by Tom Wacaster
My first experience of
flying commercially was in 1966. I was sworn into the United States Coast
Guard in downtown Dallas, Texas and whisked away to Dallas Love Field for the
fight to Oakland, California and nine weeks of boot camp. Four decades
ago you could have someone drop you off at the curb, walk to the ticket
counter, check in your luggage with no questions asked, and walk straight to
your gate. There were no X-ray machines, drug-sniffing dogs, or
someone asking you to “remove your shoes,” “hold out your hands,” “empty your
pockets,” or “take your laptop out of your briefcase” (of course, there were no
laptops back then either). Thirty minutes (or less) from the time you
arrived at the airport till you were seated on the plane was the norm.
Since 9/11 passengers
are advised to arrive at the airport two hours before departure for domestic
flights, and three hours for international flights. The discovery of a
plot to blow up American bound planes two weeks ago motivated airport
authorities to recommend arrival at the airport three hours in advance of
domestic flights, and four hours for international flights. So I followed
their advice, and arrived at DFW airport three hours ahead of departure time.
With the advent of electronic check in’s, I was through the line, past
security, and at may gate within 20 minutes after walking through the door of
terminal B at DFW. Surely that was a quirk! I must have
caught a lull in passenger influx.
Five days later it was
time to make my return trip out of Chicago O’Hare. I caught the 6:20 AM
bus out of Michigan City that would get me to the airport a full three hours
before departure time. Right on schedule, I climbed off the bus at 8:45
AM to fight the crowds at O’ Hare for a flight that was not scheduled to leave
until 12:30 PM. In less than 20 minutes I had arrived at my gate, along
with a small handful of “early bird” passengers who were determined to abide by
the new FAA’s three-hour advance arrival notice.
With three hours to
spare I strolled down the corridor to the various shops, and passed a book
store of considerable size. It was packed with passengers seeking for
something that might help them pass the time - and what better way to pass the
time than to read! After all, notable men have always recognized the
value of reading: “Reading maketh a full man” (Bacon). “If we
encountered a man of rare intellect, we should ask him what books he reads”
(Emerson). “If time is precious, no book that will not improve me by
repeated readings deserves to be read at all” (Thomas Carlyle).
Indeed, as one put it, “Reading is to the mind, what exercise is to the
body. As by the one, health is preserved, strengthened, and invigorated,
by the other, virtue (which is the health of the mind) is kept alive,
cherished, and confirmed.”
Unfortunately, much of
what is read falls into the category of non-essential and unprofitable
reading. If what is sold in airport book stores is any representation of
what modern day travelers are reading, there is much to be desired.
Solomon manifested his God-given wisdom when he declared that “of making many
books there is no end.” And, we might add, many of those
books are not fit for human consumption. Some books should carry a
warning label: “Reading of the material contained herein is hazardous to your
soul.” There is a book, however, that stands head and shoulders above ALL
books. Its message is heavenly, its contents significant, its Author all
knowing and all powerful, and its benefit for you personally is beyond
all description. We are speaking, of course, about the Bible.
Here is a book that is inspired, provides nourishment for the soul, a compass
for life, and hope for the hereafter. This is why we are instructed
to “study” and “read” this Book of books. I don’t know how much
time you may spend in reading, or what kinds of material you read. But if
you are not reading the Bible on a daily basis, then you are either not reading
enough, or you are reading the wrong kind of material.
Now, here is the truly
disappointing thing about my three hours at O’ Hare. I did not see a
single Bible on the shelves of that store, or any other store in that
terminal. There were books on the occult, mystic magic, the new age
movement, and even the Koran. But not one single copy of a Bible could be
found. There were magazines to tempt the sensual pleasures, newspapers
that will give you the “truth” on extraterrestrial beings in New Mexico, and “how
to” books on desert survival or how to become a contestant on a game show, but
no Bible.
After less than five
minutes perusing the shelves, I decided that my time could be used more
profitably by going to my gate and reading from my Bible. For the next
two hours I feasted upon the word of God, reminded myself of His great love for
me, and read of that heavenly home that awaits the faithful when this life is
over. Truly, I can’t think of a better way to have spent three hours at O’Hare.