The Blue Angels & Air Force Thunderbirds Show Their Respect for First Responders – In Reality, What Did It Really Do?

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By Maya J. Carter

On the afternoon of May 2, 2020 in the beautiful, clear blue sky, the jets flew by.

Allow me to go back a few hours. I awoke that morning, excited about the prospect of making a small contribution to my community. A family friend’s daughter had advertised on Instagram and Facebook a local food donation event for families in Grant Park. One she had organized herself. Families here and throughout the country had been hit hard by the COVID-19 pandemic. Unemployment was on the rise, and the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act would provide some financial support in order to subsidize the lack of steady incomes. Yet and still, food lines continued to grow.

The U.S. Navy’s Blue Angels and the Air Force Thunderbirds flew in perfect formation, a signature show of support for first responders and hospital workers caring for COVID-19 patients. The White House (WH) had given their order for the jets to make flyovers across the nation. Operation America Strong was a go. What was their purpose? Would they see what was happening on the ground below? Surely this was the WH administration’s version of the daily 7 PM thunderous applause, an expression of gratitude given by the citizens of New York in honor of their overextended healthcare workers. The cost of flying the squadrons amounted to $60,000 per hour of taxpayer money as per the Washington Post. The applause, on the other hand, was free. Meanwhile, 24 more deaths were reported that Saturday in Georgia, as well as almost 1,000 new coronavirus cases.

I arrived at my friend’s home where her family had gathered in the living room. I made myself at home on her comfy couch; her family sat across from me. My friend was in the kitchen emptying out the refrigerator while also taking care of her elderly patient. Stacked with care were boxes upon boxes of food awaiting distribution. Huge broccoli and celery stalks, fresh eggs, gallons of milk and water, applesauce in containers, loaves of bread, big blocks of butter, sweet smelling strawberries, boxes of oatmeal and cornmeal, bags of flour and sugar, blocks of cheese…and so much more. One family member was to meet us at the park with a trunk full of whole chickens. The family had pooled their own money to make the donations. The estimated cost for each box of groceries was around $75, and each box could probably feed a family of four for at least a week. My friend’s family did not have unlimited resources, but gave so much, and “gave from the heart” as my friend would tell me. I was honored to join them and overwhelmed by their generosity. We made small talk about coronavirus and the number of cases mounting across the country. We spoke about the President, our Governor and local politicians. We jokingly asked one another if we had taken our daily preventive disinfectant and UV light to ward off coronavirus, as recommended by the President in his now dwindling Coronavirus Task Force briefings. There was no mention of jets.

The jets left neat, white entrails in their wake as they flew by that day. Not a cloud in sight to obscure their splendor. They soared by, making a wide U-turn in the air. Would they drop jumbo-sized wooden crates of food for hungry Americans? Would they descend upon the hospitals bearing PPE or sophisticated medical instrumentation like ventilators the healthcare workers so desperately needed?

My friend had prepared well for the first major outing since the onset of the pandemic, down to the last detail. She packed extra latex-free gloves in storage bags, and passed out masks for us to wear. We drove to the park, and set up a folding table to arrange the boxes of food. There was so much to donate, the set up of boxes spilled to the ground. I forgot the bag of gloves…I could have sworn I brought them, but no. We were only 5 minutes away from the park, so I went back to her home to retrieve them while the family continued setting up.

The F-19 fighter jets made a loop over the park, and we witnessed their glory for almost a whole 30 seconds. It happened so quickly, I couldn’t snap a photograph. I had taken pictures of the smiling, joyful family standing by the boxes of food that day. I love those photos. Would the healthcare workers even have the opportunity to leave their patients in the ICUs to observe the magnificence of the jets we had seen? Would the pilots report back to the WH to say Mission Accomplished to sooth the ego of a leader who was otherwise ignoring the stark reality this country faced?

The families who had signed up for the donations began showing up one by one. The kids played in a shady field of grass beneath a towering pine tree, as the sounds of a pick up basketball game could be heard across the driveway. There was a homeless man who peed on a wall of the nearby recreation center, who then approached and slowly walked past our table, meekly checking out all of the provisions. He only asked if we could spare some water. We were hesitant to allow him to come near as he wore no mask, but one of my friend’s daughters called him back to the table to give him a gallon. He was grateful, accepted the water gracefully, and walked away, disappearing into the park. As we handed out boxes to the families, they told their stories of the complexities and struggles they faced. Did you hear our aunt had been diagnosed with coronavirus? Yeah, she is really sick. Some said they were turned away from COVID-19 testing centers despite known contacts. Some had family and neighbors who died from this terrible virus. Some had many family members living under one roof and were taking care of their elders, shielding them away from the pandemic. Others had lost their jobs. I think one refused an extra box. They showed up, one by one, and each were appreciative of the kindness bestowed upon them. My friend’s family had made a difference with their charitable donations.

The jets flew above and their powerful engines could be heard for miles. Although we heard them coming before we saw them, I had forgotten they were coming that day. We were too busy focusing upon meeting the immediate needs of the local community. When the jets flew by, so many questions came to mind. Should we have stopped and applauded the once in a lifetime exhibition of aeronautic pageantry? What was their mission – a meaningful grand gesture in stark contrast to the tiresome, unrelenting work being done on the ground? Would this display make up for month after month of the President’s denial of the dire situation facing the nation? What was going through the minds of the pilots, after all they were carrying out orders on behest of the WH?

As the jets flew by, some of us got to witness the spectacular air show; most of us did not. It was a decent gesture, but not hardly enough.

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