It started with my first flight lesson when I was only 14 years old. It’s a moment I’ve cherished all these years. My grandfather in the back seat of the Cessna 172, a longtime pilot himself, the love of aviation pulses in my veins. When I was in my teens, I’d ride my red Yamaha scooter through small-town Oklahoma to meet up with the FedEx feeder pilot who took his Cessna Grand Caravan all over Texas picking up and delivering mail. He’d let me sit up in the cockpit each night just to dream of what it would be like to be a pilot like him.

After acquiring many hours of flight training on the path to becoming a professional pilot, fate had other plans. I painfully learned that my red-green color vision was so far off that I could not pass the required color vision exam to gain the required medical certificate. Despite that crushing defeat, my love of aviation has remained and I’m in awe of the physics of flight and the passionate community that works to keep the dream of flight alive.