From Christmas, 1980, to April 1981, I spent the quarter on a remote Pacific island salvaging a US airliner that crash-landed there. No fatalities. During my time I bartered my mechanical skills for room and board with a missionary concern operating a couple airplanes in the mercy role. It performed various relief services to outer islanders and spread the word of its gawd around as it went about its missionary work. Anyway, I worked closely with the chief pilot and despite my deference to his ideology we got along. I was 25, he was closer to 50. For his part, he sensed who I was philosophically and we managed to avoid theological discussion.

He was an American ex-pat. His assistant was a native islander. We all got along fine. Their operation was under funded and pretty spartan but we got by. If I had to call it an island paradise I'd being saying that with a gun to my head. The natives were the restless type ready to take advantage of any weakness they observed. Their identity to the world would be the island head hunters of old Hollywood. Actual shrunken heads were hanging from the war spears owned by their ancestors that they proudly displayed in the island museum, which was a thatched roof hut on bamboo stilts. I bought some replicas, a grass ceremonial skirt, beads, betelnut purse and an everyday loin cloth (which gave me a chance to display a latent Tarzan psychosis - kidding). Plus, their holy man gave me religious artifacts that empowered me over other men - for $20.00.

Anyway, the idea conveyed is to picture the primitiveness of the island society and the role of the missionaries in their midst. Hold that thought. And, the island is less than 10 miles at it's greatest dimension.

Fast forward -

Today I read an account of a US F-16 fighter pilot who decided to end his career 9 years short of the requisite 20 for retirement to take a pilot job with the missionary aviation outfit on that island. He's taking his wife, also smitten by the indoctrination she received as a child, and three young children to this island where education is minimal, life is about performing heavy labor and rewards are few to nonexistent. He and she have chosen to spread the winged word of their gawd. Ain't it beautiful? *ting*

In strict regard to their kids, and knowing the island and it inhabitants, I have to question the lucidity of their parents. Granted, the kids will be duly indoctrinated into the silliness their parents hold dear and all will be well in their world. Or, will it? Will one or more of the kids resent them for depriving them of a world that might have otherwise advantaged their lives? Will one or more of the kids rebel into atheism and bring doubt to the familial purpose and cohesiveness of their family unit? In other words, will the judgement of the parents be scorned by their own kids as religious selfishness?

Lot's of questions, no answers and certainly a risk the parents are not embracing with their heads.