Feeling cranky about air travel? Get a grip.
Not on the arm of your passenger seat--on reality, history, and the
incredible accomplishment of human flight.
We've just celebrated the 100th anniversary of the Wright brothers'
historic flight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. Although there
werecertainly others who were experimenting
with flying machines--most notably, Alberto Santos-Dumont, a Brazilian
who is widely celebrated in his
native country as being the father of aviation--the Wright Brothers are
generally regarded as the first to
get humans off the ground.
The fascinating thing about the Wright brothers is that they were not
the idealistic dreamers you might expect them to be. They were serious,
studious, and determined to figure
things out. It wasn't that they were obsessed with the dream of soaring
high above the ground. They
were mechanically-inclined brothers who owned a bicycle shop, and they
couldn't forget the brief but exciting flight of a cheap toy airplane
they'd received as children. They were intrigued by the engineering
challenge.
Let's just say it--they were geeks. Good thing. Like geeks everywhere,
they dug in, immersing themselves in their research. By following their
hunch and testing the heck out of
it, they found the key component that enabled them to create that first
flying hunk of wood, fabric and wire
capable of carrying a man and--key point here--landing without
crashing.
The Wright brothers had the same access to records of tried and failed
attempts at flight as all other would-be aviators of the time. They
studied birds, they analyzed physics
properties, and they built wind tunnels--just like everyone else. Sure,
it was their dogged persistence
that led them to success, but there was something else that really
helped them nail it. They took one piece of the puzzle and worked
relentlessly to decipher it.
Instead of focusing on the force needed to lift the contraption, or the
engine required to power it, they zeroed in on the concept of control.
No sense having a great flight only to crash into the trees after a few
moments of jubilation. It was the issue of control that captured their
imagination and led to a design featuring both maneuverability and
safety.
But as focused as they were on directing the movement of the flying
machines, they failed to pay attention to the continued testing and
refinement of their ideas. They
got distracted by their efforts to control sales, and the research and
development division was left
flapping in the breeze. While the Wrights got caught up in patent
struggles and contracts, adventurers around the world were improving on
their
original design and savvy businessmen were building airplanes, airports
and flight schools. By 1912, Wilbur had died and Orville was losing
interest in flying.
Meanwhile, Santos-Dumont continued his passion for being airborne. He
is credited with launching the first public flight as well as designing
the first hydroplane. He zipped
around Europe, flying to fashionable restaurants and parking his plane
out front, right next to the tethered
horses. Where the Wrights were methodical and diligent, Santos-Dumont
was a flashy man about town known for his daring and his sense of
style. He cut a dashing figure and inspired everyone from fashion
designers to engineers. His friend, Louis Cartier, created the first
wristwatch for
him after Santos-Dumont expressed a need to keep track of time while
busily flying his plane.
Santos-Dumont didn't give a rip about patents. Instead of spending his
time and money on protecting his designs, he freely offered his ideas
to anyone interested in copying and improving them. He engaged in the
shareware
idea: take this, go forth and prosper. We've seen this approach in
software (Linux) and hybrid-electric cars (Hunter and Amory Lovins),
and though it rarely leads to great wealth for the creators, it
dramatically facilitates access and ingenuity.
After years of flying high, Santos-Dumont suffered from ill health and
committed suicide in 1932. I guess neither engineering talent nor
courageous individualism guarantees a
happy ending. The Wrights ran out of passion, and Santos-Dumont lost
his mojo. In their own ways, they
simply burned out.
It's interesting to think about how we need both the plodding
perseverance of the Wrights and the free-thinking generosity of
Santos-Dumont in every project we undertake. The greatest invention in
the world will never
capture the excitement of the population without those who are fearless
in their attempts to apply
it. Those who create the buzz are
admittedly standing on the shoulders of those who quietly developed the
technology, but we must have both to bring out the eagerness of the
early adopters and the cultural
change that hinges upon the mainstream acceptance of any new idea.
Bill Gates, that geek extraordinaire, has said: "The Wright brothers
created the single greatest cultural force since the invention of
writing. The airplane became the first world wide web, bringing people
of different languages, ideas and values together."
The next time you're slogging through security, struggling to put your
bag in the overhead compartment, or grousing about the leg room, pause
a moment to reflect on the enormity of human flight. Recognize it for
the magnificent achievement that it is,
and pay tribute to those who lived and died for its creation.
Appreciate the risk taking required in the last century to get you that
window seat.
Please remain seated until the aircraft comes to a complete stop, and
whisper words of gratitude to the Wright brothers for their
determination in discovering what it takes to make a
safe landing.
You may now move freely about the cabin. Please refrain from
complaining.
Thank you for flying for us, Wilbur and Orville.
About the Author
Maya Talisman Frost is a mind masseuse. Her work
has inspired thinkers in over 70 countries around the world. Her free
weekly ezine, the Friday Mind Massage, serves up a satisfying blend of
clarity, comfort and comic relief. To subscribe, visit
http://www.massageyourmind.com. |
