Many years ago, I took my wife to Colorado Springs to visit our son, an exchange student there, and we drove to the top of Pike’s Peak. On a clear day, you can see for more than fifty miles, and if you take the time to rotate slowly in every direction, you can see that far in every direction. The view up and over one’s head is even better, even farther. I could barely catch my breath in the thin air much less absorb everything to see. If you tried to soak it all in, it would be impossible, and to illustrate what I mean quantitatively, consider the photograph below. Let us agree, for the sake of discussion, that the photograph is simply one thousand by one thousand pixels, which yields more than one million pieces of information. Then, if we allow for color variations in each pixel, we have hundreds of millions of pieces of information. None of us—nor our computers—can take it all in. Frankly, it’s overwhelming. We are drowning in data and facts, pixels and posts. It’s a flood of biblical proportions. The answer isn’t more compute, better dashboards, or even safety management systems. In an attempt to convince you of the answer, I want to spend a few minutes looking back at what got us here.
The question “What got us here?” means different things depending on the context. From the top of a mountain like Pike’s Peak, one might observe sharp curves in the road that led to this vantage point. It’s possible that we might even remember the drive, with its twists and turns, though I suspect otherwise, for most of us have allowed our powers of observation to deteriorate in the age of digital navigation. Just the other day, it occurred to me that part of the problem with modern navigation is the reactive character of the task. Most of us drive without observing much about the route, waiting to respond, almost thoughtlessly, to the next voice command provided by the gps-based navigation app.
If I were in the cockpit of a Cessna 152, training at cross- country navigation, I might be forced to recall the clock-to-map-to-ground mnemonic that reinforced a certain awareness, so I would observe more about the features of the landscape I flew over. In that place, “What got us here?” would remind me that a heading of 235 was the correction I made several minutes ago, an attempt to compensate for the unseen forces of wind. This particular airplane with its six-pack of “steam gauges” didn’t even have a heading bug, much less a moving map display. If I looked a little more carefully, I could also see a set of scribbled notes, numbers, and lines on the aeronautical chart in my hand, and they too served to stir memories. In this case, what I remembered was the time and energy I put into mission planning, the decisions I had made before flight about my route, the landmarks, and distinguishing features on the map I would use to evaluate my progress. In those days, we were disciplined in what we created and the techniques we used to help us remember key navigation information. I fear we have lost the art of complementing dead reckoning with pilotage and all the airmanship that goes with it. Part of the problem may be that—in our haste—we have lost sight of one of the key ingredients of this art. “How much did I change my heading last time, and was it enough?” Remembering.
It is an implicit but important part of this skill that may have atrophied, and it seems that same part of the skill has waned outside of the cockpit, like when we are in the cubicle or conference room, hanging out at the water cooler, or at home on the couch.
Remembering. It’s a crude word compared to the refined concept in my mind, and I hope it can do some heavy lifting. I want it to be the one concrete word that symbolizes all the things I hope to convey as part of my solution to dam the flood and control the flow of information, the deluge that’s threatening to wash us away.
At first glance, we can take the word at face value. We ought to remember. This season gives us many pictures of what that might look like. For example, who among us is not familiar with the Christmas Newsletter or the holiday post card that contains pictures from the past year together with an entirely too short commentary to go with those images. If pictures are worth a thousand words, than many times these newsletters leave us wanting more words about the friends or family that sent them. What if we made a Christmas card newsletter for our profession, what images would it include for the last year? What words would we use to convey ideas too big for pictures? Take time to do this kind of remembering because it reminds us of relationships and results. Results are why we are in this line of work, but relationships should come first in the phrase. And a conjunction should join them. Relationships and results. Another one of the reasons for remembering is gratitude, and I believe that gratitude is a pitch and power setting that will help us make the most of life.
Remembering is also important because we need information about the past to help us steer a new course. If the wind causes our ground track to drift farther north than expected, right of the intended course, then a heading of 235 may not be enough. We need to steer left even more, some to get back on course, and some to prevent further drift.
There are two more kinds of remembering that this time of year should bring to mind. November 11 is a reminder to the world of the cost of world war and the armistice that ended the first one. Many of us earned our wings and flight test credentials through military service, and none of us can deny the influence the defense industrial complex has on the progress of aerospace technology. The military forces of the world also prevent war, and for that we ought to be thankful, which brings us to another time of remembering, the Thanksgiving holiday. The internet tells me that five nations have an official holiday centered on Thanksgiving and four more have similar celebrations. My tradition is to share one or two photos each day in a special Thanksgiving photo album on my facebook page, and usually the pictures come with a host of words to explain all the things you can’t see for which I am thankful. It’s definitely a discipline to take time for this activity, but therein lies another reason why remembering is important.
Taking time to remember creates margin. In some cases, I am taking time away from other things that are important or urgent, but I never regret the sacrifice. Often, “slowing down” the pace of whatever is happening in the cockpit gives our minds time to process and respond. It’s a safe choice. This is also a well documented way to solve problems. Doing something else, like a shower or a walk (or taking time to remember), can allow the brain to continue to work, and before you know it, you too can run the Greek streets with water dripping and shrieks of “Eureka!”.
I believe strongly that remembering should bring us to the blank page. We would not have maps without cartographers, and without maps, we could not navigate the old Cessna 152. The metaphor is apt because work and life don’t have a gps. I am certain we all wish for a chart that would guide us in our relationships, an app that voices commands telling us to “steer clear” of this or that emotional traffic jam we aren’t aware of, but alas, these do not exist. Even more, who wouldn’t want a moving map display that shows us the effect of a schedule decision or program problem that needs solving! Thus, the benefits of the map should compel us to write down what we remember as a way to offer a chart to those who follow us.
One of those charts we use to navigate through life is what I will call “oral history.” If you are a member of SETP, you will have noticed that we have accomplished some “oral history” projects in the past, and the tenure of our new president features a revitalization of this important project. In the next column, I’ll talk more about oral history as it pertains to us and flight test safety. But before we arrive there, I want to exhort the youngest among us—the new TPS grads matriculating from all over the world as well as the new hires who have six months of work under their belt after graduating college this past year—do not skip over this section. Here’s your task: Make a short audio clip or voice to text message, and in it convey six or seven things you remember. Maybe it’s the feeling of being new or the satisfaction of looking at how far you have come. Perhaps there is a project you have just completed or one you are just starting. There may be people you want to remember, or something said you don’t want to forget. Many years from now you will wish you remembered what you know and feel today. And if you end up with a list that you are willing to share, send it to mark@flighttestfact.com in a letter to the editor. Oral history is not (only) for the old, and before you know it, a new face in the office will signal that you are no longer a rookie, and you will have advice you can share: “Here’s what I learned…”
Remember what got us here. For all the reasons. Because what got us here won’t get us there, and because so much of the verb aviate requires us to remember. Remember that your experience is valuable to the people around you. Remember that relationships and results are both important, and remember all the ways life taught you that principle. And if you didn’t already realize it, remember that you can’t take it all in. That’s actually a feature of life and the human mind. Finally, remember that you only get one chance at this life, and learning from the past—what you remember—can help you navigate more successfully in your future.