North to California?

Got to thinking about "Wrong Way Corrigan" this week. Remember him? Probably not! Iris "never heard of him" and she's in early seventies. Near as I recall, Corrigan had generated nationwide publicity regarding a daring non-stop solo flight diagonally across the United States from the northeast coast to the southwest coast. This was prior to WW II, before reliable shortwave radio and radar. He took off in his small plane with crowds cheering but then nobody heard anything about him … until he landed in Ireland. Swore up and down he was surprised as everyone else. Had no idea how such a thing could have happened.

Corrigan's questionable directional confusion was a lot of fun, although somewhat dangerous; but there are many folks out there who actually do not know north from south or east from west. Most of those types within my acquaintance do not seem overly concerned about their lack of directional sense. In fact, there are a couple of those in my very own personal family and that's difficult to understand because I am the exact opposite. Have offered to conduct classes on map reading and "orientation" but they've politely declined to sign up.

Knowing the directions and being absolutely oriented to where on earth I am is a necessity for stress-free mental health. Am uncomfortable without that knowledge at all times and in all places. If that is a professionally recognized type of psychosis, then I'm one of those who have it. On airline flights around North America, the West Indies, as well as to Asia and Europe, have been surprisingly successful in getting navigators to give me checkpoints or roughed in flight lines on my always-handy maps (before 9/11). A "Korean Air" navigator even gave me his extra copy of our exact route from Los Angeles to Seoul.

A night flight from Miami to Jamaica with "The Sewing Club" went well with the co-pilot giving geographic details as we flew south over Havana, Cuba. Said that large red glow was Castro smoking a cigar; however, the circling approach at Montego Bay left me completely lost. In our hotel, I was tense and couldn't sleep. It was late and First Wife Iris thought I could ask someone in the morning, "Which way is north?" It seemed a bit unkind when she suggested, "Sunrise might be a really good clue."

Couldn't wait that long. Poured a little coconut juice over rum-on-the-rocks and sat on the balcony to gaze at the darkened sky. Aha! Soon located the Big Dipper pointing to the North Star and problem was instantly solved. Relaxed, polished off the exotic sippypoo, then slept like a baby.

The complete opposite of people like me must include a lady written up in last Sunday's paper, the one who made me recall Wrong Way Corrigan. Estafania Menendez has lived in the United States for six years but now she's facing unwanted deportation to her native Argentina by Federal Court in Helena. The lady recently decided to make the drive from Montana back down to California. OH DARN! She ended up in Canada, a violation of immigration laws covering her situation. Estafania told the Judge, "I'm bad with directions."

If that unlucky lady is forgiven and allowed to stay in America, maybe she would be interested in signing up for my class in map reading and orientation. I've been ready for years to teach those things … to somebody.

G. George Ostrom is a Kalispell resident and a national-award winning Hungry Horse News columnist.