Connie Sue White recently joined Flying’s editorial team as managing editor. Connie Sue, a University of Florida
journalism grad, brings 20 years of magazine publishing experience to Flying, as well as a strong flying
heritage (thanks to her father’s passion for aviation). Her first memory of
“taking” the controls was during a family trip in her father’s Bonanza when she
was 7 (yes, there’s a bit of a story behind that!). Not too long after that,
her dad, a young 42, quit a well-paying white-collar job and started a new
career: rebuilding Waco biplanes (and yes, there’s a story behind that, too!).
Then, he purchased a grass strip in Zellwood, Florida. With airplanes all
around her, mostly antique biplanes and high-wing taildraggers, and plenty of
time hanging out at the airport (her dad lived on the airport), it was only
natural that she learned how to fly. Her first “lessons” began with her father
in a Piper Cub when she was 12. She later transitioned to an Aeronca 7EC Champ,
in which she soloed on the morning of her 16th birthday (much to her
mother’s dismay, but that’s yet another
story). Connie Sue flew casually around the patch for the next couple of years,
before heading off to college. When she returned home, it was always her
intention to learn how to fly her dad’s Waco, Big Red.
“Flying in that open cockpit seemed to be about the purest
kind of flying there is, so peaceful and gentle, ” she recalls. “When we’d go
up, I would regularly glance back at my dad and we’d always flash big, wide
grins at each other.”
But, tragically, her father died in an airplane crash when
she was 26. Her drive to fly died, too, and she never looked back — until now.
Twenty-eight years after her first solo, she’s not only working at a venerated
aviation magazine, but she is also back in the air, working toward a private
pilot’s certificate at FlightSafety Academy in Vero Beach, Florida — two turns of
events she never would have dreamed of happening. Join her on what will be a
candid account of the continuation of an emotionally rich journey that was
interrupted by a heartbreaking personal tragedy. Beginning with an account of
her first day back in the air….
BLOGBOOK ENTRY 1
On Saturday, an entry
was made into my pilot logbook for the first time since 1981 (yes, I did keep
my original logbook). My instructor, FlightSafety CFI Seth Zeigler, and I flew for 1.1 hours in N9213D, a
Piper Cadet, out of KRVB (Vero Beach). My last logged flight was Oct. 4, 1981,
in N16JV, an Aeronca
7EC Champ, out of Bob White Field, Zellwood, Fla (X61). I had my student
pilot's license then, so I was taking the Champ around the patch a few times
that day, doing touch-and-gos on 09/27 (the only runway). But, now it’s a
little bit different, to say the least. This time I'm starting from scratch and working toward my private's license through FlightSafety Academy. We knocked
out the first two lessons: Lesson 1 was a three-hour briefing going over the
POH (more on that later) and
Lesson 2, the Discovery Flight. Prior to the flight, I couldn't help but wonder
how it was going to feel...would I remember how to control the airplane or
would it be like starting over? After the preflight, Seth let me taxi to our
run-up area. Once we went through the run-up, he took over and we took off on
11R with a 9 kt crosswind. He turned the controls over to me once we got to our
desired cruise altitude (1,500). It was a bit choppy, but I was able to
maintain straight and level, and do the 30-degree banks w/out losing or gaining
much altitude. This was a big part of my lessons as a kid. My dad
and I worked on it a lot at the beginning because I had trouble with it.
"Keep an eye on the altimeter," he'd yell in regular intervals from
the back seat (I say "yell" because we didn't have headsets and it
was a bit noisy in the front/back seat-configured Piper Cub in which I began my first lessons). This time was
different. It came right back to me and I was able to maintain altitude
without much problem, both by feel and instruments. It felt natural. It
surprised me that nearly three decades later I still had a feel for it. Seth
was surprised, too. He commented during our post-flight briefing that on
their first few times up most students can't maintain altitude through turns,
or even when straight and level. He said things went "really well.” That
made me feel good and filled up my confidence meter for the next time, which
means my "fear" meter will be on the way down. Ok, maybe I can do this ...
BLOGBOOK
It was only two months ago that I decided to get back into flying. It was too hard to resist once I started working on the magazine and reading it word for word. It brought back so many memories and a familiarity from which I had become estranged after my dad’s death. And a frank realization: Aviation is a significant part of my personal heritage and has a wee bit to do with who I am today. Funny, how a tragedy can make one block out an important segment of one’s life. But I digress. When the opportunity to go to flight school at FlightSafety arose, I couldn’t pass it up. Admittedly, my feelings were a mixed bag of excitement, fear and curiosity.
Excitement because of the adventure — and it was flying after all!
Fear because I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be tempting
fate since my dad died in a plane crash, as did his brother 26 years
before. Irrational? Probably. But too
many things have happened in my life against the odds. I countered my fear by
telling myself that doing this would “break the chain” and, of course, that it was silly to think that way.
Curiosity because also I wondered if I could really do it — overcome
my above-mentioned fear and accomplish the mental challenge.
The only way to find out was to jump right back in and
continue the journey.
BLOGBOOK ENTRY 3
The first thing I did in preparation for flight school was to pull out a dusty storage bin from my closet. It hasn't been touched for more than 11 years (when I moved into my house). Inside, was my logbook with the earliest entry from 31 years ago and the last, 28. I wanted to log my “new” training in this book. The pages are yellowed and crinkled, but the writing is still legible. Including that of my dad’s. His scrawled entries hit me with a breath-taking force of familiarity: PA-12: climbs, shallow turns, pilotage; Waco UKC: discovery flight; Stinson 108-3: turns, stalls, climb, approach to landing; Stampe: straight and level, turns; Bonanza: short cross-country. Needless to say, along with the logbook, there were other bits of memorabilia in the bin that I had turned my back on years ago because of the pain they brought me... pictures of my parents during their second life together (of course, there’s a story behind this as well), of my dad with his airplanes. I gazed upon these reminders with wistfulness and love. The heart-wrenching pain was finally gone — or at least temporarily out to lunch. Maybe it really is time for me to move forward with this journey, I thought as I placed the top back on the bin.
Stay tuned for the next BLOGBOOK ENTRIES, from getting my medical to beginning ground school my very first day at FlightSafety, where a I meet someone who turns out to be a familiar acquaintance ...

I always wondered why the airport became named Bob white field, and I assume the answer is that Bob White was a member of your family, perhaps your dad or another family member.
I enjoyed your story, as it parallels the variety of experiences of how many of us came back to flying after decades passed since ours initial flights.
I look forward to your future blogs.
I am sorry I violated the rule of journalism by beginning each sentance with "I." :-)
Longwood, FL
Posted by: Alan M Hoffberg | November 26, 2009 at 07:38 AM
Your words touched places in my memory long ago buried, and your pain was truly felt as the dust fell away from my own experiences. I look forward to your stories, knowing although we have taken different paths, they both are irreversibly connected to flying.
Posted by: Philip Wilson | November 28, 2009 at 01:18 AM
Yes, the airport is named after my father. A sign hanging from a pine tree along the entrance to the airport said: Bob White Field, a Grass Strip Forever. It had his "starter" Waco, Big Red, flying over a field. The gentleman who bought the airport from my mother after dad died was kind enough to keep the name. Not sure if this sign is still there. I think I will head out there one of these weekends to visit. Who knows maybe some of the people who had airplanes out there are still there. Another blog post in the making, for sure.
Posted by: Connie Sue White | November 28, 2009 at 07:55 AM
Talk about a dream come true! I would love to be in your situation as I am sure you realize many would too (my Dad could afford to take my brother, not me) I hope you will share also the different "feeling" from learning how to fly by the "seat of the pants" on those old fabric tail draggers on a grass strip, as opposed to now that you are going to one of the most recognizable and top of the art schools (& digitally equipped).
Enjoy and looking forward to read your experience since for most of all, going to a professional school will only be a dream. Good luck and welcome back to aviation!
Posted by: Peter Bichier | November 29, 2009 at 06:50 PM
Lovely story, Connie Sue!
Welcome back to the world of fliers. Your daddy would be proud.
Posted by: Michael Maya Charles | December 08, 2009 at 11:28 AM