Boys, Get Your Mother Out

"Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment."
The Buddha
Summer 2024
My father, James Napier, before he shipped out to Europe
My father, James Napier, before he shipped out to Europe

We were halfway between Honolulu and Los Angeles on a night flight to Chicago. The jet was cruising at 35,000 feet with 189 passengers on board, most of them dozing. The cabin was dark and quiet.

Without warning, the nose of the plane tilted sharply down and suddenly the jet was plummeting towards the ocean. The oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling, dangling menacingly in the air. Jolted awake, passengers cried out in fear. “The engines are on fire!” one shouted. “We’re all going to die!” another screamed.

Panic filled the cabin. Even the flight attendants lost their composure. I can still remember one of them, clutching the seats on the aisle to steady herself, her cheeks streaked with tears and black mascara. Her eyes met mine for an instant. Instead of reassurance, I saw terror.

Even traveling at 550 mph, it takes a plane several minutes to plunge to earth. From my window seat, I looked past my brother to my father across the aisle in seat 7D. He was as calm as if he was listening to a church sermon.

Without any emotion, he instructed my brother and me, “Boys, get your mother out. If you can, take blankets and whatever may float.” Then, he reached across the narrow aisle, stoically shook my brother’s hand good-bye and gave me an affirming nod.

A few decades earlier, at age 18, my father was the youngest commissioned officer ever to graduate from Officer Candidate School at Ft. Knox, Kentucky. From there, he went to fight in Europe under General George Patton in some of the most brutal battles of WWII.

My dad was awarded two Bronze Star Medals for heroism in combat. He was no stranger to chaos or danger. He led the column that liberated 75,000 prisoners at Stalag VII-A, a POW camp in Moosburg, Germany. My family still owns the massive German flag that flew over that compound.

Thankfully, after a few terrifying moments, the pilots pulled the aircraft out of its steep dive at less than 5,000 feet above the cold waters of the Pacific. A pressure valve had failed; the aircraft was at risk of imploding. So perilous was the malfunction that the pilots had put the plane into a steep decent to get to a low altitude.

I’m sharing this story for several reasons. As a father, I marvel at my dad’s calm as he instructed his boys how to survive the crash and save their mother. He never asked that we assist him. His composure and selflessness still amaze me.

As a professional planner, I also appreciate that my dad’s greatest concern in crisis was for his family. While others collapsed in fear, he assessed what could be done to improve a dire situation. Panic owned no place in his mind.

Lastly, that near-catastrophe reminds all of us that the ideal time to prepare is before trouble strikes, not when it is upon us. Often, I receive calls from clients in the midst of crisis. That’s when options are limited, just as they were during our flight over the Pacific.

The time to plan and fortify is now.

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