posted Feb 10, 2012 4:04 PM by Jon Rumfelt
IFR is defined in the FAA as "Rules and regulations established by the FAA to govern flight under conditions in which flight by outside visual reference is not safe. IFR flight depends upon flying by reference to instruments in the flight deck, and navigation is accomplished by reference to electronic signals." It is commonly used in bad weather or at night when you can't see the ground.
When flying in IFR conditions, a pilot must trust his/her instruments above all else they feel or think they see. I've flown in IFR conditions with an experienced pilot. When we went into the cloud, I actually became scared, lost my internal direction, and actually thought the aircraft started to dive. It wasn't until we cleared the cloud that I saw other clouds and regained my bearing. As an aspiring pilot, IFR can be scary simply because my brain will tell me to turn the plane based on what I feel and see. If I can't see, my brain takes inputs from my other senses as a higher priority.
Try standing on one leg with your eyes open, you can hold the position for quite some time. Now try again, but this time close your eyes. You will find you will wobble alot as your brain no longer has visual ques from your eyes and must now go on your inner ear and attempt to remain perpendicular to the floor as determined by the feelings your feet try to interpret. You are now standing in IFR conditions! Your brain will over compensate all the inputs from the other operational sensory organs. With no visual que, your brain will take their word for it and tell you to compensate incorrectly. You will fail much faster than if you had your eyes open.
In the cockpit, there is help for the blind pilot. Instrumentation such as the horizon indicator, compass, altimeter, and the navigation (VOR, DME, or GPS) which can tell them which heading to maintain. But they have to force their brain to ignore their body's senses and use the visual ques from instrumentation which can see through the night and weather. As long as they can maintain this trust, they will fly straight and level through the blindness instead of crashing.
YouTube Video IFR Mayday recording.In this video, an ATC recording of a man flying blind is enhanced by a virtual recreation of the circumstances. You can hear the panic in his voice, almost to the point that you would think he's joking. This is in fact a real Air Traffic Control recording of a close call! The pilot is calling out for help and ATC, who has a much bigger picture, was able to walk him through preventing a crash and most likely, at least one death.
How many times have we as humans not been able to see the road ahead of us? Your job is ending, or moving you someplace new. New leadership in your life isn't what you had imagined. The budget is getting tight and you don't have a plan. The possibilities are endless. But no matter what it is, you still can't see where you will be in a year, month, or even a week. You are flying blind! You start to go off of other inputs; the economy, politics, the job market, rumors, etc. Each of these are amplified because you have lost vision. It's scary outside because all you see is darkness, or clouds, and you feel urges to adjust your heading because you feel like you are spiraling down with no way to recover.
For those who are not Christians, there is always the Christ (and at this very moment I saw ATC Always The Christ!!) YOU can call out to ATC, who has a much bigger picture, and He can help prevent a crash, or rash, decision that could prevent at least one death.
For the Christian, there are tools in the cockpit of your soul which can give you orientation, direction, and assurance that you are on the right path. You need to listen to your spiritual input from Holy Spirit, who can see through the clouds and darkness, and read the instrumentation placed in the Bible, as well as call out to ATC for updates beyond your sight.
In either case, resist the brain's demands to change the priority of the senses, and Trust your instrumentation and radio, they can save your life, as well as those around you who may be flying as passengers.
"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 5:12
Fix your eyes on Christ, the navigation and instrumentation of our faith!!
God Bless Jon |
posted Nov 23, 2011 11:42 PM by Jon Rumfelt
If that's spelled right, anyway!
I found a great recipe for grilling shrimp. So because I'm learning how to grill, I decided to give it a shot. And I have to say, I'm learning quite well! It was also the first time I've cooked with alcohol. Granted, it's dry cheri, but still.
I bought the colossal shrimp, while they are mostly de-veined, I have to peel the legs off. That was the first time I've had to do that, and in the back of my head I was picturing all the ghost shrimp I've owned!! I got the hang of it by the end of the bag. Then I cleaned them and blot dried them.
Now, since I'm new to cooking, I'm still getting used to all the ingredients and measures and what not. So when I get ready to mix the marinade, I set each of the ingredients in front of me, in order of addition, and meticulously measure each. I sat down after putting the marinading shrimp in the fridge and asked Sarah "When will cooking become less stressful?" She just laughed at me.
The recipe called for removing the shrimp and boiling the sauce into a caramel sauce which is then basted over the grilling shrimp. This called for some perfect timing of making sure the grill is completely pre-heated just as the marinade is ready on the stove. I think I got lucky, but I'll know the next time I try it. That and I used the indoor grill, which was next to the stove.
The timing for flipping the shrimp called for two minutes on each side. It just so happened that the size of the grill allowed me to add all the shrimp, then baste each one, and two minutes would be up on the first shrimp. So I flip them, baste, and viola! done! I have to say that the first shrimp I turned over, my mouth watered! I think I actually verbalized my excitement! Here they are on the grill:
I did accidentally add too much sesame seed to the marinade, but it worked.
Once completed, I plated the shrimp and sprinkled the final toppings, split a lemon four ways and displayed it just as our friends were coming in the door. It was PERFECT! Here's the final product for our guests:
Can you say, "Oh My GOD Mate?"
There was this sweet almost candy taste as you bit into them, and the smell just sent it over the top! Even though there was Thai Chili Sauce in the marinade and basting sauce, they weren't hot in the slightest, which made this a perfect appetizer that was finger licking good!
I can't wait to give it another try on Thanksgiving for an appetizer, and again when the college kids come over on Sunday.
I'll ask them to come post how it tastes. I'm getting closer to actually feeling qualified to wear my "Grill Sargent" apron.
Jon |
posted Oct 27, 2011 7:23 PM by Jon Rumfelt
Today was parent teacher conferences for Paige and Gabriel! As expected, Paige and Gabe are both excellent readers and Paige's teacher said she needs to be a writer, so we'll be creating a section on this site for her titled "My Paige" where she can display her writing abilities for all to see. Please check out her posts and comment on them for constructive criticism and praise. For Gabe, he needs to work on his hand writing skills as he follows after his dad, whom Grandma said could write prescriptions! Both have their areas of extreme awesomeness in school, but the areas they need work on... well we are going to be increasing the heat in those areas!! They will be quized and quized until they know their times tables and story retention (respectfully).
Speaking of grilling... I cooked dinner tonight on the new indoor grill! From defrost to table, was all on me! I think it was the first meal that was completely on my shoulders. Made some nicely cooked chicken breasts with the Nicoise Rub I made for the steaks a few weeks back. They blackened nicely and had a salty crunch when bit into, and the pepper flakes were just enough spice to crave more. On the side, fries. For the two extreme picky eaters I made hot dogs on the same indoor grill.
I have to say, I'm becoming quite a culinary enthusiast! Something completely different from 20 years ago when Uncle Jim tried to teach me how to make a grilled cheese sandwich and I cried and said "NO! I'm NOT a cook!"
Sorry, I forgot to take pictures, I'll remember next time. |
posted Oct 22, 2011 6:01 PM by Jon Rumfelt
Michael and I were awarded our Red Belts today in Tai Kwon Do. Now when we test, we'll have three forms, three one steps, sparring, and finally, breaking boards!!! I'm excited to see how Michael learns the new form and one steps, but I'm more concerned about the board breaking. I've seen how easy people make breaking boards look, but I have to tell you, I've held these boards during a test and I've seen toes get broken and hands bruised. We'll have to learn perfect form, and we'll have to be ready for injuries.
We have dinner tonight with friends. One of which was in the room and watched Paige come into this world at the hospital. The other I had the privilege of picking up from the airport when he arrived in Alaska for Master's Commission. So they are cooking the main meal and Sarah and I are bringing the desert. So I looked up a cool recipe for the BBQ grill and using deserts. So I cored apples, filled it with apricot jam, brown sugar, and finally butter. Then fired up the grill and dropped Jack Daniels hickory on the coals. Once up to temp, I put the apples in the grill and left them alone. I was supposed to keep them smoking for at least an hour, but I couldn't keep the temperature down and they cooked more than they smoked. Since I made 5, one was for taste testing and was a sacrificial lamb. All I can say is WOW, I've never cut an apple with a fork, but this was incredible! My first desert, and my first desert on the grill, Tim and Jamie are going to LOVE it!!
Prepared
And Cooked!
Have a cool desert I could try on the grill? Leave a comment with your recipe and I'll give it a shot. |
posted Oct 18, 2011 2:50 PM by Jon Rumfelt
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updated Oct 18, 2011 2:50 PM
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(Originally Posted on Friday, December 24, 2010 at 11:56pm)
Ever since I can remember, the Rumfelt Christmas has been a big event. The day is filled with family from baby to senior citizen, sitting on laps, talking on the phone, in and out of the house like a busy train station. On the stove Grandma is cooking various foods, both American foods as well as traditional Polish foods. In the day, Grandma Bushie would man a few pots and pans to make perogi, gwumki, and stuffed cabbage. There were always Polish sausages being boiled and somehow Grandma was able to keep a mental note of what was in each perogi and label it with toothpicks and sticky notes. The kitchen table looked like the side of the road during an election, with little picket signs everywhere! No one would walk away hungry from a Rumfelt Christmas. After dinner, the table would be cleared, the smokers would respectfully leave the house to brave the wet winter air. The kids would receive their bags of goodies that grandma made. At one Christmas, I remember at least 10 of those bags! Candy, small toys and puzzles, and all things needed to keep the kids out of the adults hair as they prepare for battle at the kitchen table. The food would need to settle before presents could be opened, and that was done over a few rounds of Bunko at the table. You had to watch out for Grandma Bushie, she could take the bank! She would sit in the corner with her little innocent weathered old woman face. But sitting on top of that head of hers, hidden in the Polish hair, were two horns sharp as nails. Sure, she would laugh, and yell just as loud as the four generations gathered at the table, but she was out for blood! Her bounty? This was a gambling man’s game, and she wanted the gold! Many times, she would take the pot; in turn, she would graciously give the coins to her loved great grandchildren. Great Grandma Bushie passed away nearly 10 years ago on her 83rd birthday, with a smile on her face. She will be missed. Before and after the main event, Grandpa Hank would be nestled down in his “Fox Hole” as we called it. A very deep impression he made on the couch, and before the couch was the worn out chair in the corner. On Christmas eve, he would could be found in the chair, or on the porch. His rustic deep german vocal chords stuttered and slurred words together and made it difficult to understand him. That is, until he would yell at the kids that he couldn’t hear the TV! Grandma would be the first to defend us kids and kick him to the porch. I remember a few years I went out on the porch with him, handing him our traditional bowl of popcorn. Of all the years he was in the Rumfelt clan, he physically handed me one present. A pocket knife. I kept that pocket knife for years and to this day I think I was the only grandkid to get a present FROM Grandpa Hank. I knew under his grumpy demeanor he loved me. He passed away just over a year ago, and his part of the Rumfelt Christmas will be missed. In the living room the Christmas Tree completely decorated and lit up would be dwarfed by the surrounding presents. Each aunt and uncle going bankrupt to buy presents for everyone. Once everyone was in place, foot stomps would be heard coming down the stairs. I could tell those massive boots anywhere! They belonged to my Dad. He would yell “HO HO HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS” and when he came into view, his traditional black work boots, dark blue work pants, and black T-shirt were accessorized by a red and white Santa hat often on top of a baseball cap atop his head. “Uncle Gregg” and “Uncle Bubba” the kids would yell, all the while I would stare at him. He would take his place, usually next to Grandma Bushie, and THEN the presents could be opened. Each Rumfelt sibling took their turn handing out presents to their nieces and nephews. Large boxes of wonderfully wrapped presents would give way to a snow storm of paper falling from the ceiling. I loved getting presents from my aunts and uncles, but the two I looked forward to the most, and in this order, were from Grandma Bushie, and my Dad. Grandma Bushie could be considered a cheat, she didn’t go to Toy’s R Us or even to the super market. No, her Christmas shopping consisted of going to the bank. You knew, before you set foot in the same county as her present, that it was going to be money. But you didn’t know how much it was going to be. You see, Grandma Bushie gifted on a curve. The oldest got the most, and proportionately decreasing to the youngest. When I was the youngest child, I was given between $2 and $10. But when I graduated to the oldest great grandchild, and the last year I was with the Rumfelts for Christmas, she blew me away with a one hundred dollar bill! She knew money was going to put a huge smile on our faces, and a big kiss on her 80 year old cheek. She loved kisses and hugs, and she would grab tight to your hand with one of hers, rubbing your hand with her free one and looking deep into your eyes would encourage you to “Buy something nice!” in a VERY Polish accent. Now my Dad. He didn’t go buy rolls of wrapping paper, he said it was a waste of money. Instead, he collected the Sunday comics from the year, and wrapped all his presents in colorful newspaper that was actually hard to open. One year he wrapped my Aunt Glynis’ presents in duct tape and comics!!! Took her FOREVER to open them. My Dad’s presents to me were special. While as a kid I never really appreciated them, I now look back and see the sacrifice he made to give me something from his heart. My Dad gave two things to every event, Christmas included. The first is his humor. He could make Hitler laugh if given the chance, and as a result was the cornerstone of every event. Even if he didn’t say much, people wanted him there. He set the mood, even when he didn’t set it. He set a positive atmosphere, even if he wasn’t feeling good. And he was the child’s play toy as they loved hanging from his huge bicepts. The second was his security. No matter the event, a Rumfelt attracts danger! And a collection of Rumfelts collects a war of danger. Whether internally, or externally, something bad was inevitable at almost every Rumfelt event. But my dad would stand up, with both feet on the ground, his 6’4 300lb frame would stand between you and danger, and danger would run away. It has been a long time since I was a guest to my Dad’s presence at a Rumfelt Christmas party. But I still, without fail, call on Christmas day to hear his voice and the words I live for “I’m so proud of you Jonathan.” It was better than anything he could wrap with the comics, but he would give me a joke or three over the phone. This is the first year I won’t hear those words from him. And I cry writing that. This Chrismas, when I call the Rumfelts, I know that something is missing there as it is here. My heart yearns to say something comforting, my brain confused that I won’t hear him. I know my family is struggling to even imagine a Christmas without “Bubba Claus” and his santa hat. Who will set the mood? Who will stand up securely? And who will start the wrapping paper fight!? It will be tough, but Christmas comes and goes even when those we love are not present. This Christmas, we celebrate the birth of Jesus without regret for omitting them. We will laugh at the year’s humors, and we will cry at the absence of our heroes. For my family, I am placing a chair in the corner for those I love that are no longer here to celebrate. A chair of honor that no one will be able to sit in; I’ll raise a glass to my Dad for his love for me to his last breath; to my Grandpa Hank for sacrificing a normal life to spend with ours!!; and to my Great Grandma Bernice (bushie) for her unfailing wisdom and kisses. A new tradition to be started in the shadow of great experiences. |
posted Oct 18, 2011 2:48 PM by Jon Rumfelt
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updated Oct 18, 2011 2:48 PM
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(Originally Posted Wednesday, February 17, 2010 at 11:32pm)
My Dad looked into my eyes three times and smiled. I showed him how Sarah and I say I love you without saying a word. We squeeze three times the other persons hand and return four. As I told him he squeazed my hand then ten seconds later he squeazed two times. I know he was trying.
My Dad was never very religious in his life, but the family has been catholic forever. Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, so my Dad’s oldest sister and youngest brother went to mass and returned with a small container of ash. A chaplain came by and showed my Aunt how to administer the ash. We all new Dad would like the blessing, and I was in no position to argue, I wanted to let the family have closure.
In the evening, we went to the video store and picked up a few videos to help us through the night, we were watching one when Aunt Glynis said to turn it off, and we need to do the ash blessing. When we all stood around my Dad’s bed, Aunt Glynis began showing us the signs Dad was exhibiting that indicated death was near. I’m not going to describe it here because I can barely think, and while the image will remain in my head, I don’t think it needs to be described in great detail here. I also refused to take any pictures of him, I want to remember my Dad as the gentle giant he was.
They asked me to say the catholic prayer and draw a cross on his forehead with the ash. As soon as I did, I prayed as well while my Grandma and Aunts did their hails. As soon as we were finished, the last hours turned into the last minutes. His sudden surge was to look around, squeeze my hand, then squeeze Grandma’s hand, gave a smile, and over the next few minutes, his minutes turned to moments. He was holding on for his little brother, my Uncle Kevin. He wasn’t at the bed side more than a minute when dad took his last breath. I was too emotional to try and sense the presence of God, and the floodgates opened on all of us.
I eventually prayed, and in my prayer I asked God to give us a supernatural peace. Just a few seconds later my Aunt Gail said she felt at peace, and asked if that was selfish. I was able to explain to her that it is most definitely not selfish, Dad would not want any of us to suffer, and we need to realize he is in a better place.
That was at 11:42pm.
The nurse came a few hours later from across the City, and shortly after the Funeral Home came to take his body. As we said our last goodbyes in “Grandmas Kitchen,” a popular Rumfelt eatery, I asked the gentlemen from the funeral home to do a favor for us while they left.
“A soldier receives a 21 gun solute as he leaves, a Rumfelt waves and honks the horn.” – Jon
As the truck with his body pulled out of the driveway, they honked the horn and we waved. All of us cried. At the corner they honked again, and my knees buckled as I broke down in the arms of Sarah.
We went back inside and for the first time in my life, the Rumfelt house was quiet. We sat in the living room in silence, then whispers. An hour later we all decided to get some sleep. It was 4:30 am, and none of us could keep our eyes open. This would be the first night everyone slept, the watchmen could rest, and rest we did.
This morning we are trying to arrange the funeral, and deal with all the administrative complexities related to death. As soon as we have the details of the wake, I will post address and phone for anyone wanting to send flowers.
Thank you for your prayers, he will be missed sorely.
The plan now is to respect his wishes and have him cremated. I suggested we pick up some hourglass kits and ask to have his ashes placed inside. Dad was the kind of person who would not want to be a piece on the wall you stare at, but something that will remind you of him. Dad was the life of the family, the comedian, and the timepiece. If Dad said he would be there, he would be there, and he would come bringing jokes and drinks. At the risk of a bad pun, I suggested the hourglass so we could “spend some time with” him and his memories. He left a legacy, stories that will make you laugh and cry, lessons learned and lessons taught, inspiration and correction. It’s our job to pass it on.
Love you Dad |
posted Oct 18, 2011 2:42 PM by Jon Rumfelt
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updated Oct 18, 2011 2:42 PM
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(Originally posted Tuesday, February 16, 2010 at 1:27pm) We arrived at the Rumfelt house with open arms and tight hugs, but the tears didn’t start until I saw him. My Dad went into the hospital nov 24th and came home Friday February 12 after he specificly stated he didn’t want to die in the hospital. I have never seen my dad in two states, one is crying, the other is helpless. He was a firm believer in a man not crying, and that a man should never be a burden on anyone. Today I saw him in both states. As I walked into the room my brain was trying to imagine what I’d see; I knew he had lost some weight from his over 300 lb frame. My heart was racing faster than a shooting star, my emotions were at the brink of exploding like a nuclear bomb, and my eyes teared up like a windshield in a down poor. My Dad, whom I have always compared to a brick wall linesman, lay in bed unable to hold his head or arms up, frail and near weightless his once 300 lb frame was nowhere to be found. Instead of that big man I could never push over, the man who lifted push lawn mowers with one hand palmed over the cowling, and pushed the Ranchero back on the jackstand preventing it from falling over, and other feats of strength, there lay a dying man who needed help to turn his head.
I knew he would never allow this to happen on purpose, but I approached him regardless of whether or not he felt embaressed. “God help me do this” I muttered under my breath as I held his limp hand, put my hand on his hatless head, and looked into his empty eyes. It took me a second, but I finally forced out like your first I love you the words that broke everyone to tears; “I’m here Dad!”
His eyes were open in sunken sockets, but rolled back like he was sleeping, his mouth hangs slightly open with a drooping left corner. I could see one of his remaining teeth behind his dry lips, and his nose very sharply defined. His jaw bones visible for the first time in my life. A trimmed mustache replaced the iconic gotee that had made home his chin for decades. Even his head of remaining hair closely followed the contour of his skull.
But all of that instantly was replaced by an appearence of him in my memory when he raised his eyebrow at my presence; he heard his only son's voice. His breathing suddenly icreased, his face began to make motions, and frustratedly he fought his body to communicate with me without words.
I knew I didn’t have much time, I couldn’t wait for personal alone time, I had to act now! God wispered into my ear what I had asked Him to tell my dad and I spoke, “Dad, there is nothing in your life that you have done that God didn’t love you. Call to Him, say ‘take my pain God’ and He will hear you even if we can’t. Call to Him for peace, and it will come.”
A few seconds later, he squeased my hand, raised his eyebrows, and turned his head slightly. Everyone who has been with him these last few days said that’s how he says he understands, he was acknowledging my request.
How do you tell a man who can’t talk that he needs to confess his sins and accept Jesus into his heart? I think it arrogant that people think a long and drawn out process is between death and salvation. Instead, I feel Jesus has made a place in heaven for those who call out in their last hours.
I feel this day was the day grace sealed my dads place in the Lambs Book of Life.
After the nurse came to clean him up. He was opening his eyes and looking around. Everyone called for me and Sarah and again we asured him to pray “in Jesus name, all pain go away” and when his eyes met mine, we could see tears begin to form in his eye. He began to lift his arms and head, but gravity had no compasion for his desire to hug me. After two attempts, I picked up his hand and placed it on my face when he immediately squeezed my tear soaked cheek, raised an eyebrow, and smiled! Then he winked at Sarah and smiled again. I knew he was telling us he loves us.
I never, before this moment, could have imagined in my nightmares how hard it would be to lose my father. And never in my wildest dreams in life would I have thought I would have been graced with leading my Dad to call out to God for peace and salvation.
I’m a mess, but I need to thank everyone who has prayed for me, my wife, my family, and my father and his salvation. He will thank you in person when we meet him there!
I firmly believe I was victorious and God will take him home!!!
I will post again tomorrow with a status update. We plan to show the videos and pictures up on the screen.
Love, jon and Sarah. |
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