Marshall Ramsey

Meridian’s Al and Fred Key had a problem. The Great Depression had threatened Meridian’s airport and they weren’t going to allow it to close.

So they did what they did best: They took to the air. And didn’t come back down for 653 hours.

Flying a borrowed a Curtis Robin, they constantly fed it gasoline during their nonstop flight. The Robin’s name? Ole Miss. The Ole Miss now hangs in the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum on the Washington Mall.

Al and Fred took off on June 4, 1935 and landed 27 days later, breaking the endurance record. In the process, they traveled an estimated 52,320 miles and used more than 6,000 gallons of gas.

To service the engine and refuel it, they built a little walkway out to the engine. And to prevent the fuel from spilling (and catching fire) when they finished refueling the plane, they and A.D. Hunter invented special value. That valve, in modified form, is what the KC-135 tankers use to refuel planes today. So it’s very appropriate that those very tankers are based at that airfield Al and Fred successfully kept open — Key Field.

I look forward to speaking to my friends at Meridian Regional Airport tomorrow. I’ll talk to them about how the worst moments turn into the best. Just like what Al and Fred did so many years ago.

On paper, it’s a great story: Man from the Greatest Generation is reunited with the airplane (named after his girlfriend, who he has been married to for over 60 years) that he flew over the skies of Europe. In person, well, it was nothing short of amazing — and touching. Dan Fordice, Governor Kirk Fordice’s son, recently purchased a P-51D and had it painted like Cary Salter’s plane, Charlotte’s Chariot II to honor him. Today out at Hawkins Field in Jackson, Mr. and Mrs Salter and their daughters got to relive a piece of Mr. Salter’s past.

Cary Salter sees the P-51D Mustang for the first time as it taxied in from the runway at Hawkins Field in Jackson.

Dan Fordice pulls Charlotte’s Chariot II up to the hanger after buzzing the hanger twice (he made two fast passes down the runway) It took him 12 minutes to fly from Vickburg to Jackson.

Dan Fordice and Cary Salter stand on the wing of Charlotte’s Chariot II

In the foreground is a photo of Cary Salter as a 23-year-old pilot. In the background, 88-year-old pilot recreates the moment.

Cary Salter told me he didn’t know this picture existed until 1976. A friend had died and his widow had the negative in a box.

Cary Salter checks out the cockpit. Someone yelled, “was your GPS like that one?” Note the crosses on the side of the fuselage. Salter shot down two and a half aircraft in WW2, earning him the nickname from his friends , “half ace.”

Cary Salter tells WLBT’s Bert Case all about the day. (yes, Bert Case survived an encounter with the Fordice brothers).

P-51D Mustangs were the premier fighters in Europe during World War II. Their performance and long range allowed the allies to escort bombers deep into the heart of Germany — striking a fatal blow to German industry. This particular Mustang is immaculate. The engine only had 170 hours on it (the plane’s second engine, it was found in a warehouse after 40 years and installed in the plane.) And you could eat off the floor of the interior.

Friends and family admire the aircraft.

Dan Fordice has a photo of Charlotte Salter inside of the cockpit — just like Cary Salter did 65 years ago. My son and I got to meet Mrs. Salter — and he told me, “she looks just like her picture.”

There’s nothing that spreads joy, goodwill and glee quite like a traffic jam. You just want to reach out and hug the drivers of the cars around you. Puppies and kitties. Puppies and kitties.

Screw that.

You want to kill everyone.

If you had a James Bond car, you’d be lighting up the horizon with your missiles. You can hear the seconds ticking as you know you’re going to be late to work.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Son of a….

A vein pops out of your forehead.

Then you think of puppies and kittens. You try to lower your blood pressure until suddenly that butthead in front of you slams on her brakes. You swerve to the left and drive through some tire gators that an 18-wheeler left earlier. KATHUMP.

You get back into your lane.

You’re trapped like a rat. The traffic copter flies over, mocking you as you sit motionless in the fast lane. If only you had a Stinger missile.

Time to think of puppies and kittens again. Your mind wanders, “whose brother-in-law got the contract to design a CURVE in the interstate?!?!? And he must have designed it with a crayon.”

That second cup of coffee comes back to haunt you. “I HAVE TO PEE!” But like in space, no one can hear you scream in a traffic jam.

HOOONNNKKK!!!! Some jerkwad lays on his horn. Oh THAT will make things better.

Your blood pressure spikes again. Your forehead vein begins to pulse. But there’s hope. Blue lights flicker on the horizon. Suddenly a Nissan Altima tries to get into YOUR lane. NO WAY! (Of course, its lane is blocked by a firetruck.)

Civility is dead. Someone does a Lord of the Flies and blows a conch shell. A man in a BMW convertible has a pig head on a stick.

Interstate has ground to a halt. The heart of your commute is having a heart attack.

The Waterworks Curve officially needs a plumber.

The 1985 Sprayberry Yellow Jacket football team had a slogan “You Gotta Believe.” I think I even had the T-shirt.

It was one of the most important things I learned playing football (that and G.A.T.A., but I’ll tell you what that stands for in a minute.) But I didn’t really know what it meant to believe at 17.

Today it’s a fire that burns inside of me.

Belief. You have to believe. You have to believe in your dream, yourself, your life, you faith — in something bigger than yourself.

Because sometimes others won’t.

I used to be driven by wanting others to believe in me. I wanted to “please” my bosses and other people in my life. But I found out a long time ago (the hard way) that that doesn’t always workout. You have to be driven from inside. No one can steal that from out. You have the power to prove the nonbelievers wrong.

People who believe do great things. People who believe overcome obstacles. People who believe don’t quit.

I’m, by nature, a cynical guy. But you can’t steal my dream from me. Nope. Not going to happen. And if you think you can, watch me prove you wrong.

P.S. G.A.T.A. stands for “Get After Their @sses.” And it’s how you make what you believe come true.

Most of life’s lessons are in the movie Top Gun.

Seriously, Maverick and Goose were high-flying prophets from the 1980s. They roared around in their F-14, teaching scores of lifehacks.

“And if you screw up just this much, you’ll be flying a cargo plane full of rubber dog $#^& out of Hong Kong!” Guy who looks like Mr. Clean

OK, I admit, there were cheesy parts — It was the 1980s after all. (The 80’s had more cheese than Wisconsin.) But there’s one scene that speaks to me:

*Spoiler alert*

If you haven’t seen a nearly 30-year-old movie by now, seriously, I don’t think a spoiler alert will help you. But here it goes. Goose is dead (a tragedy of the likes not seen since *Another Spoiler alert* Bambi’s mom gets turned bumped off) and Maverick is completely messed up in the head. He graduates Top Gun on points alone but the smarmy Iceman wins. Boo! Suddenly the graduates are called to the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Enterprise (because apparently they ran out of pilots.) And international incident breaks out! The commies attack with their Mig-28s (that look like F-5 fighters) and Maverick has to go save the day. But he won’t engage. One F-14 is shot down and Iceman, a thin Val Kilmer, is in peril. Oh no! America is at risk.

And Maverick still won’t engage.

“Come on, Mav, do some of that pilot $#&^” Goose (who died because Maverick did some of that pilot $#&^.)

Then Maverick, who has an epiphany, looks at the late, great Goose’s dog tags and proceeds to kick Ruskie *$$. BOOM!

“Mustang, this is Voodoo 3. Remaining MiGs are bugging out.” Merlin (who wasn’t as cool as Goose and wasn’t married to pre-plastic surgery Meg Ryan)

The point is this: He engaged and ended up on the front page of every newspaper in the english-speaking world, even though the other side denied the incident.

I’m at a point in my life where my busyness is choking out my productivity. I know what I have to do. But I’m not getting it done. I’m like Maverick zooming around in his F-14 and not taking on the bad guys.

It’s not time to get busier; it’s time to get more productive. And their is a big difference between the two. I need my moment with Goose’s dog tags.

I feel the need for speed.

Before I lose that lovin’ feeling.

Walked over and looked out my old window. I stared at Capitol Towers’ parking garage one last time. I remembered the morning editorial meetings with Sid Salter, David Hampton, Joe White, John Hammack, Eric Stringfellow and Jim Ewing. They’re gone now. So is my desk. Only memories remained.

I walked over to my most recent office. It used to be Keith Warren’s office until I took it over a couple of years ago. It’s empty now, too. I packed up my last box and put it on the dolly. I’m now downstairs in one of the old V.I.P. Magazine offices — but only temporally. The Clarion-Ledger will be thankfully remodeled. By 2015, advertising and editorial will fill the space once filled by the newsroom. The dull, gray emptiness will finally be gone.

There have been a lot of changes at The Clarion-Ledger. You’ve seen some of them. I’ve seen even more. It has a new publisher named Jason Taylor who has a very strong reputation because of his community involvement and professional success. I hope he kicks butt here in Jackson like he did in Chattanooga. I can tell you that his energy is refreshing. It’s already making a big difference. I’m really pulling for the guy.

My role has changed a lot in the last few years. But every change has brought forward blessings. Sure, there have been some challenges but challenges blast you out of your comfort zone. After nearly 18 years in Mississippi, I’m thankful to still be able to bring you editorial cartoons. They’re what brought me to the dance. And I will always find a way to get them to you. Promise.

For now, I just unloaded the last box in my temporary home. It will be fun to see what the future brings. I just hope it brings me a cartoon idea for tomorrow.

Let me be very open and honest here: Being diagnosed with melanoma messed with my head. There really is nothing quite like having your own skin trying to kill you to cause you anxiety. But what really affected me was that I suddenly craved security.

Not good.

Because what I thought was security was nothing more than an illusion. I thought if I sat still and hunkered down, I’d be secure. I felt like I could rest on my past successes. Nothing could be farther from the truth! And I found out the hard way! Sitting still, ignoring the change going on around me caused chaos in my life. Now, looking back, I’ve discovered one truth from the last few years:

True security comes from successes brought on by embracing change.

I’m not saying all change is positive. Trust me, I have proof. And I couldn’t control what was happening around me. But what I could control was how I reacted to it.

As soon as my attitude changed, doors flew open. Seeing change as opportunity totally altered how I envisioned the world. And for the first time in years, cancer’s yoke of fear fell to the ground.

Today, I’m cleaning out my office at The Clarion-Ledger. No, I’m not leaving. I am, however, moving downstairs. The building, built in the mid 1990’s, is getting a much-needed makeover.

What a great metaphor for our lives. As much as it would be comfortable for the building to stay the same (I have a lot of great memories in this place), it wouldn’t reflect the needs of a changed world. Sure, there’ll be a few weeks of discomfort. It will be loud and messy. But the end result will be worth it.

I just need to remind myself to embrace change, not fight it. It’s my true path to future success.