SLO LIFE Feb/Mar 2018
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| LEGACY<br />
NORTH<br />
STAR<br />
This academic school year marks the end of an era at<br />
Cuesta College as GIL STORK, an institution within the<br />
institution, after 51 years, calls it a career.<br />
BY TOM FRANCISKOVICH<br />
When Gil Stork woke up on the runway<br />
he rubbed his tongue across his teeth to<br />
discover some of them were broken. His<br />
first thought was, “My mom is going to<br />
kill me!” She had always warned him<br />
that he would get his teeth knocked out<br />
playing football. Turned out she was<br />
right, in a way. With his legs and back<br />
throbbing in pain, consciousness slowly returning, he could begin to see<br />
what appeared to be flames flickering through the dense fog. The next thing<br />
he remembers was someone running up, standing over him and shouting,<br />
“There’s another one over here!”<br />
Forever tied to San Luis Obispo’s most tragic event, the Cal Poly Football<br />
team airplane crash of October 29, 1960, it took Stork many years to reconcile<br />
the events of that night, just outside of Toledo, Ohio, which claimed the lives<br />
of 22 of the 48 aboard. Why did they over-pack the plane? Why did they<br />
attempt a takeoff in that soupy fog? What caused the left engine to fail? Why<br />
did I switch seats? Why did I survive? It should have been me.<br />
Guilt, confusion, and anger followed—years of processing. Constantly<br />
replaying the events of that night, bargaining in prayer with a higher power<br />
for a somehow different result. The question, “Why am I here, but he’s not?”<br />
played in an endless loop, over and over again in the mind of the young<br />
offensive lineman.<br />
Rising out of mourning is a gradual process, and sometimes it never<br />
happens. Once in a while a good day comes along, sometimes followed by<br />
another. When a string of them link up into a long chain, it can be said<br />
that someone has finally “turned the corner.” For Stork, the up and down<br />
struggle to return to normal took hold six years later when his first child<br />
was born. Going through that experience—“witnessing the miracle of<br />
life”—shifted his perspective in an instant and changed his thinking from<br />
questioning why the crash had happened to pondering the significance<br />
of it. As he settled in with his wife and their baby, a new question arose: >><br />
44 | <strong>SLO</strong> <strong>LIFE</strong> MAGAZINE | FEB/MAR <strong>2018</strong>