I used to think a gorilla could do my job. I don't think so anymore. Plus I doubt gorillas love people and love to travel like we do. The funny thing is, what I'm realizing more and more, is that passengers think we're nothing short of little Einsteins. They believe our geography knowledge is second to none... that we can name every river, body of water or mountain we fly over. They even think we're capable of discerning which state lines we are crossing. Our knowledge of the airplane itself surpasses those of the best mechanics. We can pinpoint every odd noise it makes, the speed at which we are flying, the maximum range of each aircraft, the type of engine it has and how many engines it has (um, isn't that one kind of obvious?). What's really funny is that I actually throw out answers like, "it's just the hydraulics". The sad truth is I don't even know what hydraulics are. I keep meaning to find out. I heard a pilot give that answer for a noise I hear a lot and haven't stopped using it since. What I can truthfully answer (and often do) is, "it's normal". If it isn't "normal" you can bet your bottom dollar I'd let someone know it wasn't normal. They also believe we are capable of predicting the future. We can tell them if the weather is going to affect our departure or arrival time. We can tell them whether or not they'll make their connections. I always thought it would be fun to carry around a magic eight ball, and then when people ask me if they're going to make their connection I could consult it and show them the answer: "Not likely". They believe we can tell them if their seat mates are going to make the flight (because they'd like to spread out if they could). This is only a tiny sampling of how deep and vast they believe our knowledge is. Maybe it's just that they get dumbed down as soon as they step on board the airplane. Many have trouble deciding if they should head into the cockpit or down the aisle. They have difficulty matching their seat number with the row they're in. They can't decipher diagrams that tell them whether they're at the window or the aisle. They can't distinguish the ashtray (that's in the center of the door!) from the door handle to get into the lavatory (how many doors have you seen with the door handle in the middle of the door?). On the lav doors that you need to push to get into, there's a big sign on the door that says, "PUSH". This completely baffles them, and in an attempt to help them get in there I find I can't think of another word for push and just repeat it, trying not to sound like a smart aleck. Sometimes I'll do a charade-like illustration of pushing to help them understand. Remember those toys we played with when we were little...the ones that had different shapes that fit into different holes? Only the square shaped piece fit into the square shaped hole? When they get on an airplane that simple concept escapes them. At least we didn't break the toy when the square piece didn't fit into the rectangular hole. Not them, they will break the bin before they'll recognize that their square luggage will not fit into the rectangular sized bin. On the buttons above their seat they have trouble differentiating the reading light button from the flight attendant call button...even though the light button has a picture of light bulb on it and the call button has a picture of a person on it.

I remember when Dane was only four years old and had to sit by himself on a flight. I drilled him on how to act, "have your order ready, don't you dare ask what we have, tell them as quickly and clearly as possible what you want, say 'please' and 'thank you' and then just sit there and look at your books."

The whole time I'm giving him his "coaching" he's staring up at the flight attendant call button and at the end of my explicit instructions to ONLY push it if there's an emergency, he adds, "....or if I want another drink."

"NO! Haven't you been listening?? I said NEVER push it unless there's an emergency."

"Well... then why in the picture is the lady carrying a drink?" he asks, logically enough. Why, indeed? Because flight attendants didn't design them, that's why.

"Just don't do it, okay?" And he didn't. He was a perfect little passenger and did the most perfect thing of all...he slept the entire flight.

I just got back from three long, brutal days of training in Atlanta. As part of merging with Delta, we are acquiring several new types of aircraft and all flight attendants must be qualified on each and every one of them. Thus I've endured three days of cramming in hundreds of facts, new commands, and new ways of dealing with emergencies and then being tested on all of it. Failing isn't an option.

I've concluded that there are no two words in the English language that can knock the sense out of me quite like "Easy Victor". In an emergency situation, when the words "Easy Victor" are heard from the cockpit it technically means the airplane has come to a complete stop. For us, it means Act 1, Scene 1, and we are the sole performers. It is imperative that we say our lines verbatim and that our actions follow the script exactly. Just when I think I've got my "role" down, I hear those words "Easy Victor" and suddenly I can't even remember the first word of the first line, much less what my hands and body are supposed to be doing. If a "take 2" is required we are not allowed to be told what we did wrong in "take 1". We think about it and start from "Easy Victor" again. If a "take 3" is required we take a break and go think long and hard about how we're going to perfect our "role" because there will be no "take 4". After three days of numerous "performances" I've decided that I absolutely detest the words "Easy" and "Victor."

Lest you think I didn't learn anything useful I will conclude with something I learned that was helpful (we even watched an ever-so-helpful video on it): Do not send any incapacitated crew members down the escape hatch head first.

My friend Kelly is compiling a list of words and phrases that are unique to her family. I believe she is calling it the NutHatch Dictionary. Their own little dialect is very funny (because Kelly is very funny). Anyway, it got me thinking of my own family's particular vocabulary. Phrases I use frequently, even when I haven't a clue where they came from or sometimes even the appropriate use for them. My great-grandmother (Nanny) was the idiom master. I remember she would put about ten spoonfuls of sugar on her cereal, and when she got to the eighth or ninth she'd say, "I really shouldn't...I'm getting as fat as a butcher's dog." When I was with Nanny we always saw a LOT of people that were as "fat as butcher's dogs". I picked up the phrase when I was about four years old and start using it for EVERYTHING. I was as "tired as a butcher's dog", as "hungry as a butcher's dog" and so on. Apparently only a butcher's dog could relate to whatever state of hunger, thirst or exhaustion I was feeling at the time. It wasn't until years later that I understood why this cracked my family up so much.

Nanny wouldn't hesitate to label anyone exhibiting less than desirable behaviour as horse's rosettes. I picked up on this too. I didn't realize until years later that it wasn't exactly the quaint little moniker I had assumed it was.

How about, "there's more than one way to skin a cat"....eeeek. I can honestly say I had NEVER used that gruesome little phrase UNTIL the other day. A passenger wanted three cookies and I told him he'd have to wait until everyone got a choice and then promised to bring him back whatever extras we had. The passengers seated next to him didn't care for anything so he craftily announced that they'd just changed their minds and that they both wanted cookies. I gave him the three cookies and told him "I guess there's more than one way to skin a cat, isn't there?" What?? Where did that come from? Who knew that was even in my repertoire of phrases?

"Loose cannon" is one of my personal favorites. My understanding of a "loose cannon" is someone that is always on the cusp of over the top behavior and must be carefully monitored at all times. Howard Dean is a perfect example of a "loose cannon", though Biden is right on his heels. They're also prone to going off "half-cocked".

My dad always told us to keep our "eyes peeled" for our baby sister. Meaning to keep careful watch over her. Eye's peeled? Ick.

I'm not even sure what a "whip stitch" is...but because I've heard it all my life, I use it every whip stitch.

How about all the ways we could be knocked or slapped? "I'll knock you into the middle of next week" "or "knock both eyes into one". "I'll slap some sense into you", or "slap you silly", or "slap the crap out of you". To be fair, my mom was way too proper to ever say crap, I believe her favorite was knocking us into the middle of next week...which I always personally thought might be a nice place to be (under the circumstances).

Craig used to come up with some outlandish facts. When my parents would ask him how he came upon such knowledge his answer would always be the same: "a kid at school told me." It became our family's response to anyone that came up with questionable facts...."did a kid at school tell you that?"

My mom liked nothing better than to "scare the living daylights" out of us. I haven't a clue what "living daylights" are, but she derived enormous pleasure from telling us scary stories and pulling nylon stockings over her head and poking it around corners to terrify us. When Kristie was little (too little to have the use of her pronouns down pat) my mom would tell her scary stories about abominable snowmen and Kristie would always ask apprehensively "Their don't come to Michigan, do their?" We started using that phrase about any bad people or bad news, "Their don't come to Michigan...do their?"

If we asked Dad if he had time to help us with something, he'd often respond with, "What's time to a pig?" It always made him chuckle but I never really got it. I just learned the other day that it's a line from a joke he loved. The joke goes something like this: an old farmer used to walk his pigs a long way so they could drink from the river. A neighbor offered to run a pipe from the river to the farmer's house but the farmer wasn't interested. When the neighbor insisted what a huge time saver it would be the farmer just asked, "What's time to a pig?" All these years later and now I get it.

Another phrase I use (but have no idea where it came from) is, "you guessed it Nester!" It's the equivalent of "Well...duh!" For example, if I get my uniform on and someone asks if I'm going to work, I say..."You guessed it Nester!" Or, in a lame attempt to be funny, I might say, "No, I just like wearing this outfit".

I'm sure if everyone in my family put our heads together we could come up with quite a "dictionary" of our own. What a gift it is to be "placed in families" (Psalm 68:6). Sometimes I think we forget how therapeutic it is to share our memories. I miss being able to rehash stories with Craig (no one could recount a story better than he could), but I know it won't be long before we'll be laughing it up together again in Heaven...probably sooner than any of us think. I have a distinct memory of us laying on a hill "watching for Jesus" and I can still hear him singing (in his own little rendition), "When those gates are open wide, I'm gonna shove my butt inside, I'm gonna sing, I'm gonna shout...PRAISE THE LORD!"

After reading my dad's thoughts on entitlements, I was thinking about how destructive the whole "entitlement" mentality is. Not just for our country, but spiritually as well. A large portion of our population feels that we are entitled to free health care (no matter that it would be the furthest thing from "free"). Feeling we're "owed" something takes the pride out of accomplishing it on our own. Just like my dad said, mandated "giving" robs us from the God given pleasure of giving on our own.

In our spiritual life this same feeling of being "owed" certain things robs us of joy-giving gratitude. I've worked hard, I'm entitled to a good time. They really hurt me, I'm entitled to hurt them back. I've been disappointed with some of the things that have happened in my life, I'm entitled to feel sorry for myself and resentful of those that haven't suffered similar misfortunes. They didn't treat me with respect, I'm entitled to be rude to them. They made some rude gesture at me while I was driving, I'm entitled to be angry and wish bad things on them. They're driving 40 in a 55, and I'm running late for work, so I'm entitled to ride their tail and flash my lights (I learned that trick from somebody...could it be...Bob?).

God's life instructions are in complete opposition to the "entitlement" mentality. He asks us to bless those who curse us. To pray for those who are evil. To work diligently, "doing it all in the name of the Lord Jesus." To give thanks in all situations. To consider others better than ourselves. To be peacemakers and live peaceably with all men. All the very opposite of what feels natural to us. The only thing we are really "entitled" to is a life in Hell separated from God for eternity. Yet when we do things God's way He is faithful to give us inexplicable peace and joy. It's just so darn hard...some days MUCH harder than others. I know God is faithful, that He did begin a good work in me and that He is continuing to mold me more and more into the image of His Son. So eventually I know I'm gonna be nicer...in fact, I think I must be nicer than I was last year and I should be even nicer next year. Isn't that what growing in grace and knowledge is all about? (2 Peter 3:17). I know Bob, for one, will be especially be encouraged by this possibility.

"Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near! Do not be anxious about anything. But in everything, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God, and the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:4-7)

P.S. Babe, please don't tell me to do any of this, okay?

My dad always disliked the word "entitlement". I recently came upon a letter he wrote to an editor in 1995 (!) and thought I'd share some excerpts with you:

"The concept of 'entitlement' is at the very least presumptuous. I don't accept the idea! Why should any hard-working member of the productive element of our great nation be 'herded into' the notion that we owe the non-productive element anything?....Believe it or not, I am actually benevolent. But, I DECIDE to whom I will be benevolent....I do not need government to facilitate my giving (at my cost). There is 'pleasure' in giving. This pleasure is obliterated when giving is mandated."

A few paragraphs later he continues with, "You may find this a bit hard to believe, but I consider paying federal income taxes a great privilege. It is an opportunity beyond comprehension for people in third world societies. We, the productive element of our great society, can buy-into the ownership of the United States of America in proportion to our income! Yet, my vote counts exactly the same as Bill Gates or Steve Forbes. Think about it. The operative word is "income". There is no need to tax citizens that have no income (and by that I mean disposable income). Just look at last year's form 1040. You tell me, are there no opportunities for improvement? (1) If you had the misfortune of paying $5000.00 for medical treatment, why shouldn't 100% of it be a deduction from income? (2) People are our most valuable national resource. If you can prove that you paid out $5000.00 for the education of your dependant children, why shouldn't 100% of the expenditure be a deduction from income? (3) If your labor paid you $30,000 for an entire year's hard work, why should you be required to pay any income tax? (4) If you decided to sell your home that served you well for 20 years, but nearing retirement, you and your wife decided you don't need, why should you pay any income tax on your 'capital gain'? I could go on. ....Certainly there is room for improvement in our federal income tax code. But, what is vastly more important is where the money goes! As of today, our hard earned dollars are going to things that most of us don't believe in and would not support, if asked."

My dad was particularly concerned about our national debt. He quotes the great economist Milton Friedman: "The problem to address is spending." He goes on to say that what needs to be balanced is our national check book! ....Most of us hardworking suckers must live within our means. If we want something a little beyond necessity we plan ("budget") our income. Pretty simple. ....But, your federal government elitists are not constrained by this simple philosophy. The have infinite resources: tax on the hard-working suckers.

....But in fact, your elected representatives are your employees. Unfortunately, you and I have abdicated our responsibilities as an employer. We have "excuses": We've been too busy trying to make ends meet. We've been focusing on raising good citizens. We work.

....In case you haven't thought about it, you and I are going to die! Our time is not infinite. Before I die, I am going to do all that I can to leave this United States in the shape it was given to me: With no entitlements."

Sadly my dad went to be with the Lord in 1999. Can you imagine how horrified he'd be with his beloved country's debt now??? My dad was constantly stressing to us kids how important it was to contribute (he DID like that word). He wanted us to be involved, to know who our representatives are and to hold them accountable to follow the will of their constituents, always stressing that they work for us. We are their employer. I don't think there's ever been a time in our country's history that we need to understand and act upon this more. I've always been in awe of my dad's prescient wisdom. A day doesn't go by that I don't miss getting his "take" on things. I know if he were still with us his heart would be broken by all that has happened and continues to happen. I was overcome with nostalgia after reading his letter and was moved to share his thoughts with you. I hope you can appreciate how opportune they are today....more than 14 years after he wrote them!