The welder stopped by last week to pick up the elevator and rudder for Mama’s Chief. The ones he had on hand from our Aeronca friends just weren’t quite fitting as well as he hoped—good enough for working on the structure, but not right for the final product. Fortunately, the parts we provided slipped on and fell into place without much trouble.
It was a welcome update on Mama’s Chief (read more about the project here) —especially since we’ve been focused on other things lately. Warmer days have arrived, but we haven’t been able to work on our own airplanes quite as much as we’d hoped. Life, as it tends to do, has rearranged our priorities.
Meanwhile, activity at the restoration shop has ramped up.
The Gee Bee project is beginning to come back together, while the Howard is in the early stages of disassembly. Watching the restorers go through their meticulous processes helps me better understand what lies ahead for Mama’s Chief. Regardless of whether an aircraft was built in the 1930s or the 2000s, it must be made airworthy in the same fundamental way: each piece carefully fit, each system checked, each part built to fly.
The more time I spend in the restoration shop, the more the idea of assembling an airplane—then flying it—has moved from a distant concept to something tangible. The restorers have made that dream feel like a reality within reach. And the more I watch, the more I learn. What we focus on is what we become better at, and if we’re lucky, it becomes something we love.
Growing up, I often heard the refrain: “You can be anything you want to be.” And it’s true.
With time, effort, and perseverance, we can shape not only our environment, but also the course of our lives.
What took me much longer to understand is that focus and energy are finite resources.
We cannot do it all—not all at once, and not without cost.
It’s taken decades to appreciate that simple truth.
But what inspires me now are the people around me—the ones who pursue their passions with quiet determination, who smile when they talk about what they’re building or restoring, or what they saw out in the field that morning. The rabbits chasing each other behind our new house, the birdsong in the morning light—these small, often overlooked moments are the ones that fill me up and give me perspective.
We are all capable of more than we often realize. The key is where we place our attention. That old saying about looking for the silver lining rings true—my former chief pilot used to say, “The sun is always shining; sometimes you just have to go higher to see it.”
Some days, everything aligns. The wind is straight down the runway, and flying is nothing short of joy. The restorer calls those “John Wayne days.” Other days feel heavier, more uncertain. But showing up, even briefly, still moves the needle. Small, consistent efforts over time create more lasting progress than grand pushes that leave us worn out and needing to recover.
Life will always offer more curves in the road than expected. But if we’re lucky—and if we look—we can find beauty in those turns, meaning in the detours, and joy in the most unexpected places.
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