John Everybody: 1960 to 2013

I just attended a friend's brother's funeral.  A man I never knew but in the course of a beautiful hour-long service, grew to know who he really was.  I think people know us as we go through life but when opportunities arise like this when friends and families get a chance to testify, so to speak, the "realness" comes out. 

We all have someone like John in our families.  You do, I do. It is out of sincere respect for John and those like John that I write this.

John was just over fifty years old when he passed.  He lived his last few days in assisted living after years of suffering from an emotional, psychological illness.  He had a typical childhood, played sports in high school, traveled with his loving family, considered his father a hero and held his mother near to his heart.

The small Baptist church was crowded with family and friends, members of the church where the services were held as well as from other churches he was affiliated with over the years.  

As those at the service got up to say a little something about John, his life began to take form.  In reading between the lines, he was quite a character.  His quirks and idiosyncrasies were widely known and there was so much more meaning beyond the interruptions at meetings, constant questioning, and lengthy phone calls at all hours of the day and night. He was truly a constant in every life he touched.

The stories unfolded and his life took shape.  I found out that his smile was that of a toothpaste commercial and that he had a dry sense of humor, was intelligent, had a photographic memory, was reliable and trustworthy and made people think beyond their typical doctrines and beliefs. He was also extremely caring and often prayed to remember to be considerate of others and to be a better friend, son and brother.

Initially, I felt that people simply humored him or, worse, tolerated him but in reality he truly was an important part of their lives.  Many who gave touching testimonies, mentioned the empty chair where he once sat, missing his presence, no longer being able to rely on his unique ability to quote chapter and verse.  I did get a sense of genuine loss and the realization of whom John truly was.

It was amazing that within just an hour, John's life was appropriately described as he should be remembered not how he appeared to be. There were good-natured, gentle  laughter and heart-felt tears along with lots of warm smiles.

In our family, there was Uncle Stanley, my grandmother’s brother.  I only saw him a few times as a kid but never really knew him, being wrapped up with the self-absorbed nature of adolescence. How unfortunate.  Grandma never spoke much about him but occasionally I would catch her tearing up, knowing what a tortured life he led. 

He would visit my grandmother from time to time at our house in Wantagh, New York, where she lived with us for many years.  I have clear visions of them sitting at our small wooden kitchen table talking quietly and somberly.  He was the youngest and she cared deeply for him.

Uncle Stanley spent time in Bellevue, the New York City psychiatric hospital.  I remember passing its tall, bleak ominous structure with barred windows on trips into the city.  At the end, he lived by himself in a small apartment in Brooklyn where they found him dead.  I never really knew the story but there wasn’t much talk about the how’s and why’s.  It just happened and he was buried.  He didn’t have the testimonies from a church full of friends and families, just silent grief and tears from his older sister.

According to my grandmother, he wasn’t always like that. He was the life of the party, dashing, enjoyed camping, fishing and driving fancy cars. He was also married once and had a little girl whom he lost contact with over the years.  What happened along the way?

My grandmother had a term for Uncle Stanley and people like him.  She called them “lost souls” .... those among us who are constantly wondering, wandering, searching and wanting to belong ….  deeply saddened by it all.

So … John, Stanley and all the lost souls … be at peace now that you are no longer lost but in a place that recognizes and embraces your own unique greatness.  Know that you were valued, cared about and made a difference in people’s lives.  God bless you.  God bless you.  Be at peace.

Not too Late to Innovate

On the morning of April 8^th, 2013, I begrudgingly woke up to begin my morning routine.  Glazed with the lack of sleep, I pummeled my alarm clock undeservingly three or four times to get a few skinny minutes of interrupted sleep.

I stumbled to the coffee maker and hit the magic button to percolate the life-giving four cups of coffee that I pre-loaded the night before.  I then hit the button on my radio that sits on my living room floor with my big toe. It too is pre-programmed to NPR at a volume I am sure my neighbors don’t appreciate at that hour.

I need to be on autopilot most mornings to get up and out, so the less I leave to chance the better! 

In disbelief, I stared in the mirror to look upon a much older imposter.  After I got over my disappointment that he was really me, I brushed my teeth, shaved, showered and sipped some coffee, all the while listening to NPR and the local public radio station.

I enjoy the slow paced news reporting and comprehensive featured stories that replace the rapid fire, repetitive TV or typical radio news delivered by talking heads being constantly interrupted by annoying commercials.  Besides getting updated on the latest world crisis and the daily reminders of how our constipated elected officials can’t make decisions, the broadcast helps to facilitate the waking process and slowly turn me into a human being.

This particular morning, I was listening to an interview by Jeremy Hobson in his syndicated Market Place Morning Report.  It was with Tom Agan, managing partner at Rivia, a firm specializing in innovation and brand consulting.  The topic was innovation and, more importantly, what is the best age for innovation.

The refreshing message, clear and straight, … it is never too late to innovate and, in reality, those that are most innovative are a little long in the tooth.  So there’s not only hope but proof that folks in their forties and fifties can and do create new products,  … and to take it further … change careers, begin a new life, do something great or become someone they always wanted to be.

The key thread through Mr. Hobson’s story and the critical ingredient for innovation according to Mr. Agan’s research, is experience.  Once again, I go to my trusted counsel, Mr. Webster.  Experience means “a practical knowledge, skill or practice derived from direct observation of or participation in events or in a particular activity”.  More over, experien”ed” means “made skillful or wise through experience”.

My good friend continued to feed my frenzied search for confirmation by adding synonyms such as accomplished, consummate, crackerjack, expert, masterful, and my favorite … virtuoso.  Wow!!!   To think I was just getting older!!

“The real innovators average about age 40” stated Mr. Agan during Mr. Hobson’s interview.  He went on to say that the image of a young college kid in his dorm room concocting the next big idea like Mark Zuckerberg is a “total fallacy”.    Agan provided a true example of Steve Jobs who created the iPod and iPhone after many years of working in the industry.  His successes and innovations came after years of experience (aka trial and error) or graduating from the “school of hard knocks” as by grandma Julia used to say.  I am sure we all can come up with many, many more men and women who have mastered their trade and accomplished great things.  There are many, many more just waiting to explode with the next big idea or simply to make a foundational shift in their lives.

Now that I have proven without a shadow of a doubt that all of us baby boomers have the potential through extensive experience and knowhow to be innovative, why aren’t we?  Why aren’t we bursting into the boardroom with a company saving concept, or convince our spouse to move to Paris, or get that PhD we always wanted, or write that one great book that is in us?  Why? Why? Why?

Glad you asked!  Over several months, I wrote three bogs, titled “Catapult for Sale”, “Settling is for Rocks” and “Fear of Falling”.

In each, I tried to share my own reasons through personal experiences as to why I didn’t, on multiple occasions, cross that ocean of molten lava from wanting something (aka “State of Desire”) to making it happen (aka “State of Being Cycle”).   There are so many reasons and for each of us the reasons are so very personal and so very real.

In “Settling is for Rocks”, I contemplated my comfort with complacency and the usual.  In “Fear of Falling”, it was the gut wrenching, sweat drenching anxiety provoked by the unknown and potential failure.  

In “Catapult for Sale”, I shared my belief that if you do not engineer your own mechanism for change in the way you want, someone or some event may make a change for you and one that is not of your liking.

The moral of the story, according to this casual observer and “virtuoso” (Don’t laugh!!), is that experience and knowledge is only part of the equation for innovation and creation.  There needs to be that bee in your bonnet, thorn in your side, pebble in your shoe and/or burr under your saddle that makes you take the leap and begin your journey.

So, my graying friend, if you find the words “I am too old to be doing this” rolling off your tongue and passing through your lips …. think again, long and hard … while listening to your favorite tunes on your iPod!

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In case you don’t believe me, here’s the link to hear Jeremy Hobson’s interview with Tom Agan.

http://www.marketplace.org/topics/business/what-best-age-innovation.

Just a Walk in the Park - Remembered

One year ago to the day, I was back in Kathmandu after completing a two week trek to Everest Base camp.  Sadly as the days go by and as I get sucked back into my daly routines and the everyday pressures and stress that continue to mount, the memories are beginning to fade as everything does over time.  Pretty soon, the pictures that now adorn my office walls will become dusty and may no longer have the inspirational punch that they do now.  But anytime anyone asks about my trip, my eyes light and my smile emerges as does the slide presentation on my iPad ready to relive the true wonder that I was graced to experience.  So... to keep things real and alive and rekindle that moment in time, I wanted to regift an earlier blog that truly captured the essence and spirit if that trek.  One more take away ... it s time for another adventure!!

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On a bucket list trip to Nepal some weeks back, I couldn’t but take a few lessons from a simple walk in the park…. Sagarmatha National Park….. that is.  

Amazing to think that I was trekking through the Khumbu Valley in the shadows of the Himalayas and the great one, Everest, just a few days a go.  The visions are captured among the 1,200 plus digital pictures and the lasting impression of my experience etched permanently in my heart, mind and soul as the Buddhist prayers were etched on hundreds of ancient mani stones along the trail.

Before the grandeur of the 29,000 foot master, my take away and lessons learned were quite simple.   Here are but a few.

  1.)  Trust your feet.

a.     On steep terrain or slick, snow covered boulders, take one step at a time and let your feet do the walking not your mind. 

b.     If you are not sure, trust your instincts.  Don’t confuse reality with fear, worry and over thinking. 

  2 .)  You don’t have to be in front to lead.

a.     The best vantage point is often from behind as others ahead might take the wrong path, tire out or loose their footing.

  3.)  Don’t be complacent or a yak will knock you into the abyss.

a.     Keep vigilant even when you are lost in the moment, relaxed or distracted.   Don’t loose sight of what is around you.

  4.)  If you need help, ask.

a.     Asking for help is not a sign of weakness but one of strength and wisdom.

b.     After a very hard climb up Kala Patthar (18,200 ft) , I was just exhausted.  Knowing that the descent on icy rocks would be harder, even dangerous, when fatigued, I asked our Sherpa guide to help lead the way.  He was only glad to help.  I made it back safely!

  5.)  Sing even if you don’t know the words.

a.     Express your joy in any way you can.   Don’t be constrained by perfection or the lack of or even if someone doesn't like your singing!!

  6.)  Recognize beauty in every step.

a.     There is beauty in a snow covered mountain, an orchid near the ground, a yak bell‘s rhythmic sound, eagles gliding overhead, the bright colors of prayer flags flapping in the wind …. All are beautiful in their own way.  Don’t miss the chance to see things in their authentic and simple beauty.

  7.)  Remember why you are here.

a.     It is so easy to forget the purpose of your journey especially when difficulties arise.

b.     When you stop and remember why you have embarked on such a trip and traveled half way around the world, clarity will come.

  8.)  Be in and enjoy every moment.

a.     This moment will never come again.  All your senses are at attention only at this moment.  No picture or tale will ever capture it again as it was so truly see it, breath it, smell it, feel it and taste it.  Savor every second until it becomes part of who you are.

  9.)  Be humble and gracefully allow others to pass.

a.     Sometimes ego gets in the way and we may not want others to succeed.  Letting people pass does not diminish who you are and what you are setting out to accomplish.  Who knows … they may remember your act and help later in your journey…possibly when you need it most.
10.) Help if another has a heavier load.

a.     Everyone has too heavy a load to bear at times.  When you see relief in their eyes as you ease their burden, you know you have done a good thing.

  11.) If you fall, figure out why and do what you can to not fall again.

a.     Falling several times in one day, one would think I would have learned a lesson.   It took our lead guide to remind me to use my trekking poles that were safely strapped on my day pack.  It was simply amazing that I never fell again after heeding his advice.

  12.) Even the weak are stronger then you are.

a.     It is humbling to see a young Sherpa boy, half my size in flip flops carry five times the load I was carrying over narrow, bolder strewn trails.  This mental and physical toughness was witnessed over and over again.   I never felt so weak in my life.

  13.)  No matter how fast you go, the end is the same.

a.     Each day of the trek, there was a start and a finish.  It didn’t matter what day.  Some might have been longer but always a start and a finish.  It was amazing to me that when I was lagging behind, “smelling the roses”, I always reached the camp soon after those who hurried to get there.  Go figure.

  14.)  The journey of exploration is often more satisfying then reaching the summit

a.     Read the wonderful poem,  “Ithaka”, by Constantine P. Cavafy and you will understand.

  15.)   A smile is welcoming in any language.

a.     Not much more to say then a sincere and warm smile opens many doors in any culture.

  16.)   It is good to remember those you love and those you lost.

a.     As I experienced all the marvels of my trip, I often wanted to share what I have experienced with those I love.  I also wished those that I lost would be there too with me.  The joy and wonder I felt wasn’t just for me but for all those who made me and enabled me along the way.

I think sixteen lessons learned are enough except for one final ….. Sherpas rule!!!

Namaste!!

Two years ago, I posted this blog in honor of my dad.  Since that time a lot has changed in my life but the admiration of those like my dad still remain as strong as ever.  It seems fitting to republish this blog as it was but with one note.  I recently received an email from, Tammy Zimmerman, granddaughter of Joe Zimmerman, a soldier in Company L, 255th Infantry Regiment ... the same company and regiment as my dad.  She wrote a book in honor of him titled: "Blinded by his Shadow".  It is a wonderful account of her Granddad's journey through France and Germany as a member of "Love Company".   She never knew him because he died prematurely at age 36 but his memory lived on to such an extend that she needed to know more and proceeded to research and write a very detailed, accurate portrayal of what those boys experienced.  It was a great read on its own but I was deeply appreciative of the opportunity to understand a little bit more about my dad's journey and his experiences.  Thank you, Tammy!!


On this day, March 14th, 66 years ago, the morning report of Company L, 255th Infantry Regiment of the 63rd Infantry Division read, “Departed Sarrenguemines Fr WQ 522 2015. Arrived forward assembly area Muhlen Wald Germany WQ 5261 2215”.

The day before, the morning report stated, “Co. received special training in attacking fortified positions and night attacks”.

The boys knew they were in for something serious.

My dad, Joseph Anthony Pulichene, was one of those boys. He and his buddies in Company L were getting ready for an advance against a German position. He would have celebrated his 19th birthday just days before on February 28th. What was going through his head THAT day as he waited for THAT moment? “Will I see my 20th birthday?” … might have been one thought.

Unfortunately he passed away many years ago when I was 21. I didn’t have the chance to ask him what it was like during those days in March, 1945. Although he may not have even told me as many WWII vets often kept their experiences to themselves. They knew and it didn’t need to be said.

My daughter and I have been walking his footsteps by way of Company L’s morning reports, trying to understand where he was and what he was going through. Maybe it was receiving an information packed CD from a granddaughter of a fellow Company L soldier, or recently viewing Ken Burns emotional documentary, “The War”, or maybe it was watching “Band of Brothers” on the monitor attached to an elliptical machine at my gym yesterday, but reading these morning reports last night moved me in a way I can’t explain.

Joseph Anthony Pulichene was a simple foot soldier being asked, as his entire generation was asked, to do the unspeakable. I hold no fanciful image of him charging a machine gun nest with a grenade in each hand. No … I think of him just as my dad. The guy who worked every day to raise his family, watched the Ed Sullivan and Dean Martin variety shows, drank with his friends at the Knights of Columbus, coached my little league team and was the loudest parent in the bleachers cheering me on the HS football field. He lived a blue collar life so I could go to an expensive college prep HS and see me at least through the middle of my senior year in college. He never knew what college really was all about, but he knew it was good and he wanted it for me.

That’s the terrified, skinny kid I pictured, staring out on that lonely, vast field in Germany he was about to cross 66 years ago. Maybe smoking what could have been his last cigarette, maybe saying a Hail Mary while clutching the Blessed Mother medal around his neck that his mom gave him the day he shipped out or maybe he was horsing around with his pals to mask his fear. That’s the guy who was ready to do the impossible.

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Morning Report: March 17

Location: 1 ½ Mi N Neumuhlerhof Ger

Note: Nelson, Donald E (Pvt), Pulichene, Joseph A (Pvt), Flikerson, Karl T (Pvt) Above 3 EM dy to clr 363 Med Bn LWA Germany Trfd DOP 7th A 16 March 45

Translation: Joe and two buddies were transferred to a medical unit to treat wounds suffered the day before. He received a Purple Heart for a shrapnel wound on his left bicep.

Just a Walk in the Park

On a bucket list trip to Nepal some weeks back, I couldn’t but take a few lessons from a simple walk in the park…. Sagarmatha National Park….. that is.  

Amazing to think that I was trekking through the Khumbu Valley in the shadows of the Himalayas and the great one, Everest, just a few days a go.  The visions are captured among the 1,200 plus digital pictures and the lasting impression of my experience etched permanently in my heart, mind and soul as the Buddhist prayers were etched on hundreds of ancient mani stones along the trail.

Before the grandeur of the 29,000 foot master, my take away and lessons learned were quite simple.   Here are but a few.

1    1.)  Trust your feet.

a.     On steep terrain or slick, snow covered boulders, take one step at a time and let your feet do the walking not your mind. 

b.     If you are not sure, trust your instincts.  Don’t confuse reality with fear, worry and over thinking. 

2    2 .)  You don’t have to be in front to lead.

a.     The best vantage point is often from behind as others ahead might take the wrong path, tire out or loose their footing.

3    3.)  Don’t be complacent or a yak will knock you into the abyss.

a.     Keep vigilant even when you are lost in the moment, relaxed or distracted.   Don’t loose sight of what is around you.

4    4.)  If you need help, ask.

a.     Asking for help is not a sign of weakness but one of strength and wisdom.

b.     After a very hard climb up Kala Patthar (18,200 ft) , I was just exhausted.  Knowing that the descent on icy rocks would be harder, even dangerous, when fatigued, I asked our Sherpa guide to help lead the way.  He was only glad to help.  I made it back safely!

5    5.)  Sing even if you don’t know the words.

a.     Express your joy in any way you can.   Don’t be constrained by perfection or the lack of or even if someone doesn't like your singing!!

6    6.)  Recognize beauty in every step.

a.     There is beauty in a snow covered mountain, an orchid near the ground, a yak bell‘s rhythmic sound, eagles gliding overhead, the bright colors of prayer flags flapping in the wind …. All are beautiful in their own way.  Don’t miss the chance to see things in their authentic and simple beauty.

7    7.)  Remember why you are here.

a.     It is so easy to forget the purpose of your journey especially when difficulties arise.

b.     When you stop and remember why you have embarked on such a trip and traveled half way around the world, clarity will come.

8    8.)  Be in and enjoy every moment.

a.     This moment will never come again.  All your senses are at attention only at this moment.  No picture or tale will ever capture it again as it was so truly see it, breath it, smell it, feel it and taste it.  Savor every second until it becomes part of who you are.

9    9.)  Be humble and gracefully allow others to pass.

a.     Sometimes ego gets in the way and we may not want others to succeed.  Letting people pass does not diminish who you are and what you are setting out to accomplish.  Who knows … they may remember your act and help later in your journey…possibly when you need it most.

1  10.) Help if another has a heavier load.

a.     Everyone has too heavy a load to bear at times.  When you see relief in their eyes as you ease their burden, you know you have done a good thing.

1  11.) If you fall, figure out why and do what you can to not fall again.

a.     Falling several times in one day, one would think I would have learned a lesson.   It took our lead guide to remind me to use my trekking poles that were safely strapped on my day pack.  It was simply amazing that I never fell again after heeding his advice.

1  12.) Even the weak are stronger then you are.

a.     It is humbling to see a young Sherpa boy, half my size in flip flops carry five times the load I was carrying over narrow, bolder strewn trails.  This mental and physical toughness was witnessed over and over again.   I never felt so weak in my life.

1  13.)  No matter how fast you go, the end is the same.

a.     Each day of the trek, there was a start and a finish.  It didn’t matter what day.  Some might have been longer but always a start and a finish.  It was amazing to me that when I was lagging behind, “smelling the roses”, I always reached the camp soon after those who hurried to get there.  Go figure.

1  14.)  The journey of exploration is often more satisfying then reaching the summit

a.     Read the wonderful poem,  “Ithaka”, by Constantine P. Cavafy and you will understand.

1  15.)   A smile is welcoming in any language.

a.     Not much more to say then a sincere and warm smile opens many doors in any culture.

1  16.)   It is good to remember those you love and those you lost.

a.     As I experienced all the marvels of my trip, I often wanted to share what I have experienced with those I love.  I also wished those that I lost would be there too with me.  The joy and wonder I felt wasn’t just for me but for all those who made me and enabled me along the way.

I think sixteen lessons learned are enough except for one final ….. Sherpas rule!!!

Namaste!!

Poof!!

“Now you see it, now you don’t” is a typical introduction a magician in a traveling carnival might say while making a coin, rabbit or beautiful assistant disappear.

How about “we’ll miss you and best of luck in your new job”?

I recently experienced a disappearing act when I left my somewhat secure position at a large academic medical center to join another healthcare organization.

To make my disappearing act even more “stupendous”, I loaded up my covered wagon with all my modern day essentials and headed west to the Colorado territory leaving my Chicago home of 25 years.  “ Wagons ho!”

On that first expedition (aka interim living) my packing list resembles that of Noah’s ….. two plates, two bowls, two folks, two knives, two towels … you get the picture.   Except my manifesto included an iMac and an iPhone.  How did Noah survive without either!!

Then weeks later with the help of two burly guys and a truck, all the contents of my apartment simply vanished leaving only the imprints of my furniture legs in the carpet and patches of dust I should have cleaned years ago. 

It was interesting to see my life segmented into cartons, meticulously itemized in boxes labeled “kitchen”, “living room”, and “master bedroom”.   My life-in-a-box … passing before me as the movers loaded them one by one onto a truck …. as I might add …. rather indifferently.  Didn’t they know what each of those treasures safely cocooned in miles of white packing paper meant to me?   

Then there was the office I spent nine years cluttering with vital, top secret documents, some what organized files, multi-colored post-it reminder notes and dusty personal affects ……. all disappeared too.  Locking the door behind me for the last time, I looked back only to see empty bookcases and, for once, a clean desk.    Maybe that stuff wasn’t so mission critical after all!

I thought of those that witnessed my disappearance and the finality of their hugs and handshakes as if they knew my reappearance was doubtful.

I also thought of those who weren’t able to see me disappear.  Might they be wondering why I am not answering the phone, returning emails or seeing me in the halls or at meetings?  Maybe, maybe not.

And what of those I often encountered on the programmed paths I traveled daily….. the train conductor, my dry cleaner.   When will it dawn on them that my absence was not temporary.  (See Familiar Strangers, August 20, 2010).

How about my old friends, favorite haunts and familiar surroundings that I will be missing?  They as well disappeared before my eyes.

What will never disappear is how much all I left behind meant to me.  Each and every person I encountered and moment I experienced over the past twenty-five years shaped who I am and gave me the confidence to enter that magician’s black box, not knowing what awaited me on the other side. 

When one disappears, one has to understand these things.  I am not sure, I fully did.

Now I know how that nervous little rabbit might have felt … nose twitching, pretending not being afraid.  Indeed!

Poof!!!!   “Now you see him, now you don’t”!

Fear of Falling

Unbeknownst to many, on my fiftieth birthday I experienced my first "shugyo". What the heck is a "shugyo", you might be asking. Although it sounds like a maki roll, it means so much more.

In feudal Japan when samurai ruled that space in time, a samurai would venture out from time to time on a "shugyo"..... a time of extreme austere training. It would have been on a day of personal importance such an anniversary of a meaningful event. On that day, without notice or fan fare, he would leave his home and family to test his skills as a warrior. Those skills would obviously involve wielding a katana (aka samurai sword) but also this was a test of his spirituality, mental toughness and physical strength. They would endure many trials and hardships, pushing their limits and ultimately discovering what they were truly made of. If they made it back, they were pretty darn good!

Anyway .... In modern times, we too test our selves (or should). We don't go around picking fights with the guy in the next cubical or abandoning our day job without notice to wander off into the wilderness. As tempting both might be, we instead do more time appropriate and socially acceptable challenges like running a marathon, climbing a peak, changing careers, moving across country, etc.

My shugyo, exactly five years ago, was to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I had the opportunity to learn about skydiving from a friend who trumpeted the euphoric feeling of free falling and then floating thousands of feet above ground. It certainly sparked my spirit of adventure and at the same time created an incredibly queasy feeling in my stomach. A rational person would say .... "Sounds like fun but no way". To me ..... it was to be my perfect shugyo. What an ideal way to face my fears, muster courage and test my limits!

So on the morning of July 21, 2006, my fiftieth birthday ... I left my house early in the morning without fan fare and notice, went off to a small grass covered airfield in rural Illinois. After a brief lesson and two or three trips to the bathroom, I was strapped tightly into a harness, introduced to my tandem partner, and entered a small plane with it's two propellers whirling. The deafening engine noise was masking the pounding of my heart.

Off we went into an extremely steep climb, quickly flattening out after reaching proper altitude. I was among experiences skydivers and a few other tandems. The pro's were joking around but us fledgling baby birds were just a little bit nervous about leaving our nests for the first time. My tandem skydiver joined in the kidding torelieve a little of my stress but even in his clowning there was a clear serious nature about checking harnesses andgoing over Safety instructions. We were ready.

As we reached 14,000 feet, the signal was given to stand and approach the now opened door. Just like in those WWII movies, we lined up like paratroopers, ready to jump into battle. The experienced skydivers couldn’t wait and, with ear-to-ear grins and carefree abandon, quickly jumped one after another shrinking in size as they fell. For me, it was an eerie feeling ..... wind blowing, staring out at the patchwork fields below, feeling the vast nothingness of space and knowing that the only thing between me and thehard ground was that open door ..... but there I was ...... toes over the edge.

In a tandem jump, you are securely fastened toan experienced skydiver on your back. My guy was a scrappy Brit named Jacko. Besides being there for your survival, he was there to "help" you take that first step into thin air.

Out we went. Remembering my instructions of arching my back, legs bent at the knee and arms out .. I was in free-fall. Oddly enough the fear was totally gone, replaced by an incredible sense of freedom and serenity. The only hint of falling was the images on the ground quickly getting bigger. It was an incredible feeling. With the cool wind noisily rushing all around me, I was screaming with excitement and exhilaration. We dropped 4,000 feet in one minute. At 10,000 feet, I was too distracted to pull the ripcord so my partner did, thankfully. We gracefully floated in contrasting silence to the ground where I made an albatross-like landing. My "shugyo" was over and concluded with high fives and a manly hug from Jacko.

I was reflecting upon my experience over a cold beer at a nearby bar that offered discounts to us skydivers. The realization was that all the fear and anxiety I felt was driving to the airfield, strapping on the harness, enduring the steep accent in that noisy, prop plane and, most of all, standing at the open door with my toes overthe edge, gazing into the unknown.

Once I was out, there was no feeling of falling but only the joy of facing my fears and knowing that I successfully completed my first "shugyo". I felt alive... in many ways.

The moral of the story? ........ You can figure it out.