Jumping out of a Plane

     

At Seneca Falls 1976

 In the early '70's there was a television show on its first run called All in the Family. In one episode, the main character, Archie Bunker, was turning 50 and his family wanted to celebrate. But Archie was grouchy and wanted nothing to do with celebrating. When his wife and daughter asked him why, he said that accepting 50 is to accept that he is old. I was in college at the time, and my parents were in their early 40's – so I agreed with Archie, 50 was old. Archie said that there were things in his life he had not done yet, and now he might never do them – he said he had never ridden a horse!

      For some reason, that scene has always stuck with me. I think it is because I remember sitting on a horse at my neighbor's house across the street when I was only four years old – it was a memory I just took for granted. And yet here was Archie – talking about what we call these days a bucket list – and he thought he had missed his chance to ride a horse.

I made a vow then to do the things I wanted to do before I got old. One item on my list was to go skydiving, just once, just to say that I did.

      A few years went by. I graduated college in 1975 – Canisius College go Griffs! A Jesuit institution of higher learning in Buffalo, New York. Receiving a bachelor of arts degree in biology, I decided that instead of more schooling, I would take my diploma and see what was out there in the working world for me – for a while. The job market was poor and I am terrible at selling myself. There had to be a lab or someplace out there who would want a great employee like me to hire!

            I scored high enough on a civil service exam that I had to be offered the job that the test was for – health inspector! The people in charge told me I did NOT want to be a health inspector – it would involve going to people's homes in questionable parts of town and probably irritating them. Yeah, it sounded scary. They drove all the way out to North Boston one day to make sure I had signed off on the papers in the correct places so that it was all legal that I was declining the health inspector job.

          Finally, after five months of looking around, my grandmother mentioned a place within walking distance of her home that looked like it might be a lab. I checked it out, walked in, and found the guts to tell the two owners of the agar factory to hire me. They said their employees don't require a four year degree. I said they could pay me the same as the others. They were worried I would get bored and leave – I said I wasn't doing anything else with my time right then – please give me something to do. And so I was hired.

      There are many stories I could tell about the agar factory, and I do from time to time. There are things one learns in the workplace that are not in textbooks or taught in school. For the most part I was happy to have something to do everyday, someplace to go. But the work was indeed a bit mindless, not what I went to school to do, and the pay was not enough to help me save for graduate studies which is where I figured I should be going if there was nothing else out there for me at my present educational level.

      That next summer, many of my college friends came back to town from all the places they had flown off to after graduation – medical school, dental school, graduate school. We hung out just like old times – had a lot of fun.

      But at the end of the summer, they all left town again – back to their respective schools. They left me there all alone – their geography and their studies were leaving me ever more behind.

      Not only was I in a mind-numbing job, but clearly I had made the wrong choice in entering the workforce instead of continuing my education and I saw no way out, at least not in the immediate future.

      One of my friends had not yet returned to his school in Chicago. Mike H., easily the smartest person I have ever met, was doing his graduate studies in quantum physics. His next semester was not beginning until mid-September. And in the midst of my late August feeling sorry for myself state, Mike called on the phone and asked if I would like to do anything.

      I said yes, I would like to go skydiving.

      Mike thought that was a great idea, and he offered to get some info about it. A couple of days later Mike called again and said that the nearest place for us to jump out of a plane would be Seneca Falls – a drive of about two hours east of Buffalo – Seneca Falls is the home of the first Women's Rights Convention in 1848! And it was where, in 1976, we were going to do our one time skydiving so that when we turn 50 we can say – well at least we jumped out of a plane!

       Mike said we would have to take a class which lasts most of the day before we could get to the skydive – a Sunday would be best. That next Sunday morning, very very early before my parents even woke up, I left a note saying I would be hanging out with Mike that day. We picked up a third person – the brother, Rick R.,  of a dear college classmate of ours.

      And we were gone. Points east. To Seneca Falls. What was this going to be like?

      We arrived and found the skydiving school. There were about 10 folks wanting to take the class and jump out of a plane that day. I don't remember too much about the hours we spent training except that we had to jump from a platform to the cement floor – about 3 feet down – and that was the equivalent of the impact we would be feeling when we landed after the jump. Not too bad.

       And we had to learn all about parachutes – mostly the ripcord pulling part, not the packing. Once you pull the ripcord and the parachute opens, you are supposed to look at the parachute to see if it is okay. If there is something wrong, there were moves you could make to try and straighten it out. But if you looked up and saw a Mae West, a cord pinching the middle of the chute such that it looks like two bulbous Mae West breasts, well, you are probably a goner – the chute will not help you land safely, and there's not much that can be done to get the two breasts to become one parachute. After this many years, Mae West is hard to forget!

      The training about the deployment of the parachutes was not really necessary for our jumps that day – but would be useful should we decide to pursue skydiving as a hobby. For our one-time jump, the parachutes were packed for us, and the ripcords were going to be hooked onto the plane! We did not have to pull the cords ourselves, they would be pulled by the plane once we jumped – a guaranteed successful deployment of each chute! Oh my gosh, could it get any easier?

      Finally the time came for us to put on the suits and helmets and the parachutes. We loaded onto a small plane, and the plane began to move; it rolled down the runway. It got to the end of the runway. And then it stalled!

The trainers told us not to worry about anything! They would get the plane started, re-do the runway, and then we'll be in the air.

That oh-oh voice inside me said, “Uh, don't you think this is your cue to get off? Really? The plane breaks down at the end of the runway and you still think it will be okay to fly in?” The suggestion to get off the plane was a really good one, but I stayed on as did everyone else.

      Eventually the plane got started, went down the runway again and this time became airborne – of course it did, how else could it kill everyone on board?

      We circled the area of the skydiving school. Maybe the plane would be okay after all. We got to the prime area for us to jump. One at a time someone would go to the open door. The cord was hooked to a place on the floor of the plane – the person was told to jump and the person did! Then the next person went to the door – hooked, was told to jump, and out the person went. Everyone jumped, including Mike and Rick. I was the only one left. I got to the door, hooked, was told to jump – and I yelled “Nooooooooo!” It was too frightening! – so far down! – how could anyone sane just jump? The plane by then was just past the prime landing space. The instructors said the pilot would circle around again and I would have to jump the next time. They were not going to push me – I had to do it on my own. And if I did not do it the next time, I would have to ride with them as they went a lot higher so the instructors could have a jump too – and then I'd have to ride back to land with the pilot. I said that I understood. As we circled, I was getting airsick – I knew I wanted to jump rather than stay on the plane – they yelled “Jump” I yelled back “Noooooooo!” but I tilted forward, hoping gravity would pull me out.

And it did!

      Free fall for about a half a second – a very terrifying half a second – and then my parachute opened. I looked up, no Mae West – the chute had deployed correctly. I looked around. The weather was perfect. I was sailing slowly – slower than a ferris wheel. Floating down, safely, no roller coaster adrenaline rush, So peaceful drifting – the world so beautiful in every direction!

      The guys and I drove back home ecstatic that we had accomplished something that we had said we would do someday. The next day I told my parents all about it. They were upset at first but then they couldn't wait to tell everyone what their daughter did on Sunday.

A few days later Mike went back to school in Chicago.

      I decided that I would work extra hours at the agar factory, earning as much money as I could in as short a time as possible. By November I could have my college loans paid off.

And then I could tilt out of the plane again – float freely and look around to see what else was out there for me. And I did, and I have.

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