Sky Diving

During my son's senior year of high school, I was introduced to the sport of sky diving. Although I'm not sure why they call falling a sport; maybe the landing part is the sport.

Regardless a half dozen people in my office, including some girls arranged for a club from Spearfish  to jump in Pierre. Not to be outdone I asked my son if he'd be interested in this "bonding" experience.

He agreed and I signed us up. Their jumpmaster packed the chutes, so training the day before was relatively brief.  Jump out, count to ten; look up and if you don't have a good chute, pull the right ring to cut the main chute, then pull the left ring for the reserve chute. i'm wondering just how bad it would have to be before I'd cut that first chute.

When you land, flare the chute and keep both legs together.

I watch the plane go up, people jump and land and know I'll do the same. Nothing to fear till we circle up about a mile and I'm  reminded of Paul Lynde on Hollywood Squares, when they asked him, "How high do you have to be to sky dive?" He answered, "Oh , five or six stiff ones should work for me."

When it's my turn, the jumpmaster opens the door, wind swirls through and my heart jumps to my throat. He says, "Come sit in the door and put your feet on the wheel.  Now grab the struct and walk out to the tape mark with your hands. When we're over the jump zone, I'll signal and you let go."About this time, I notice that the strap to my chute is attached only by a velcro strip, but I realize its only purpose is to pull out a hankercief-size chutethat pulls out the main chute.

I count to ten, look up, see a good chute, say "Hallelujah!" and start singing "The Ballad of the Green Berets" as I flew back and forth in the direction of a big orange arrow that the ground crew used to direct me to the landing spot. When I was five feet off the ground, I pulled both steering rings, the chute flared and it was like stepping off a chair.

Something everyone should do once.

MY BLACK BELT TEST

Karate involves the three K’s: Kihone (the basics of kick, punch, block), Kata (choreographed forms of a pretend fight sequence), and Kumite (or free sparring with headgear, hand and foot pads).

During the morning, I was tested on the first two of the three K’s.

These were a mere warm up since our classes regularly consisted of a hundred kicks, punches and blocks, and often a hundred pushups and sit-ups

After a light lunch, I began the Kumite portion of the test with my eight classmates.

First, I sparred with each individually scoring a single point against each; then four matches of two against one, where I had to score a point against one of them. This was not terribly difficult since I was allowed to throw one into the other.

Finally, I was told that for the last part of the test I would have to defeat my head sensei or instructor, a big bald friendly Midwesterner named “Murph”. As the match started, I leapt across the mat with a shout and a head-level punch that he easily deflected. For a few moments, we exchanged punches, kicks and blocks, till he threw an immense round house kick that I fortunately blocked with both arms, though the momentum knocked us both down. Sitting on the mat, he put his arm around my shoulders and said,” I’ll tell you a secret. You don’t have to beat me to pass this test. In fact, the only way you don’t pass now, is if you walk out.” The tears started running down my cheeks, mostly from the adrenaline burn off.

Later, as I tested my own students, I realized the rationale of such rigorous testing. First, what we achieve too easily, we esteem too lightly and we want every student to remember this test with pride. Secondly, the instructor does not want to be embarrassed by a talented student, so it is better that the student is a little exhausted and perhaps a little slower.