A Good Life, Lifted by Others
A good life is a gift you get from other people.
Fred Rogers said that, and after forty-seven years together (forty-one of them married) I’ve watched my wife Mary prove it true repeatedly.
Mary Shandonay is, quite simply, an extraordinary human being. A really, good mom. Distinguished special education teacher. Resolute swimming coach. Caring daughter, sister, and an advocate for the underdog. An energetic ski patrol medic. A natural mentor who gives from somewhere deep inside.
Her teaching career began in Shell Lake, Wisconsin, after spending her senior year of college student teaching in England—the first stamp on what would become a well-traveled passport. She spent the next thirty-three years in the Neenah School System, and for every one of those years, she volunteered to host student teachers in her classroom. Even her summers, a time when most teachers recharge, were spent tutoring neighborhood kids and former students.
Then came Tanzania.
When my brother Patrick started a non-profit installing solar lighting in impoverished schools and medical clinics, he mentioned that a library in Tanzania needed someone to teach English. Mary didn’t hesitate. While Patrick worked on solar installations at the Jifundishe Library, Mary instructed children and adults alike. The following summer, she returned alone, having fundraised enough to treat her students to a safari adventure.
Fast forward to 2024. Retired from full-time teaching, Mary now had more time to travel and visit our grown children dispersed between New York and British Columbia, Canada.
Then she said something I could hardly believe: “I want to get my pilot’s license.”
Aviation has been my passion for years. I’ve flown whenever time and money allowed, making it a cornerstone of our family story. We’d done some flying together through the early years, even before the kids were born. Mary enjoyed being in the air, but I don’t recall her ever expressing interest in taking the controls herself. Every summer, we’d attend EAA AirVenture Oshkosh together. When we couldn’t make it to the air show, we’d sit by the lake, watching planes trace patterns across the sky. Mary had always been there beside me, supporting my love of flight. But now she wanted her own wings.
The spark came unexpectedly. One morning at the YMCA pool, Mary struck up a conversation with a fellow pilot during her swim. He suggested she should get her pilot’s license. A few weeks later, an aviation book arrived in the mail—a gift from him. That was all it took. The seed was planted. Looking back, maybe I should have been giving Mary aviation books instead of jewelry all these years.
Mary approached flying the same way she’d approached everything else in her life—by seeking out the best mentors and building a community.
Before her first official lesson, our friend Wally Bauer invited her up for a flight, giving her a preview of what was to come. That flight sparked something in Mary. She was hooked. Her first lesson followed shortly after with the exceptionally polished flight instructor John Drury at Pilotsmith, Inc., in Green Bay. By the time she arrived, Mary had a childlike wonderment about flying that I hadn’t seen before. John’s expert instruction turned that initial spark into a “can’t wait to fly again” obsession. Mary wasn’t nervous or skeptical—she was ready to learn everything she could, and John was the perfect instructor to guide her journey from the very beginning.
The hardest part of learning to fly for Mary wasn’t a maneuver or weather delays—it was her determination to absorb absolutely everything all at once. Aviation became a lifestyle that Mary connected with, and she threw herself into it completely. Every night we’d work on ground school before dinner, talk flying during dinner, and dive into more aviation after dinner. Then Mary would head to bed with an aviation book in her hands.
On weekends when weather grounded us, we’d drive to different airports to scout them out ahead of flying there. Books and notes went everywhere Mary went. When it came time to prepare for the FAA knowledge test, we’d sometimes work for hours on end, reviewing everything there was to learn. It paid off—Mary earned an excellent score on her final knowledge test, and I realized how much I’d forgotten over the years. I do miss those early evenings demonstrating traffic patterns with a hand-drawn airport on a big piece of paper covering the dining room table, using an old model airplane that used to hang in our son’s bedroom as a kid.
The aviation community embraced Mary with open arms. Her infectious enthusiasm drew in pilots, instructors, and friends alike—each contributing to her journey in their own way and proving just how powerful mentorship can be when it comes full circle.
Pilotsmith is a great organization to learn with, but they have a large fleet, and moving from airplane to airplane creates an extra learning curve. Mary trained at Waupaca, Marathon, and even in the Florida Keys, always in different Cessna 172s. As a school teacher, Mary embraced technology and transitioned well to newer airplanes with glass panel displays, but each airplane had its own quirks.
Then, what I can only describe as Divine Intervention, an idea occurred to me one night while saying my prayers: I should get Mary her own airplane.
A beautiful 1966 Cessna 150F appeared on Facebook Marketplace in East Troy, Wisconsin. The airplane had been hibernating in a warm hangar. I drove out, took a ton of pictures, and hurried home to show Mary. Two days later, we drove back together and struck a deal with the owner’s A&P mechanic, Scott. We found a hangar to rent at Waupaca Municipal Airport (KPCZ).
Our good friend Austin, a young Delta Airlines pilot, insisted on flying it back with Mary. Austin flew his Citabria to Waupaca, the three of us drove to East Troy, and Mary and Austin flew the 150 back to Waupaca. Then Mary and Austin flew the Citabria back to Oshkosh.
The previously described Divine Intervention—plus the aviation community—made it all come together. In no time, Mary was getting to know her airplane inside and out. That’s when everything really clicked. She was progressing faster than ever.
And then there was Kylee Fameree, quite possibly one of the best flight instructors on earth. Something about Kylee’s personality made everything click even more, helping Mary sail through her checkride with confidence.
After passing her checkride with excellence, Mary was humble, as always. She didn’t celebrate for long. She thanked everyone who congratulated her and, the following week, jumped right into working on her instrument rating. That’s Mary. Always learning, always moving forward, always seeking the next challenge.
Watching Mary earn her wings, I realized something profound: for decades, she’d been the mentor, the giver, the one lighting the way for others. Now, the aviation community was returning that gift, proving what Fred Rogers knew all along.
A good life really is a gift you get from other people. Especially when you’ve spent yours giving to others.
Thank you all.
The Community That Helped Mary Fly
Mary’s flying journey was supported by an extraordinary group of pilots, instructors, airport friends, and fellow enthusiasts who shared their time, knowledge, encouragement, and friendship along the way.
With heartfelt thanks to:
- Donn Droegkamp
- John Drury
- Don Fine
- Walter Bauer
- Doug Osterberg
- Galen Killam
- Scott Dixon
- Matt Klatt
- Brittny Klatt
- Jim Cotter
- Marty Sneath
- Steve Krog
- Walt Scheunemann
- Margaret Burton
- Andrew Paulus
- Loren Larson
- Jeff Miller
- Aaron Fredenhagen
- Dan Buehrens
- Seth Wayne
- Rose Dorcey
- Donavan Lane
- Aaron Wehrman
- Tim Lemke
- Amber Digman
- Richard Hanusa
- Sol Bradman
- Pat Ripp
- Daryl McCullion
