http://flash.avweb.com/avwebflash/news/Midshipman-Wins-Collins-Writing-Award-232537-1.html

Midshipman Wins Collins Writing Award

By AVweb Staff | April 2, 2019

Emma Hutchinson, a U.S. Naval Academy midshipman, has won the
inaugural Richard L. Collins Writing Prize for Young Pilots, according
to Sporty’s Pilot Shop. The company established the award last year
under the banner of its Air Faces Journal, an online resurrection of
the publication Richard L. Collins’ father, Leighton, launched in
1938.

Midshipman Hutchinson won for an essay called “The Old Man in the
Plane,” a tribute to her grandfather who inspired her with his tales
of flight. She wrote, “My grandpa told me the sky was his church, the
place he felt the presence of a higher being, always present. He
guided me to start my own journey in the old plane, this time with a
new instructor.” Read the winning article here. https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/03/the-old-man-in-the-plane/

Hutchinson will receive a $2500 award to be presented during Sun ‘n
Fun 2019. Hutchinson is pursuing a Bachelor of Science degree in
English and earned her private pilot certificate in 2017. She’s a
member of the USNA cycling team, paints and writes daily. Upon her commissioning, Hutchinson wants to fly helicopters for in the U.S.
Marine Corps, a goal of which she says her grandfather, Ronald
Hutchinson, would be proud.

Based on the success of this first year’s Writing Prize, plans are
underway to continue this award in 2020. Details will be posted at on
the Air Facts Journal site later this year. ==============================================================

https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/03/the-old-man-in-the-plane/

The Old Man In The Plane
by Emma Hutchinson
Editor’s note: This article was the winning entry in the inaugural
Richard Collins Writing Prize for Young Pilots. Over 60 young pilots
sent in articles for consideration, and after reading them all our distinguished panel of judges (including Richard’s son) selected Emma Hutchinson as the winner of the $2,500 award. We hope you’ll agree
that this moving article is a fine tribute to a great writer and
pilot.
At first glance, the exterior of the airplane appears worn. The
slightly faded red and blue paint streaks twisting to the underbelly
of the old bird hint to the notable life it has lived. The wings creak
with stories of windy skies. The rudder holds signs of endless dips
and swoops and turns and glides. Although this plane may at first seem
unsafe, the prop holds the real strength. To the touch, the twisted
beams of metal divulge tales of the perfect takeoff, the nail biter
landings and every trip in between.

But, the outside only serves to foreshadow the weathered appearance of
the cockpit. The chipped varnish on the yoke from countless death
grips on final approach perhaps reveals more about the previous owner
than the plane itself. The slightly crooked compass serves as a
directional aid, which will help the new owner to fly on a straight
course if they turn their head slightly to the left, that is. The
seats crack with age and smell of old leather. The flight instruments
appear just as they did back in the golden age of aviation. Although
worn down, this plane has an unspoken reliability, telling a story of
an old man and a young girl.

My grandpa was not a pretty man. His blue eyes crinkled with childish
delight each time he flew, but they could not cover the sun scars,
wrinkles or cheeks as large as apples. He laughed like a steam engine
train roaring down the rails, loud and with explosion. His cheeks were
always flushed deep red as they filled with color in the morning and
stayed that way until he went to bed each night. His hair was pepper.
His belly was round from too many cookies. His short legs looked as
pale as legs could be. That said, his personality was the most
beautiful thing about him. His laugh, his smile and especially his
witty quips all contributed to a loud and purposeful life.

Hutchinson grandfather by Cirrus
Poppop, with his brand new airplane – nothing like the old one.
My grandpa’s childhood dream was to become a train engineer and as
such, his mechanical intellect was unparalleled. He could imagine the
whole engine of any movable machine and figure out exactly what was
wrong with it or what it needed based on sound. When he stepped into
the workshop, my grandpa was in his element. With his tools dirty with
oil, his pants full of dirt that would bring reprimands from my
grandma and some old machine sputtering slowly to life, his was the
life of luxury. A favorite pastime was teasing his granddaughters. His
eyes twinkled especially bright if he could make them blush and say,
“Poppop!” My first childhood memories of my grandfather are not ones
of him playing with me nor of him burning cookies, both which happened
quite often, but ones of flight.

At age five, my favorite part of playing consisted of the moment on a
swing where gravity had not yet taken hold, the brief second of free
flight looking up at the clouds. I felt like I was on a rocket ship.
The only thing better was actually flying in the clouds next to my
grandpa. I don’t remember the day I became a copilot, but it was a
position I would hold throughout my childhood with pride. My siblings understood that my time next to Poppop was sacred. If I was lucky, he
would let me take hold of the controls during takeoff. My small hand
would carefully hold on, and pull back lightly when prompted. I never
really believed that I was fully in control of those takeoffs, but he
assured me that I led the whole operation. I was a shy child, but in
that moment I held the power to escape some laws of gravity and my
shyness melted away like the trails of exhaust in the wind.

The rickety plane followed our every wish and desire as we spent days
simply finessing flight. I grew up adoring the blinding sun touching
the end of the wing with a shifting sparkle. My eyes were taken with
the floating clouds above, the Lego set ground below and the expanse
of water in the distance. The plane led us everywhere and never once
failed us. The rough exterior revealed nothing about the power in the
prop nor the memories of those seats. It had a smell that never failed
to calm my nerves and reminded me during moments of fear to look at my
grandpa, take a breath and try again.

My grandpa told me the sky was his church, the place he felt the
presence of a higher being, always present. He guided me to start my
own journey in the old plane, this time with a new instructor. As I
started my flight lessons with a certified flight instructor, my
grandpa bought a new airplane. This plane was sleek, beautiful and
incomparable to our previous plane. The paint shimmered even without
the sunlight. The compass finally sat at a perfect 90 degree angle.
The seats were plush leather, smelled of a new car and held none of
the comfort of the old plane. The plane was perfect.

One Saturday, I returned sweaty and tired from a cross country meet.
My mother explained we needed to visit my grandparents’ house as soon
as I climbed into the car with my three younger siblings. At first
annoyed, I complained that all I wanted to do was shower and take a
long nap. I fell silent upon looking at her. She gripped the steering
wheel with white knuckles and tears streamed down her face. I turned
to question her, but realized she couldn’t speak as she covered her
mouth to keep her sobs silent from my younger siblings. I felt an
overwhelming sense of dread at what news I would be receiving.

Once we arrived, my siblings sat on the porch waiting. We were bracing ourselves for news of my grandma’s ailment as she had been in poor
health recently. I was stunned when my grandma came out onto the porch
with us. I grabbed my younger sister’s hand. My father stepped out and
started a sentence, “The Coast Guard contacted us about Poppop’s
plane… he crashed into the-” He was interrupted by a cry of grief as
my younger sister screamed “No, not him. Not him.” I sat in silence. I
held my sobbing sister and wondered again and again why I wasn’t with
him. My siblings’ screams echoed in the big house once full of steam
engine laughter, now empty.

FlightAware track
A flight that went terribly wrong.
My grandpa’s death was not a peaceful fall into the afterlife, but a
death fitting to the greatness of his character. Falling unconscious
for unknown reasons, he could no longer control the airplane. The new
plane continued on the initial flight plan, flying over the restricted
in airspace in Washington, D.C. Two F-16s circled the airplane as soon
as it passed through the bounds of the airspace, noting his slumped
figure. They stayed with him the rest of his flight, acting as the
wingmen he needed in those moments. The prop eventually slowed to a
stop when the fuel ran out. The airplane crashed into the ocean and
with it fell the only man who understood me completely, going down
with his plane into the Atlantic. The grief surrounded me when I
imagined the plane crashing into the depths of the ocean as the water surrounded him.

The only piece of comfort in the days following my grandpa’s death was
the seats, the smell, the old plane sitting in the suddenly empty
hangar. I sat in the hangar by myself, some days brave enough to
clamber into the plane and other days barely able to look at it.

Although my Poppop is gone, he often comes out in my younger brother’s
booming laugh. His love of cookies has undoubtedly transferred to me,
as well. But the greatest gift my grandfather ever bestowed onto me
was the great love and appreciation for the sky. When I am up in the
air, I know I am not truly alone and that my copilot is sitting right
next to me guiding my every move. The sky has become my church. The
old plane lives on, sputtering to life each time I twist the ignition
and still smelling of leather and comfort.

A few years have passed since my grandpa’s death but the plane never
fails to remind me of him and his incredible place in my memory. I
grew up in these seats, grew old when I learned to fly by myself and
grew wiser when I realized the plane was of truly no importance, but
the memories will always be of significance to me. I continue on my
flight journey alone but the old man in the sky lives on in the plane
holding the story of an old man and a young girl.

23
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Bio
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Emma Hutchinson
Emma Hutchinson is a 3/C midshipman at the United States Naval Academy
pursuing a Bachelor of Science degree in English. She earned her
Private Pilot’s License in 2017 and flies during her leave from school
and military obligations. She is a member of the USNA cycling team,
paints in her free time, and writes daily. She is the second oldest of
five children and believes her family to be her greatest support and motivation. Emma desires to fly helicopters for the Marine Corps upon
her commissioning, a goal of which she knows her grandfather, Ronald Hutchinson, would be proud.

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23 Comments
Steve Green
March 28, 2019 at 12:56 pm
We are because they were. We will always be because they have been.

What a beautiful story, beautifully written. One of those I know I
will remember always.

REPLY
Bruce
March 28, 2019 at 3:12 pm
A moving and kind of sad story, until reading the author’s bio which
made it a bright and happy ending. Congratulations on your win, Emma,
and good luck in your Naval career. I’m sure your poppop, and all your
family are very proud.

REPLY
Drew Kemp
April 1, 2019 at 10:33 am
Emma,

Your story brought a tear to my eye. Your Poppop was up there with
you, gently guiding you from a very early age, every flight with him imperceptibly shaping you into the pilot you are now, and will become
in the future, wherever that leads you. You are part of a continuum.
My Dad, however much he wanted to be Pilot, never could be for medical
reasons. But in his own way, he shaped me into the Pilot I am today.
In the midst of the drama of illness and a crumbling marriage, he
would somehow find the time to take me to the Oakland Airport to watch
the huge airliners land and take off. He would buy me airplane models
to assemble, mostly WWII aircraft that he was familiar with. He would
take me to Airshows to watch the Blue Angels.
When I was old enough and wanted to begin my flight training, he set
me on a course that continues to this day. One day when I was about
15, we had a discussion about how to get going with flight training.
He was in no position to financially support my flight training. What
he did was pull out a Billie Holliday record, and he played “God Bless
the Child”. Listening to the lyrics, I got it. If I was going to do
this, I had to do it myself. The next morning, I got on a bus and rode
out to the airport. I knocked on doors until I found someone who would
give a job to a scruffy teenager who wanted to fly.

The rest will be my next story for Air Facts Journal. Thank you for
the inspiration. The judges made the right choice.

Cheers, Drew Kemp

REPLY
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Galen King
March 30, 2019 at 10:07 am
Emma, Congratulations on your “wonderful” well written article!
Perfect!
So sorry about your Grandpa….. I wish you all the best.

Reading your story, good thing I didn’t have any contacts in, I may
have washed them right out of my eyes.

REPLY
Theo Truter
March 31, 2019 at 9:36 am
Well done Emma. Happy landings!

REPLY
Clif Rogers
March 31, 2019 at 9:49 am
Thank you for a very great tribute to an ordinary person by an
exceptional young pilot
serving our country. As one the age of your grandfather, thank you for
the respect you
have given your mentor. Thank you for your service time from all of
us.

Regards, C. Rogers
‘Champ 7EC Driver’

REPLY
Ken Chapline
March 31, 2019 at 10:07 am
Dear Emma: What a great gift you have been given. Your memories and
shared times will only get sharper and they will serve you well. Know
your PopPop is among the greatest aviators to have ever flown and when
YOUR skies are the darkest and YOUR ride the bumpiest, listen for
them. That bolt of confidence will be PopPop saying,
…” Atta girl Emma, you can do it”.

REPLY
Lincoln Phillip
March 31, 2019 at 10:09 am
Such a moving story. Your beautiful prose brought me to tears as I sat
in a hotel lobby waiting for my room. This is such a beautiful piece
and I hope you develop it into something more! A book or perhaps a
movie. I am sorry for the loss of your Grandpa, but I love the
inspiration he instilled in you.

REPLY
Wagner Gitirana
March 31, 2019 at 10:19 am
It brought tears to my eyes as I realized how it would end.
Beautifully written. Congratulations to Emma and with gratitude for
her service at the US Navy. The prize was certainly well earned.

REPLY
John
March 31, 2019 at 10:23 am
Gosh I love this story, Nothing is better than when a writer is
writing from her heart and not necessarily her brain. Poppop surely is
bursting with pride. Thank you for sharing your story. I hope one day
my VTail passes by your Marine Corps Helicopter thank you for sharing
your story and thank you for you service to our country

REPLY
Paula
March 31, 2019 at 11:18 am
Wow great writing and story. It bought back great memories of my Dad
and I flying. Reminded me how lucky I am to have the gift of flying.

REPLY
George
March 31, 2019 at 11:51 am
As “Papa” of 3 granddaughters, ages 5 to 3, I want to say thank Emma!
You sharing your story helps reinforce the experience I’m trying to
share with my granddaughters, even though they may be too young to
express their feelings right now. I am excited to see how their
journey unfolds just as I’m sure your Poppop was very proud and
excited to observe and share in yours. I wish you all the best!

REPLY
Ray Landes
March 31, 2019 at 12:12 pm
Emma:
I appreciate your touching story. I grew up in aviation sitting on a
phone book flying beside my father. I am lucky that he survived his
flying career. I know several families steeped in general aviation
that have lost loved ones. Like the pictures in the bar at Edwards
Airforce Base depicted in the movie “The Right Stuff”, tragedy is a
constant companion to the aviator. You have been given a special gift
by your grandfather: the opportunity to learn to fly as a child. Just
as many professional musicians are children of musicians, your early
exposure will make you a natural pilot. To this day when I land I hear
my father’s voice:”Hold it off; hold it off”. I fly GA for many
reasons. An important one is flying brings me closer to those I have
loved but lost. My father has crossed the bar. But I always find him
waiting for me in the sky.

REPLY
CARLOS QUILICHINI
March 31, 2019 at 1:00 pm
What beautiful and heart warming story. I read through it as seeing
everything written, thank you Emma.

REPLY
Richard
March 31, 2019 at 3:00 pm
Great story. Great young adult. Young adults like this retires my
faith that our country will be ok. Thank you for your service in
advance. Godspeed to you Emma., well deserved award!

PS- I hope I am able to inspire my own grandchild in aviation like
your PopPop did for you. Funny, my own called me poppop until they
could say grandpa! LOL.

REPLY
Rich
March 31, 2019 at 3:00 pm
Oops. “Restores” not “retires”.

REPLY
Colin Brown
March 31, 2019 at 3:09 pm
Well done. Keep writing – there are hundreds of thousands of safe
pilots today because of Dick Collins’ writing. This award keeps his
spirit alive – just like your grandpa’s. We need to hear more from
you.

REPLY
José Serra
March 31, 2019 at 3:31 pm
Great story, Emma. I’m a grandfather already with 71 years old and
I’ve been flying since my twenties. My son also flyes and, most of the
times, we fly together. Unfortunately, my oldest grandson (not the
same with the youngest), doesn’t like to fly. I wish I have the
fortune that he’ll like to fly also with me, so that he, someday, when
I passed over, he could remember the joy of flying, and flying with
me, shearing the joy You expressed in Your touching story.

REPLY
Ken Howell
March 31, 2019 at 4:50 pm
Emma, I can certainly identify with your story, having taken my own grandchildren (and various nieces, nephews, brothers and sons-in-law)
flying in my RV-7. It almost brought me to tears, not only for the
tragedy depicted, but also for the beautiful prose and appreciation
for flight. That’s saying something for a 79 year old guy who has been
around the block a few times. I remember hearing about the incident
when it happened. So sad. I hope you get to fly helicopters in the
Marines, but whatever you do, keep writing.
Cheers, Ken Howell

REPLY
Cary ALBURN
March 31, 2019 at 8:21 pm
Dear, dear Emma, you are a writer first class! I sat reading your
story just before church started this morning, and I’m sure those
around me wondered why the tears were flowing. Thank you so much for
sharing, in such beautiful prose. I have no doubt that Poppop was
proud of you long before his passing, and that he would be all the
more proud of you now.

I have taken all three of my grandchildren in my airplane, and my
granddaughter is the one most likely to continue to fly. She seems
like a natural, although it’s hard to tell whether at age 8 she’ll
maintain that interest. I hope she does.

Very best wishes for your military career. I remain proud of my time
in the USAF, many long years ago. Whatever your future brings, I
predict success. You are a special, very special, young woman.

REPLY
Frank LiBretto
March 31, 2019 at 10:09 pm
I can immediately tell why this was a winner. My eyes became faucets
the moment I realized the turn this story was about to make. Most
people can only hope to pass peacefully in their sleep. I guess the
next best thing is to pass doing something that you love. It is great
that you find solace in the fact that your grandpa will always be with
you in spirit.

All the best pursuing your hopes and dreams. I know your grandpa will
be proud of you. Thank you for serving our country and giving me the
good cry I probably needed.

REPLY
Harold Coghlan
April 3, 2019 at 9:41 am
Emma, that was a beautiful and heartfelt story. I can relate to it, as
I recall my own World War 2 Grandfather Aviator, and the nice flying
stories shared by him and my father of aerobatics in NA T-6 Texans and
such. Those stories helped spark the desire to fly that led to my
following on that dream, and 40 years of combined Active Duty and
Guard/Reserve military flying in everything from jet fighters and
transports to rescue helicopters. Now as I enjoy the twilight of my
aviation career in an airliner jet, I can’t but help think every day
on those powerful mentors. Enjoy life everyday, and enjoy every
flight, like it might be your last. Thanks for choosing to serve your
Country. There can be no higher calling. You will enjoy the inner
peace that comes from flying for a higher calling. Flying helos was a
blast, you will love it. Most of all, enjoy being in the sky every
time as if it was a Cathedral. God Bless, and best of luck with
everything in life.

REPLY
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