Tag Archives: Malysian Air Flight 370

It's the uncertainty that is most painful

The people who love those who were aboard Malaysia Air Flight 370 are enduring the worst of this tragedy.

They are waiting for any hint, a clue, a tiny tidbit of knowledge about their fate. Absent that, their minds are playing terrible tricks on them. They are having fanciful dreams of a miracle that those aboard the plane that vanished without a trace — so far — after taking off March 8 from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia en route to Beijing.

I know a little bit about what they’re going through. I’ll share a brief version of a personal tragedy in my own family’s history.

On the morning of Sept. 8, 1980, I received a phone call at work. The voice on the other end told me my father was missing after a boating accident just north of Vancouver, British Columbia. Four men were aboard a small craft; two of them were safe; the other two were missing. Dad was one of the men missing — and he was presumed dead.

I took a deep breath, called my wife and went home to prepare to tell my mother the terrible news.

The next day, I boarded a small plane to the fishing camp where Dad and his business associates were staying. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police were conducting a search of the saltwater inlet for any sign of Dad’s body. After two days they hadn’t found anything.

I returned home and we all waited for news. Meanwhile, my mind was fantasizing about Dad. He was alive, traipsing around in the forest, undetected by civilization.

I knew intellectually that wasn’t the case. I knew he was gone. But we didn’t have any tangible evidence of what happened to him.

Eight days later, the evidence arrived with a phone call from the Mounties. They found Dad. I was relieved and heartbroken at the same time. But we had closure and were able to say goodbye properly.

This is what those who are waiting for news about Flight 370 might be going through. They well could be clinging to the thinnest reed of hope that their loved ones are miraculously OK; that they landed on a remote island; that they’re waiting for someone to fly overhead to detect them, rescue them and return them to those who love them.

Those loved ones know better, but their minds and hearts could be playing terrible tricks on them.

Their pain defies description.

Big Brother must have blinked on this one

“1984” has been praised and demonized since its publication in 1949.

The novel by George Orwell has been seen as a predictor of relentless government surveillance, where Big Brother would have his eyes on you at all times, tracking your every movement, utterance and relationship you’ve ever experienced.

We’ve all heard the reference to “Big Brother is watching,” correct?

The National Security Agency stuff in recent times has helped bring “1984” back into the public discussion.

What in the world was Big Brother doing about eight days ago when a Malaysian Air jetliner with 239 passengers and crew took off from Kuala Lumpur en route to Beijing? He must have taken a snooze. The plane reportedly took a hard left turn somewhere over the Gulf of Thailand and then — poof! — disappeared, apparently without a trace.

The United States has several spy satellites orbiting Earth. So do China, Russia and the European Space Agency (with the Brits, French and Germans leading the way). They’ve supposedly got eyes on virtually every square mile of the planet at the same time.

Just how does an airplane the size of a Boeing 777 long-haul jetliner vanish without anyone having a clue where it could be at this moment? Is it at the bottom of some large body of water? Did it crash in a remote jungle? Did someone — as a few “experts” have speculated in the past 24 hours — hijack the bird and fly it to some airstrip in, say, Pakistan, Tibet or Outer Mongolia?

The question on my mind at this moment is this: Has the Big Brother scare planted in our heads 64 years ago by George Orwell’s frightening novel been overplayed and overhyped by some media frenzy?

The great heavyweight champion Joe Louis once commented after nearly losing his title in 1941 to light-heavyweight champion Billy Conn — who out-boxed the champ for 12 rounds before getting knocked out in Round 13 when he decided to slug it out: “You can run but you can’t hide.”

Well, maybe you can hide.