Francis Gary Powers - Homenagem nas alturas.

"Para o aviador, o som dos pistões é uma bela sinfonia, o som de um jato é a síntese da força. Aviões perigosos não existem, somente não são pilotados adequadamente." - Francis Gary Powers.

Uma bela homenagem a uma das profissões mais bem vista hoje em dia.

Falando em aviões me lembrei de uma visita feita à Base Aérea de Anápolis, Estado de Goiás, no ano passado.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Francis Gary Powers - Homage in the highest.

"For the aviator, the sound of the pistons is a beautiful symphony, the sound of a jet is the epitome of strength. Airplanes are not dangerous, they are just not properly flew." - Francis Gary Powers.

A beautiful homage to one of the most highly regarded professions today.

- Unfortunately I couldn't find a video with the same homage in English, so I will post a text which translates the video message:

"There are two types of pilots, those who lead in their blood the need to fly for the same reason they need to sleep, eat or breathe and those who do simply by task, obligation or because they had no alternative. These last ones, usually come to the profession by accident or by chance. Early often have anxiety from niíiez when they saw the aircrafts as remarkables, mysticals, sublimes. Perhaps many of these started, as a child, to build model airplanes or collecting photos, posters or any other collection with air grounds. They knew the specifications and data of any plane in great detail. When they grow up and are fortunate enough to realize their dream of childhood, they greatly enjoy your work, they feel (and are) the most fortunate planet men.

Pilots are a class apart from humans, they leave worldliness to purify his spirit in the sky and return to earth only after receiving the communication from the infinite. " This group knows the difference between flying to survive and survive to fly. Aviation also teaches humility and pride, even though flying is a spell, they fall victim to their own curse. When on land, and during sunny days, they continuously monitor the sky wishing to be there, during rainy days and cloudy, they recreate flight procedures in their minds.

The pilot knows that the best flight simulator is in himself, in his imagination, in his attitude, because the pilot's mind is always open to new information and understands that to fly you have to believe in the unknown. However, pilots are logical men, calm, disciplined, which by necessity need to think clearly, because otherwise they risk losing their life violently sitting in the cockpit. The true pilot does not tie his body to the body of the plane, on the contrary, through the harness he ties the plane behind him, at his anatomy. The controls of the aircraft become an extension of his person. This simple action unites man and machine in the symmetry of a single entity, in a unique mix and indecipherable, every vibration, every sound, every smell makes sense, and the pilot properly interprets them. There is no doubt that the engine is the heart of a plane but the pilot is the soul that rules it, pilots do not see their objects like machines, on the contrary, they are breathing life forms and have different personalities. There are times when they dialogue with them. These seduced mortals perceive the airplane as unconditional beautiful gifts. They can not avoid being infected by the spell and live the rest of their lives captivated by the spell of its beauty. For the pilot, receiving a plane is like finding a missing relative, again and again. When the tragic fate shows its inexorable presence and lives are lost in air mishaps, the essence of the pilot gets sad by what happened. But he can not stop, perhaps by an infinitesimal second, that the shadow of his thought goes back to the unit and  stroke of one grief, the "dropped friedn", it is inevitable.

For the aviator, the sound of pistons is a splendid symphony, the sound of a jet, synthesis of force. Airplanes are not dangerous, they are just not properly flew. For them, airports are altars of human talent, there are performed daily miracles and challenges facing the energy of nature and the force of gravity. They are sacred places where the ritual of flying is exalted and glorified, where roads and borders are collapsed and the world shrinks. In those same cries of joy... is sorrow. Where hopes are born and ideals succumb. In those distant places and evoke longing absent ones. Where in the sound of silence lives the memories and deeds of giants.

In the air the pilot is in his element, his your home, it is where he belongs. This is where he manages to break free from the bondages that holds him to the ground. It is a gift from God and the airman is accepted with respect and joy. This privilege allows you to scale mountains, prodigious dimensions of space and reach the sky that any other mortals have not reached. This gift allows you to appreciate the perfection of the Creator and how small humans are. It allows you, too, to recognize that no one has seen the mountain until he sees his shadow from the sky.

To distinguish a person who has offered his soul to aviation is easy: in a crowd, when a plane flies, his eyes immediately go to the sky looking for it, and they will not rest until thee eyes contact with the object of their distraction is made, no matter how many times they have seen the same plane, they must see it, it is something unconscious and arises spontaneously.

Pilots may be able to explain the physical elements of the flight, but describe what it does to its existence is impossible. For explaining the magic of flying is beyond the words." Francis Gary Powers.

Talking about airplanes I remembered of a visit I did to Anápolis Air Base in Goiás last year.