This piece originally ran in the February 2023 issue of EAA Sport Aviation magazine.

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to share with you a recent life experience. I just went through a serious heart operation — a mitral valve replacement. For any person, this is a major operation. The fact is, I was dying. Now, I am very much living. Undergoing such an event leads even the most hardened person to go to that quiet place we all have and do some deep thinking. When I went to that place, I discovered that being 81 years of age is the best time of my whole life. You may question this thinking, but let me say why I feel this way. I find that age allows us to be honest in our look back through time. As a 5-year-old kindergarten boy sitting in those little chairs by a little table, I had a strong desire to fly. As time went on, I was lucky enough to do just that — in the U.S. Navy as an airborne radar operator in an early warning squadron and with TWA as a pilot for 32 years. At 81 years of age, I do not have any career choices to make. I’ve already lived them. And I do not have to worry about long-term consequences.

Nowadays, it’s just me and my little ultralight. Even though it’s just a simple ultralight, my main question to the talented medical professionals was, “How will this surgery affect my flying?” At any point, we could be grounded. Flying my ultralight frees me from many physical limitations. That being said, it does not excuse us from our responsibilities to preflight ourselves and our aircraft. All the doctors gave the same precautionary instructions: “Give yourself a chance to heal.” So, I was a good boy and did just that.

How did I know that before the surgery I was flying into a blind canyon? It was EAA AirVenture Oshkosh 2022 that opened my eyes. Being blessed with press credentials and being excited about covering the Ultralights area, I was given good parking privileges down by the Ultralight Barn. I was able to walk only about a hundred feet before I would have to stop and catch my breath. It took me several minutes to reach the Quicksilver booth where Bever and his son, Ken, had a chair for me. I stayed in the booth throughout the day because I was unable to walk down the line to say hello to the many other dealers and friends whom I have known for years. In the evening, Bever would give me a ride in his truck back to the parking lot. I had planned to attend the show Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, but I was only able to attend on Thursday and Friday.

Before I go on, I would like to share some of my observations and feelings. One has to be in attendance to experience the electrifying atmosphere that can only be experienced at AirVenture. Despite being confined to a chair, I experienced the bonding that others passed on to me and, in my own way, I passed on to others. As the saying goes, the proof is in the pudding. Some 650,000 people came to this year’s AirVenture. Many of those attending were families with young children. It is the young who will replace us seniors and provide EAA with continued longevity.

There is another important note to make about AirVenture and EAA. EAA has been instrumental in supporting many different kinds of aviation. There are homebuilts, warbirds, aerobatic aircraft, antiques and classics, and modern military and civilian aircraft. For example, this year was the 40th year of FAA Part 103, the regulation created in 1982. This regulation provides for operating rules and defines what qualifies as an ultralight. I can recall when this form of flight was looked down upon. Although it took a while, ultralight flight is now gaining wider acceptance. I can remember coming home from a TWA trip as a first officer on the Boeing 747 and going to the local airport and flying my ultralight. And I am aware that more and more rated fellow pilots are inquiring about the experience of pure simple flight.

On August 20, 2022, I found myself lying on the operating table being prepped for this major surgery. The room was rather cold. Looking around, I could see some of the instruments the surgeon would be using. It reminded me of people looking in the cockpit of various aircraft and saying, “I sure hope you know what all those buttons and dials are for.” I silently was thinking the same thoughts about the doctor. Joking somewhat with my anesthesiologist and just making small talk, I requested that she tell me when she would be starting the sleepy juice. She said she would have me count to 10, but I would not even remember counting. She was correct.

The surgery went fine, and after a five-day hospital stay, I was released to go home. I was given strict instructions that included everything from no driving to no flying. I was not supposed to push, pull, or lift anything. I even was prescribed a way to dress, including having help putting on my socks. The hardest part was the no driving and no flying, which was meant to give my chest bone a chance to adequately mend for six to eight weeks. Looking back, the time went fast, but waiting for the weeks to pass seemed like an eternity. Sitting in the passenger seat while my wife drove the car was difficult. Going to the hangar and just sitting in my ultralight brought on emotional moments.

After six weeks, I humbly asked my wife for the car keys. I was nice, and she relented. Being able to drive allowed me to make several trips to my hangar all by myself. I was free to sit in my little aircraft for as long as I wanted. Sitting in the airplane or just sitting and looking at it helped me. I would think through my thoughts on how to fly it. I did this with the hangar doors almost fully closed. I didn’t want anyone to notice my behavior because I could have been making engine noises.

With the approaching seven-week mark, I would remind myself of the often quoted six- to eight-week rehab time period. I felt I was being a good boy and seven weeks would be a good compromise. I asked a good friend if he would meet me at the airport the next morning so he could help with the hangar doors, and give me a pull on the recoil starter. Early morning flights are my preference because that is usually a calm time for my little Quicksilver.

The seventh week date happened to come on October 7, 2022, which was 49 days from the surgery. Meeting my friend at the Avon Park airport at 6:45 a.m., with my preflight all complete and the cameras mounted, we rolled the Quick out of the hangar. Strapping myself in and making sure my radio was all set, I asked Jeff to give my aircraft three shots of prime and pull the starter. It fired right off. I announced my intention to taxi to Runway 5. Not having nose wheel steering requires a little more power that puts a blast of air over the rudder. This along with having individual Black Max brakes allows for good taxi controllability.

Holding short of Runway 5 I had a little conversation with my maker and then announced my intention to take off on Runway 5 and that I would be staying in the pattern. As I lined up, the sun was starting to make its presence felt. With a final check of the cylinder head temperatures and exhaust gas temperature, I advanced the throttle and began the takeoff roll. I was off the ground and into the air. Seeing the sunrise just breaking over the horizon from an open ultralight is breathtaking. My eyes were watery — and it came from emotion more so than the wind in my face. For this 81-year-old — who just seven weeks prior was lying on an operating table undergoing major surgery — to be experiencing these sights, sounds, and emotions is a blessing. I stayed mostly in the pattern, executing several stop-and-goes. I was pleasantly surprised that I had not lost my touch for several idle-power spot landings. All those quiet private moments I experienced just sitting in my little ultralight contributed to my accomplishing this task. After a flight of 45 minutes, and after flying a slow flight regime just over the runway, I landed long and then taxied back to the hangar. After shutting down the little Quick, I remained seated. Again, I went to that special place to just think. I know I still need some time to recover, but in the meantime, Bever and Ken are working on an electric start package for my Quicksilver. I am a blessed man, and I know it. I love being in this position in life. Being 81 years old is great.

George Karamitis, EAA 144192, is a retired TWA captain, holds an ATP with B-727 and B-747 type ratings, and has been a CFI for more than 50 years. In 2013, George received the Wright Brothers Master Pilot Award for more than 50 years of accident-, incident-, and citation-free flight.