This one is a bit long so please bear with me. Late last night my co-pilot and closest friend Steve Hecht passed away after a courageous battle with cancer. Steve was the best friend anyone could ever have – or deserve for that matter. We met near the end of my flight training in 2004. He had just gotten his pilot’s license and was looking for someone to fly with. From 2004 through last year, we flew together every Sunday morning we could – trusting each other with our lives. When the cancer took him out of the cockpit, we changed to hangar flying over coffee every Sunday morning. We were natural friends – sharing similar passions – flying, photography, friends and family. He was intensely proud of his boys – Matt and Mitch and doted on his sweet granddaughters. But of course, his first love was Robi – they traveled the world together but Steve was just as happy to spend the day running errands with her which always included going to what he called the “food store.” Steve would do anything for a friend in need or family member. Oddly enough, we shared the same birthday – June 22. Until we met I’d never known anyone who shared my birthday.
Over the years we flew all over the southeast to just about every airport in North Carolina, many in South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Virginia, and West Virginia. We encountered numerous hazards along the way but were secure in the knowledge that having two cautious flyers in the cockpit together ensured sound decision making so we always made it home safe to our families. My most memorable flight with Steve was a trip we made to the mecca of pilots – Kitty Hawk, NC. We landed on a small runway just yards from where Orville and Wilbur first flew their Wright Flyer (the airport is aptly named KFFA – First Flight Airport). After touring the memorial and museum, we flew home as dusk gave way to a starry night – just a beautiful day/night in the air and on the ground.
While in the air together we remarked often how amazing it was to us that “they” allowed us to get in the cockpit and pilot a plane. The fools! Don’t they know we have no business being given the keys to an airplane? Every flight was incredible to us, regardless of length. Every lap in the pattern or mile of a cross-country – our time in the air together was pure joy. I will not experience that joy the same way again as my friend has “shuffled off this mortal coil.” Steve will be with me though with every landing I attempt, photo I take, coffee I share, friend I make. Cancer took him away and cruelly did so without us having a proper goodbye. I miss you already my dear, dear friend – Godspeed.
Allow me to close by sharing Gary Claude Stoker’s poem in Steve’s honor –
Impressions of a Pilot
Flight is freedom in its purest form,
To dance with the clouds which follow a storm;
To dance with the clouds which follow a storm;
To roll and glide, to wheel and spin,
To feel the joy that swells within;
To feel the joy that swells within;
To leave the earth with its troubles and fly,
And know the warmth of a clear spring sky;
And know the warmth of a clear spring sky;
Then back to earth at the end of a day,
Released from the tensions which melted away.
Released from the tensions which melted away.
Should my end come while I am in flight,
Whether brightest day or darkest night;
Whether brightest day or darkest night;
Spare me your pity and shrug off the pain,
Secure in the knowledge that I'd do it again;
Secure in the knowledge that I'd do it again;
For each of us is created to die,
And within me I know,
And within me I know,
I was born to fly.
Below are a few pictures we took of our adventures together. Because of our affiliation with a local photography education group, we were offered the chance to be official photographers for the US Women’s Amateur Golf Tournament a few years ago. It was a great experience for us both. I took a couple of pictures of Steve in action during the tourney – he loved photography and approached it like everything else he did – all in, and working for perfection.
Rest in peace my friend. I miss you dearly.
