she went into the bedroom to prepare for a nice soothing bath.  Her nerves were frayed and there was nothing anyone could do to relieve the pounding of her head. 

In his prime Jack Gregory had been a skilled airplane mechanic specializing in the Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird capable of soaring at incredible speeds, but the Air Force had retired this plane in January 1990.  Before that, Jack was a career enlisted Non-Commissioned Officer who knew the inner workings of the greatest and fastest spy plane ever constructed.  Capable of flying at the edge of the earth’s atmosphere at speeds past the speed of sound, the Blackbird could take reconnaissance photographs of a golf ball in such detail you’d be able to count the dimples as it sat on the tee. After thirty years of dedicated service, Jack was proud of his service to the Blackbird while in uniform.  When he retired from the service in 1984, the Blackbird was still the fastest plane in the sky.

One of his old cronies, a full bird colonel, talked Jack into remaining on the service crew as a civilian crew chief.

“You are the best I’ve ever had.” Colonel Buggesse folded his hands on his desk as he spoke to the newly retired chief mechanic.

“I’m not sure.” He sighed. “I’ve spent the last thirty years of my life sniffing jet exhaust fumes.  I’m wondering if it’s time to pack it in here.” 

“What else are you going to do?  Play golf with an alligator sewn on your tit?” Colonel Buggesse laughed.

“I never gave it much thought.” Jack confessed as a Blackbird came screaming down the runway.  

“Has there ever been a more magnificent bird?” The colonel stood and peered out the window with a full view of the flightline. 

“No sir.” Jack smiled and that was all it took for him to sign on as a civilian crew chief.  In the same year George Orwell warned of a dystopian world about to take shape under the shadow of communism, Jack Gregory signed a contract with the base to stay on as a senior civilian crew chief.

After they retired the Blackbird in 1990, Jack decided there was no longer a place for him in the Air Force, so he moved from northern California up to Central Oregon with Doris, his wife of forty years.  

Diagnosed with cancer a year later, Doris passed away holding Jack’s hand.  Wiping the tears from his eyes, Jack told his daughter Melony her mother had taken the flight to Heaven without him. Melony hugged him and they both baptized Doris’ passing with their tears.

“Grandpa, would you like to go to yoga class with me?” Meghan asked with her bag slug over her shoulder one morning.  She noticed he was in a bit of a fog after Doris’ funeral and figured he could use some cheering up.  While he was in the service, Jack made a habit of jogging five miles each day no matter what the weather was like. 

“I’d rather have my eyes taken out with red hot pokers.” He shook his head as he finished his morning coffee.

“Grandpa.” She said in an accusatory voice.

“Darling, I love you more than I can say, but yoga is not for me.” His wry smile slid across his face.  It was the same smile he got when someone mentioned the word “Democrat” in his presence.

“I thought you might want to get out of the house for a while.” She shrugged knowing that any sort of argument would be wasted breath.

“No thank you, sweetie.  Do give your mom my love.” He peered out the window at the trees just beyond his fence in the backyard.

“She would like you to come over for dinner.” Meghan kissed him on the top of the head, where his hair had quit growing leaving a patch of bare skin covered with dark liver spots.

“I need some time.” He bowed his head.

But time was not his friend, because his oldest daughter Melony was also diagnosed with cancer and a few months later followed her mother to the grave.

It was a somber time for the family as Jack quit going to church feeling as if God was punishing him for some unnamed sin.  Meghan and Dale began having domestic difficulties as well.

“Grandpa, are you in here?” She knocked on the door of his study.  While Doris was alive, she would forbid anyone from disturbing him when he was in his office.  There were strict rules surrounding this type of behavior, but she needed someone to talk to.

“Yes.” His sober answer could be heard through the door. Carefully she opened the door, not knowing what condition he would be in.  She knew he would resort to whiskey when he was feeling low, a habit he carried over from his military days, but he was just sitting in his big desk chair with his eyes closed. When she entered the study, he opened his eyes, “I can still hear her voice.”

“Whose voice, grandpa?” She was asked with trepidation in her voice. 

“Melony.” He bowed his head, “I never thought for a minute I’d outlive her.  She was always a happy child, full of life.”

“I miss her so much.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“She always wanted to go for a ride in the Blackbird. I promised her one day I would make that happen.” He sniffed before wiping one of his own tears from his face, “I never did.” 

“She was always there for me.” Meghan’s voice caught on her throat, “Now when I need her most, she’s not there.”

“What?” He sat up, “What is the problem?” 

“Dale and I have fallen out of love.” I turned my head.

“Doris and I fell out of love several times.” He pointed his finger at his granddaughter, “But each time we found a reason to keep on trying and eventually we did.”

“What if it’s not that simple.” Meghan shook her head.

“Well then, you can look back and say you did your best.” He put his gnarled hand over hers. “Promise me.”

“I promise, grandpa.” She sniffed.

“It’s been hard times, but that’s when you pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” He winked. “How would you like to do a few rounds of golf with an old pro?”

“I’ll beat you.” Meghan wiped the tears with her shirt sleeve and smiled.

“It beats yoga, that’s for sure.” He chuckled.

The next morning they teed off at the Ridenour Golf Course where Jack came to worship and showed Meghan his most reverend nine rounds of golf.  He told her some of his war stories from his long time working on the Blackbird.

“One of them pilots dressed in his spacesuit told me he got her up to Mach Five, but it was top secret information.” He putted and the ball went straight into the cup ending the round. 

“Should you be telling me this?” Meghan tried but her put rimmed the cup and rolled away.

“You’re right.” He shook his head, “Now I’ve gotta kill ya.” 

His dry humor made her laugh.  She was in a good mood when she walked in the door, but Dale was sitting there staring at the blank television screen, “We need to talk.” 

They did, but Dale insisted that a trial separation was the solution.  So, with tears in her eyes yet again, she watched him leave.  Their two year marriage was over or so it seemed. A week later, Dale called and told her he was coming home.

Grandpa Jack had been right, sometimes you have to let go of something you love so much in order to find the real value of what it is you think you have lost.  

When she opened the storage unit, she felt a surge of melancholy run through her.  In the tiny six by nine foot unit were unopened boxes.  Some of the boxes would rip the bandage off the wounds she had acquired over time.  In one box was the tea set Grandma Doris had purchased on her trip through Europe after Grandpa Jack had retired during the decommissioning ceremony in January 1990. 

The boxes were stacked about four or five boxes high and not being the tallest person, she watched as some of the boxes fell from their lofty perch.  Afraid of broken glass, Meghan opened the fallen boxes carefully.  Most of the contents were undamaged and just papers and pictures of a life well-lived.  

Grandpa had told her of his many adventures both in uniform and as a civilian worker.  

“The Blackbird was our eye in the sky, keeping a watchful eye on them commies.” He said with pride in his voice. “We was all dedicated, because we knew what the consequence would be if we let our guard down just once.”

He was proud that it never happened, not even once. 

She opened another box and there it was, a picture of the entire maintenance squadron standing in front of the Blackbird during the January 26, 1990 retirement ceremony.  Jack was standing next to Colonel Buggesse wearing his flight jacket that he wore to the base every day while the colonel wore his silver eagles pinned to the collar of his flight suit. The colonel had passed away a few years ago with a combat record in both Korea and Vietnam.  

Meghan ran her fingers over the glass of the frame wondering who all of those faces were today.  Most of the servicemen looked young, smiling jubilantly when the picture was taken.

She remembered when he had this displayed on the wall behind his desk in his study.  

“Did he know each of their names?” She wondered.

“They used to call me Chief, because I retired as a Chief Mastersargeant.” He pointed to the picture.  Meghan remembered he had told her this at her high school graduation party that Doris and he had for her. She was preparing to leave for college.  Life was exciting, “When I hung up my uniform and went to work as a civilian lackey, the guys continued to call me Chief.  I did not want to discourage them, so I let them call me Chief.” 

He laughed and then became serious, “Mehgan, you are going to college and you will learn things I wish I had learned.  My commander always told me I was smarter than any officer he had in the squadron.  I wish that was true, but you know after a few drinks, people are bound to lie right to your face.”  He paused, “Don’t believe their bullshit, darling.  Don’t buy into it if you think they are full of shit.”

“Yes grandpa.” She nodded.

“I know Melony doesn’t like it when I use my enlisted language, but sometimes it’s useful when there are no other words I can use.” He put his drink down on his desk, “All of those men made me proud ever after they got rid of the Blackbird.  Stupid government.  We was going to war after Iraq took over Kuwait and we sure as hell could have used the Blackbird to keep an eye on Sadam.  But go figure.  Some of them boys had to go to Desert Storm, but it was a short operation as it turned out.  We done what they asked us to and that was that.” 

She cradled the heavily framed photograph in her arms.  

“What is that?” Dale asked when Meghan walked in the door a few hours later.

“A photograph my grandpa framed.” She put it on the counter by the stove.

“You spent almost four hours there and this is what you came out with?” Dale shook his head.

“This was once his favorite possession.” She glared at him.

“Then why was it in storage?” Dale asked.

“Sometimes our memories cannot hold all the things that we value.” Her voice was terse.

“Whatever.” He shook his head. “The girls are all in bed.  We had pizza.”

“I had a meal all prepared.” She put her hands on her hips.

“Well, you know me, I am not always the handiest around the kitchen.” He sighed heavily, “Sometimes I like to go the easy way.” 

“Well, sometimes I wish you’d do the right thing.” 

“Hey, if we’re gonna have this argument, I will go in the other room so you can work this out on your own.” He stomped off into the living room and turned on the television to Wrestling Mania, something she could not watch with him. 

Rather than keep the picture as an object that would cause future disagreement, Meghan took it into her office the next morning to hang it on her cubicle wall at Morris Technical Advisors.  The weight would not allow her to secure the photograph to the flimsy material.

“Hey Megs, I don’t think that will stay.” Wendy, her coworker in the next cubicle pointed out.

“I’m afraid you’re right.” She sighed, putting the photograph on her desk.

“What is it?” Wendy asked when she saw it.

“It’s a picture my grandpa had.” She answered, “He worked on the Blackbird about twenty years ago.”

“Blackbird?” Wendy’s face appeared befuddled.

“SR-71, Air Force spy plane.” She said with a hint of pride in her voice. 

“No kidding?  You know Bud the department head?” She asked and Meghan nodded, “I think he was in the Air Force a long time ago.” 

No sooner had Wendy said his name when Bud Falinico wandered down the narrow path.

“What’s going on here?” He asked.  During their last staff meeting, Bud pointed out that there was too much idle chatter in his department.

“I was trying to hang this on my wall.” Meghan shook her head.

“Where did you get this?” Bud seemed transfixed on the photograph.

“My grandfather had it.  He passed away last week.” Meghan explained.

“Are you kidding me?” Bud gasped.

“I wish I was…” Meghan shrugged.

“You see that guy right there?” Bud’s finger was on one of the guys in the picture, “That’s…that’s me.” 

“What?” Meghan could not believe what he was telling her.

“Yes, yes, that’s me.  I was a nineteen year-old airman at the time.” He was smiling as he spoke, “And there’s Chief Gregory. And Colonel Buggesse.  Man, I was so young back then.” 

“Chief Gregory is my grandfather.” Meghan felt her tears stinging at the corner of her eyes. “He passed away last week.” 

“Oh, I am so sorry.” The sincerity of his statement was truly heartfelt. “I had no idea. The Chief was like a father to me back then. My real father took off with his secretary.  I was angry and bitter when I showed up at that base.” 

We never know what connects us, common experience caught in a photograph, or a moment in time that has been long forgotten or finding yourself at the crossroads when all hope has been lost and yet salvation is patiently waiting for you there.