Jeanette Pasqua, Dublin, PA writes: “My Flight with Frank” in The Main Central Jin Shin Jyutsu Newsletter, issue Number 81, Summer 2013:

This article was written in March 1999. Every March in the years from 1991 to 1999, I traveled to Scottsdale, Arizona, to receive what is called an “intensive” of Jin Shin Jyutsu sessions. As a practitioner of this Art, it was truly a great experience for me to receive these sessions. It was so inspiring to be with my teacher, Mary Burmeister, and practitioner, Pat Meador. It was so great seeing everyone in the busy office.

This past March (1999) was wonderful. The weather was bright and sunny in Scottsdale. In between session times, I really enjoyed some quiet time. I meditated and prayed. Part of my daily prayer to God is to offer myself in service in the highest good for all. “My Flight with Frank” was an answer to prayer. (I changed his name to respect his privacy.)

We left Phoenix airport and were seated on the plane in the first row just behind first class. I had an aisle seat, and there was a mom and her little girl to my left. Across the aisle sat Frank. Next to him were two lovely young women. He looked across at me and joked and laughed that he had the best seat in the house. As time went on, it became apparent that Frank was quite a character. He spoke with a gravelly voice and cupped his hand around his mouth every time he spoke to me, as if he was telling me something secretive. The funny thing was, though, he spoke so loud that the first two rows heard everything he said. He said he felt like a sixteen-year-old in an eighty-nine-year-old body. His wife died of cancer two years ago. He said her sister came to take care of him, but that didn’t work out: “She was too bossy.” He shared that he had had a five-bypass operation, and he was on his second pacemaker.

About four times during the flight Frank would reach as far as he could to touch the attendant button, but couldn’t reach it. I got out of my seat belt and pushed it for him. He cupped his hands around his mouth and said very loudly that the two young ladies to his right “are no help at all.” I smiled and asked if he wanted the flight attendant, to which he replied, “I need the maid.” The flight attendant came every time, bringing Frank extra water, napkins, etc. Frank was extremely breathless after speaking and also cleared his throat so loudly that many times he apologized, saying he was embarrassed. I told him that his body was doing what it needed and not to worry.

He said, “I want you to know who I am. Go get my leather brown bag out of the overhead and give it to me.” I did as he said. Frank pulled out a slip of paper that had a long list of his medications on it. Then he reached into his bag and pulled out some professional studio photographs of himself as a young man in dance poses, dipping pretty women. He explained that in the late 1930’s he was with the dance troupe of Lawrence Welk and was on the very first televised programs. I remarked how handsome he looked. He winked and smiled.

Soon our food came, and Frank gave me his roll and told me to take it home. I said, “No, thank you.” He kept insisting. I said, “No, thank you, Frank.” Finally he got the message. Then I felt him tapping my arm with his bowl of chicken saying, “Could you cut my meat?” At this point I could feel a bit of agitation rising within me. I exhaled and received another breath and said, “Sure, Frank.” I turned to the woman beside me and asked her jokingly, “Do I have a big neon sign on my forehead saying ‘Mrs. Softy’?” She laughed. We all finished our meal.

To be continued…