Why is There Air?

With great appreciation to Bill Cosby for framing this question in the mid-1960s I think there are some thoughts about air I would like to share from a flyer's experience.  When I was in Civil Air Patrol as a teenager there was a pilot who introduced me to a poem written by an American serving with the Royal Canadian Air Force in WWII.  Shortly after penning these thoughts he was killed in an accident while descending back to his home air field.  The  poem is titled "High Flight" the author is John Gillespie Magee Jr.  He was 19 at the time of his death.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue

I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

One of the interesting things about being a flyer in the Air Force is you get to stay 19 for a very long time.  The business is one of great challenges, great rewards, and occasionally great loss.  I think these all join to create individuals with confidence and a somewhat warped sense of humor.  I would illustrate this point by drawing from an adaptation of this beautiful poem we had when I was flying the MC-130E Combat Talon, also called "Blackbird" by the community.

Low Flight

Oh! I've slipped through the swirling clouds of dust, a few feet from the dirt,

I've flown the Blackbird low enough, to make my bottom hurt.

I've TFR'd the deserts, hills, valleys and mountains too,

Frolicked in the trees, where only flying squirrels flew.

Chased the frightened cows along, disturbed the ram and ewe,

And done a hundred other things, that you'd not care to do.

I've smacked the tiny sparrow, bluebird, robin, all the rest,

I've ingested baby eaglets, simply sucked them from their nest!

I've streaked through total darkness, just the other guys and me,

And spent the night in terror of things I could not see.

I've turned my eyes to heaven, as I sweated through the flight,

Put out my hand and touched, the radar caution light.

I find it easier as I sit at the computer to think and write about broader and more timely topics, but rarely do they give me the joy or bring the same smile to my face as when I think about when I was flying regularly in the AF.  I was one of the lucky few who, in life, got to do what they loved most.  On top of that they paid me for it.  I hope all of us would be so lucky, unfortunately that is not always the case.

Why is there air?  So men and women who are so inclined can stay 19 forever.