Carlo flew his first solo on Fathers Day, 2006. As far Tonet can remember, Carlo’s enduring dreams were of commanding the Starship Enterprise. He wasn’t the type to fly an X-Wing down an abyss into the Death Star. More a strategic Captain who backed up his diplomacy with proton torpedoes.
As Carlo and Tonet flew on downwind at Omni today, a taxiing US Air Force C-130 came on the radio:
“Clark Tower, request to hold at this position to align our navigational systems.”
Carlo and his Dad looked at each other and considered the following reply:
“Clark Tower, RP-C1513 would like to orbit here to calibrate our phasers.”
We all hurry to grow up. Then we wish were were young again… .
It is a truism of adult life that life never ends up quite the way you planned it.
I had a very specific plan upon graduating. It was derailed. Badly. My fault.
On the bright side, I had no plans on going into a relationship after graduating. Look at me now. 
It is some consolation to me that the unexpected tides of life after school are both positive and negative. It is even more comforting that I held on to both my dreams of teaching English and flying airplanes. My only regret is that I did not have the courage and foresight to start teaching sooner. If I get run over by a bus tomorrow, that last sentence will be among my final thoughts. But on the other hand, I’m deeply grateful for my hard-earned second chance, and for the support of the many people without whom it would not be possible.
I’m teaching today in one of the best high schools in the country, surrounded by good-natured colleagues, in charge of two hundred endlessly quirky and lovable teenagers, and I cannot imagine ever having wanted anything else. The classroom is my natural habitat. Often even more so than the cockpit.
Even my view of flying has changed. The act of flying itself is not as important to me as it once was, and its endless wonders seem somehow less poetic to my older eyes. The airplane is a wonderful machine, yes, a chariot to realms of adventure and beauty. But it is a machine. It is aluminum, copper wires, three little tires, knobbly things, and rigid wings.
Something happened over the past year that I’m still trying to understand. Whatever it is, it’s made everything seem a little grayer. The smiles are just this shade of wry, the laughter is now tinged with mild hysteria, and the flowers evoke nostalgia rather than daydreams. I look at the wonderful job I’m in now, the one I worked for years to prepare for, and I think, guiltily, that amazing though it is, it is not quite what I spent my years dreaming of.
I miss those dreams. I miss the times when everything seemed possible, when there was a plan that made sense, and success was directly tied to hard work and trust in your loved ones.
Don’t get me wrong. I have an amazing family, a girl whom I would trade for no one else on earth, and a job that brings me joy, fulfillment, and pizza money. I am happy.
But I have learned that the marker of adulthood is not when you begin to earn money, not when you finish school, not when you first fall in love, not when you first feel pain. It is when you begin to have regrets.
The act of flying itself feels almost like a childish memory, the quixotic escape from reality of a young man who can’t even afford the avgas, let alone the plane.
But I remember the smiles on the faces of the very special people I have taken flying, the wonder of my friends as they see the photos I take and look at their homeland with new eyes, and the indescribable look on Dad’s face when he realized that yes, I was going to be a pilot. These things feel even more valuable now. They are no longer just the highlights of life, they are reasons to live. It is relationships that matter in this new world of funhouse mirrors and nostalgia and small salaries. And flying is more important to me than ever because of this.
Some parts of flying have diminished in value to me, and some parts have increased tremendously.
And now I think of the man who made this unlikely dream possible in the first place, who’ll enjoy a special day today before being pulled back into the realm of obligations and deadlines.
My Dad. We flew for an hour yesterday, performing S-turns in strong winds using a road for reference, laughing at how fun it was to fly again. I think of the S-turns of life, and how once again my unusual hobby, my aluminum paramour, and my indispensable copilot have helped me make sense of growing up.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
Posted from Manila, June 21, 2009
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Love this!
You guys are my idols! And your blog is an influence to mine.
Thanks, Aeroegz. I’ve seen your blog too, you should write more! And you gotta tell me how you did your banner
Tonet
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Indeed, i should write more.
I did it in photoshop
Blogspot allows unlimited CSS modifications. 
Thanks so much! Writing from the heart is always a challenge, so I’m really glad that you enjoyed it and that it spoke to you. Have a great day!
Carlo
Carlo,
I’m just wondering why you didn’t took an Aviation-related course?
The short answer is that I am a teacher first and a pilot second. Flying is for me a beloved hobby and a dream come true, but it’s not my vocation. I don’t see myself becoming an airline pilot, and while flight instruction was a tempting proposition, I believe I can make a bigger impact by working with young people in a high school or college context. Quixotic, I know, but that’s me.
Nice to see you page.. cant find E-mail addresses on it. Im a privat pilot from Iceland with connections to the Phils.
Hi Atlason. E-mail addy is
tonetrivera@gmail.com
Thanks for visiting!
And you can find me at carlo_rivera_wingwalker@yahoo.com!
Hola, boyprend,
(just kidding)
Hello, wonderful, wonderful Carlo,
This is one of my favorite of your writings so far. This entry has your heart in every sentence. I feel that I can squeeze every sentence of its bittersweet feeling, and I feel I understand more that we have been talking about after reading this.
Bravo.
I wonder the same thing, too. It seems the human spirit is larger than the realm of possibilities that life offers. Some people, when they hit that “maturing point” (as you’ve written above) realize that not everything can be possible, and then walk around life as if carrying a burden of bittersweetness. It’s heavy. It affects their relationships with others negatively. It blocks them from looking upwards and striving for more.
For as long as we are human, we will live in these chains of bittersweetness; because we are bound to life and its rules, some slight tinge of melancholy will always be present, spoiling pure joy like an ink droplet into a body of water.
Some people have genuine trouble reconciling this within themselves, making sense of life. I truly sympathize with them. I like how you turn to the people and endeavors you love around you for comfort. Yes, the good news is you’ll have your Dad, lots of pals, pets, and pizza around to help you carry that burden (the chains, as I’ve called them above), to help you make sense of that bittersweet feeling. I’ll also be there to help you as best as I can. You’ve surely already done the same thing for me.
To be excellent human beings we MUST choose joy, choose to do whatever we can in spite of our circumstances. We cannot let depressing, brooding feelings drag us down on autopilot. Life requires constant discipline to choose joy. Life demands that we never let up on the dreaming.
Always,
Regina
Very true. But even if we choose to live the present joyfully and to keep dreaming optimistically for the future, (cue Barack), the past remains set in stone. I think that the only refuge from the fact that the past cannot be changed is the fact that we can accept that we did the best we could given the circumstances and our human limitations.
A Belated Happy Father’s Day, Capt. Tonet!!
Thank you, Maestro!!
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Hi Carlo!
Another nice article! It’s been a joy spending a day in Omni with you and your dad. I learned a lot, from our conversations in the car about aviation until your dad took me up for more than an hour. This line from your article struck me the most:
“The act of flying itself feels almost like a childish memory, the quixotic escape from reality of a young man who can’t even afford the avgas, let alone the plane. ”
Whenever I fly, I also experience the same feeling, as if I’m a child who badly wants some candies but doesn’t have some coins to buy one. When your dad took me up, the feeling was: “Wow, I got to fly again… this time for free… thank God”.
Even if I can afford to pay for the airplane rental, instructor and the avgas, the joy of flying together with a person you consider as one of your aviation mentor (and mentor in real life in your case) is such a privilege. There is simply no substitute for the advices, encouragements, stick time, and for all that your dad shared with me that day.
I look forward to the day where I could take both of you airborne with me sitting on the left seat. =)
Cheers,
Simon
Thanks, Simon! I feel much the same way about flying with Dad.
His style of mentoring is part of what inspired me to become a teacher.
“….and the indescribable look on Dad’s face when he realized that yes, I was going to be a pilot. ”
And I remember the indescribable look on MY dad’s face when he realized I was going to spend his money on Avgas.
Mike
Hahahaha!!!
A Message From an Older, Contented Dad
I’ve been meaning to reply here.
Busy as I was, I didn’t trust myself to say it right.
I wanted to wait until I had time to write it well.
Sometimes, though, it’s better to let the heart speak. The heck with poetry.
So here goes, plain and true:
Once you start living your dream, it no longer matters how long it took.
I learned to fly at age 45.
Just like Harrison Ford, my only regret is that I waited so long.
But once I started flying, it no longer mattered that I waited so long.
I am already flying!
All that matters now is that I am able to fly for as long as possible.
Once your dream comes true, the struggles are behind you.
It no longer matters how long it took.
All that matters is that you are now living the dream.
These aren’t just words. Think about it:
You are now teaching.
You are having the time of your life.
Doing what you were truly born to do.
What does it matter that it took you a year to get there? You are there, now.
———
And then there is this: Things always work out for the best.
Maybe the delay let other cogs fall in place, in this grand plan called Fate.
Perhaps the delay was a gift in disguise.
You never know until you know.
You had another door open for you last week.
The future stretches ahead, and it can only get better.
Now, what can be more promising than that.
Don’t hurry to grow old. You are in the prime of your life now.
These days will never come back to you.
The only thing that matters now is how much you can pack the days.
Dad.
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Howdy doody Capt Tonet
You’re such an awesome dad. When you said that maybe the delay let other cogs fall into place, it brought to mind one philosopher who said he suspended judgment on events’, refused to label them as “good” or “bad” — he was convinced that the only time he’ll be able to decide on those is on his deathbed, when he has the whole story laid out in front of him.
When you mentioned that it doesn’t matter how things took so long once you have a dream, it made me reflect upon MY own impatience in my earlier years. I remember being fifteen and wishing I was as highly-developed as other “child prodigies” my age. I remember being highly frustrated (it was tough!) at having about the same amount as talent as them, but not being able to play certain pieces as cleanly or correctly as them simply because I did not have the resources they did. It’s only been in the past two years that I’ve begun to consistently feel satisfied with my level of playing; and only recently have I had the confidence in myself to consider a CD. It is strange how life works. It took time, but somehow, yes, now it doesn’t matter.
Which is why luckily I kept myself busy during the wait, immersing myself in other things other than violin. I think they helped keep me sane. also, if I experience “failure” (or temporary setbacks) in violin, I can say, “Okay, so my Paganini didn’t work well, but at least I got to write a new poem!!” Haha.
You really have such a wonderful son. He supports me so much. I really hope I can help him through these difficult feelings. Although it seems he is already doing much better.
Regina
Maestro,
Many years ago, a mentor who Carlo will recognize sent me a website called “Interview with God”. I’ve kept track of it all these years. You will see the link below.
John wasn’t the devout religious type. Far from it. But there it was.
I was traveling in Kuala Lumpur then. It was way past midnight, but I was still working in my hotel room. John’s email came in, and because I needed a break I clicked on the link.
I was in a low point then, and the presentation hit me hard with 4 slides, in particular.
I noticed the email was sent to me and another mentee, Ina. I called her cellphone (remember, it was way past midnight). She was wide awake. She had just seen the email and the website, herself.
She said John sent it to her because her Dad had passed just a few weeks ago.
I don’t know why John sent it to me.
The slides that hit me hard?
– The one about rushing to grow up. That one tore a lot of longing out of my deepest memory cells.
– The one about health. So, so true. Ask me how I know this.
– The one that goes,
“By thinking anxiously about the future,
they forget the present
such that they live in neither the present nor the future.”
– The one that talks about forgiving oneself, more important than forgiving each other.
A lot of these will strike you as pretty neat, poetic, poignant.
I tell you, at my age, each of those hits with a hammer blow of simple, straightforward, visceral truth. Every single statement is simply, devastatingly correct.
I got that email nearly 10 years ago. I have kept track of the site. It has moved servers several times, out of sheer volume of traffic.
It hasn’t changed in over 10 years.
http://www.theinterviewwithgod.com/
So try it and see if some of those sound familiar. If they do, at your tender age, Maestro, that is a BAD thing
Carpe diem!
Keep working on those poems. Experiment with putanesca. Bet against someone at billiards. Paganini has endured for 170 years. He can wait.
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The one on forgiving oneself is something I’ve struggled with for years. I’m very glad you sent me the Interview all those years ago to help keep this in perspective.
Regina! :”>
Thank you again for being so sweet!
Your idea, while beautiful, is far from new. I believe it was Plato who said, “Call no man happy until he is dead.” That is, make no judgments on whether a person’s life was good or bad, happy or sad, until you have hindsight; the big picture. But the problem with that is that by the time you can tell if your life was good, it’s over.
So perhaps it is best to stop passing judgment on the flow of our own lives, and just squeeze as much joy as possible out of each moment. I believe Dad told me something similar just before we went flying yesterday.
Carlo, I didn’t say it was my idea… ?? You must’ve misread what I had written. Didn’t claim it was my idea.
That’s why I said ” one philosopher ” 
Ah yes, I remember now who it was. It was Thomas Hobbes. But he’s hardly one I would want to be heard quoting. Brilliant, but just too pessimistic… :p
He does that once in a while. It’s lack of food, I think. He’s saving up for some big project in November… .
So when are we going to see some of your poetry here, Maestro??
Can’t listen to music on a blog, so we need a holding pattern…
… while some of us wait to revisit Chicago
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Captain!
I will be happy =) to e-mail you some of my poems… I am reluctant to post them on a blog, though. If I plan to submit them to a magazine in the future (and i do, some of them at least), most magazines want first rights to the poem, and will not accept any previously published work. However, they will publish the poems if I posted them previously on a private blog (password-protected and limited to certain people), as I have.
I will ask Carlo for your e-mail address. I always tell people that they don’t need to like my poems – I will be happy if they even bother reading them..
Regina
tonet.rivera@mjn.com
I’ve acquired a taste for poetry in the last couple of years, something which I had lost after High School.
I’ll hold my breath
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I think your poems are wonderful, and that means something coming from someone who took Literature and Philosophy, and makes a living teaching English.
Of course, I’m also totally biased, so..
Yes, definitely lack of food.
Turns out that teaching burns calories like heck… 
Thanks, Dad. As Calvin and Hobbes once said, the days are just packed!
I’ve been telling myself that the vagaries of the path are not as important as the destination. And I certainly accomplished my wish to step outside my comfort zone!
It’s a blessing to have many of my goals in hand this early in life – I hope the best is yet to come!
Carlo