Michael Matthews:  

CLASS OF 1970
Michael Matthews's Classmates® Profile Photo
Ramey SchoolClass of 1970
Ramey afb,
Ramey afb,
Roswell, NM
Roswell, NM

Michael's Story

The picture is me in a B-17 I was fortunate enough to get a ride in. One of my students is a volunteer for the foundation that keeps these historic aircraft in the air. I drove up to Phoenix, met with all of the pilots and ground crew and flew back to Tucson sitting right in the nose. Perhaps a few of you are familiar with the Movie "The Best Years of our Lives."? I sat there in the nose watching the landscape disappear underneath me and reflected on the many turns and twists of my own life and the lives of those I love. Somebody up there likes me. I always wanted to be a Pilot when I was young in those tropical days. Some of my family and friends thought that was a great idea. They supported me at every turn, especially when I had those moments of doubt. There were others who thought I would never do it. Perhaps they don't have faith in themselves, in any case they were wrong. I remember working on my Flight Instructor rating and how difficult it was to come up with the money, time and determination to get it done. On the Centennial of Flight, after a practice flight in the late afternoon with the sun setting, I was listening to NPR. They were interviewing a woman flight instructor in her 90's(!) who had actually known the Wright Brothers. She was still instructing, still had her health, her eyes were good and she was giving the interviewer his 1st lesson. You couuld tell she loved what she was doing. And that in her heart and soul she was as young as her body was old. I knew then I was going to succeed. It couldn't have been an accident that I heard this inspiring story at just the right moment. Within the month I had my rating and a job as a flight instructor and have been doing it since. If you have faith even the size of a mustard seed....... I only wish I had know this earlier on. I am 56 now (and a 1/2:-), it is never too late. Well, now I'm 60 and lately become aware that there are less days ahead than behind. I now own the flight school and have renamed it Marana Flight School. I am the Chief pilot and have one other instructor working for me. It's Thanksgiving 2012 and Christmas seeming like a lick away. I try to slow down time by taking my dog for a walk twice a day and really looking at trees and sky. I play the guitar each day and improve a little. Well, now I'm 63 and the past 3 years have been the most eventful of my life. The business has been flourishing(so far) and in the middle of the economic downturn, it seems miraculous. I've recently gone from 1 airplane to three and 1 office to 2 with 4 times the room and evening ground school classes forming, and more and more connections. It's really all quite unbelievable! The friends I have made on the field have made it possible for me to be able to take an occasional day off. My pass rate on student practical tests is well over 95% and I gotta tell you, the early morning flights over the desert and the desert mountains is something I never get tired of. I have recently sold almost all of my steel stringed guitars and replaced them with classical guitars(nylon strings). My hands(along with the rest of me) just can't take the kind of tension and pressure they used to be able to. I was alway proud of the strength in my hands and thankfully the dexterity has not failed me as badly. I wake up each da...Expand for more
y now with an unwilling but vital montra wirling through my morning coffee. "Don't waste a minute! Each day is a gift!" I used to rebel against the idea that the only reason I would buckle down and change my sometimes sedentary lifestyle was that life itself was finite. And while I hope finality is still out of sight and "around the bend"(at least 1 and perhaps 2:-) My psyche says "I don't give a damn, you better listen up dude! Spend less time on the TV, the internet, take the dog for a walk, swim in the pool, etc, etc,) the list is long and the days, however many there may, be are dwindling. I can so remember the days on the beach in PR where I was conscious of a seemingly unending richness of days that allowed me to just spend some of them doing absolutely nothing but feel the sun on my back, listen to the waves, marvel at the blue sky, and the clarity of the ocean. Listen to the waves like they were a symphony, taking in each nuance, not just one by one, but the whole series of permutations throughout the day. Measure and movement. Absolutely no thought, no thought at all of anything short of eating it all like candy from a bottomless bag. Knowing that I was doing so and that one day that privilege would be no more. I don't think I could now spend a day in such slightly bored and careless sensual decadence. Each moment is almost anointed with purpose and fulfillment. When I fly in the mornings, my students will sometimes ask me why I occasionally just start laughing out loud. The shadows, the slanting morning sun through the following nights lingering clouds and mist. The outlines of mountains and more mountains stretching into Mexico. On some mornings it's possible, when the sun is just right, to see the green and yellow reflection of all the highway signs far below for miles, almost blinding. The little Legoland and Minecraft houses. That instant when then plane lifts off for the 1st few hundred feet. The voices of the others in the sky with us calling out their positions. And I feel like the luckiest person alive. Really alive. And I certainly hope and wish the same for you all. 64 at the end of this month! "Will you still need me, will you still feed me....." Going Puerto Rico in March!!! 1st time in 47 years. I'm almost tearing up thinking about it. Then on to St. Croix for some scuba. I will ,of course, take as many pictures as possible and upload them. Along with remembrances of "that time." If IRMA leaves any of PR left that is. 65 now and even so many months before departure to PR and St. Croix I can not fully express all the emotions tumbling over each other. I know that without the faces and voices that I knew it will be a lonely journey of remembrance. If I go into that distant past, that time seems to morph into a swift instant, I would take with me the good sense to look more closely and more often at the sunsets, listen more intently to the rolling crash and thump of the waves in the night before I slept, walk through the jungle growth on the steep path to Survival smelling of it's damp green. I still am in remarkably good health and I know I will be tempted to try that path. But not in a pair of slippery JC's! Will it make me feel older or will the sights, sounds and smells add a percent or two to the remaining years I have? However many that may be?
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Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
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Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
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Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
Michael Matthews' Classmates profile album
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