PurpAnd

Last year about this time I was in Seattle trying to get a group together for a bungee jump outing. I figured as I turned 29 I could go a little crazy and strap myself to a big rubber band and drop off a bridge. I also thought that if I could do that at 29, I could get really nuts and throw myself out of an airplane at age 30. Well, the bungee didn’t happen last year, but I am not that disappointed about it… because the skydiving happened this year.

Last Saturday was a day that had been anticipated for over a year. After talking and planning, things finally worked out and I gathered a couple friends and we headed out to SkyDance just west of Davis.

Here’s how the day went down:

We arrived and the first thing the SkyDance staff did was take our money (they do this first for obvious reasons). They had us sign a slew of waivers and then put us into a room with all the other nutballs and adrenaline junkies. An instructor went over the waiver and then walked us through the jump from gear to climb to drop and then landing. We would be performing tandem jumps with other experienced instructors and since we were attached snugly at four points, we were along for the ride. Basically, as students in the tandem jump, we had three things to remember - arch our backs coming out of the plane, don’t ever grab for the instructor, and keep legs up at landing.

Once the training was over we were supposed to wait until our names were called to go in and gear-up. This wait lasted over an hour and the anticipation was awful. Once our names were called, we headed into the gear room to get fitted for our jumpsuits. Then, our instructors grabbed the container packs with the chutes and we headed out to the plane.

Here I am on my way out to the plane.

Still walking out to the plane. That’s my friend Shane on my right.

The plane was rather small, but was not completely full so there was enough room for our three tandems and three more solo jumpers.

Here’s a picture of the plane from the SkyDance website.

The climb to 13,000 feet was about 10 minutes long. To be honest, I was in minor freak out mode at this point and wish I could have enjoyed the plane ride more, but I couldn’t. When we reached altitude, the planed slowed and the back door opened up. One by one the jumpers left the plane and I was the last one out.

The first few seconds were the important part as far as the students were concerned. We need to arch to keep our bellies toward the ground. This would allow safe deployment of the ‘drogue’ which was deployed three seconds after we left the plane. The drogue is a small chute used for stabilization. As I looked across the horizon I could see Lake Berryessa and the Napa Valley. They say you can see the Golden Gate bridge on clear days, but it was a bit hazy this day.

The free fall was 60 seconds long and the fast air was super loud. We spun a few times so I could see all over the valley. I looked down and could see farm land everywhere, Davis, Woodland, and the airport where we came from (and were now hurtling toward at almost 200 feet per second). My instructor pulled the chute out at 5,000 feet, quickly slowing us from 120 mph to about 30 mph. That was tough on the ol’ Milo and Otis.

Sitting underneath the canopy was a completely different experience. In fact, it was actually scarier than the free fall. See, in free fall you eventually reach terminal velocity and it almost feels like you aren’t falling anymore. But with the canopy deployed and the instructor pulling Gs and stalling out a bit, you definitely realize you are suspended in the air… and still pretty high up. However, it was much quieter and even serene.

The ride down to the ground was about five minutes long and as we came in for a landing, I kept my legs up and scooted to a stop on my butt. I’m actually a bit sore from this and think I might have bruised it a tad. I guess I need more junk in my trunk.

The feeling afterward is difficult to describe. The best way I can put it is a mixture of euphoria, disbelief, and relief.

A congratulatory greeting on the ground.

Success! That’s Shane on my left.

And the three of us, Lawrence, Shane, and I, with smiles ear to ear.

(Thanks to EJ for the pictures and stay tuned for video.)

I continue to relive the experience. I’ve been asked several times if have I crossed this off my list? Well, I crossed ‘get first skydive out of the way’ off the list. Not saying I will go again for sure, but the door will be left open. It was a blast and I’d recommend it to anyone who is looking for an adventure that is unlike anything else.

I turned 30 a couple weeks ago, but because I am a lazy blogger, I haven’t written about it until now.

Turning 30 wasn’t as traumatic as I thought it would be (although with my upcoming post someone could argue different). I spent the week enjoying meals with friends and family and being treated pretty darn well. But generally it was just another birthday.

The best thing about being 30 is the increased respect. A client asked me, “how old are you, to the nearest decade?” I said 30 and he was pleased. Think if I had said 20, would he have been as comforted? I just think that in your 20s you are expected to be inexperienced. In your 30s, you carry three decades of life with you and that is enough to warrant some respect.

Turning 30, however, came with the feeling of wanting to have accomplished many things. I felt like I needed to have so much done by the time I was 30. This was solely self-inflicted, but the pressure I felt was tough. Good thing is that it didn’t last long. Ha ha. During my birthday week, I thought about this a lot, but I eventually got over it and am working hard to have a one day at a time attitude.

My 30s start a new life for me. My divorce was finalized in April and I’ve got a blank slate now. I’m trying new things, broadening my interests, and paying attention to what I really like and what I don’t like. Baseball season is in full swing and I’m enjoying my Christmas present to myself - a mini pack of season tickets to the River Cats right here in Sacramento. I’ve achieved my financial advisor licenses and have acquired a book of business from a mentor who recently retired. The business is slowly growing (cuz I’m still working full time), but I really like working in this advisor capacity. I’m running and working out again now that my knee is healthy (or somewhat healthy) and have already run in a 5K event with the next one in SF in July. So far being 30 has treated me well and I’m encouraged. But, if it weren’t for what I learned and experienced in my 20s and before, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

I’ve written before about how important my family and friends are to me and you can read one of the pieces here. I was reminded how great my family is the other day while reading a note from my aunt on her Twitter account. She and my uncle drove down to Florida for a vacation last week. My aunt posted that my uncle ‘drove 2,847 miles on this trip to FL and brought us home safely once again!’ I liked this for a couple reasons… One, my uncle did a heck of a lot of driving with nary a complaint, and two, my aunt appreciated this enough to make a public comment.

I have no clue whether my uncle enjoyed the driving, although I suspect he did. It’s the kind of thing I would enjoy (traveling with a loved one through gorgeous parts of the country) so I am projecting a bit. I am impressed that my uncle motored their car nearly 3,000 miles given he’s more used to handling boat oars these days, and I’m impressed that my aunt was tickled by the fact that my uncle completed his version of Cannonball Run. But, what impresses me most is that these two still act this way after nearly 40 years of marriage. Inspirational.

My aunt has said on occasion that the Burger Boys - meaning my uncle and his two brothers, including my dad - are a solid bunch. (Not sure solid is the word she uses, but you get the picture). As a group, the three Burger Boys are some of the smartest, kindest, and funniest people you can be around. When together at family reunions these three settle into old routines and its like watching a seasoned comedy team. Believe me, The Cousins (which is what I call my generation’s cohort) get the biggest kick out of their shenanigans every time, even though we have seen most of it before.

One story that gets told often stars one of my uncles as the Babysitter and my dad as the Troublemaker. They were eating popcorn and my dad decided he’d make a huge mess, and tossed popcorn all over the floor. My uncle, wanting to run a tight ship while the folks were out, asked my dad to clean up the mess. Dad refused so my uncle escalated the situation. Grabbing the collar of my dad’s shirt and the belt above his backside, my uncle hovered my dad over the popcorn on the floor like a Hoover Vac, yelling at him to suck it up. Now, I suspect that parts of this story are exaggerated, but I don’t care. It’s a classic Burger Boy story.

The somewhat flip side to this story is the outpouring of compassion I received from both of my uncles and my dad when I shared I was going through divorce. I’m not much of a phone talker, and given I wanted to share the news to all family at once, I used email. The email responses I received from the Burger Boys were some of the most empathetic and encouraging emails I’ve ever read. It was just what I needed and it helped me along in a time when I felt stuck and without direction.

I provide these examples because I feel they are important characteristics in being a ‘good man.’ A good man supports his family with laughter and love as much as he does with strength and shelter. I’ve struggled with finding the right balance, but feel I am getting close to knowing where that is. My dad once said, ‘when he grows up, he hopes to be just like me,’ which is a tremendous compliment, but silly in that it’s circular logic because I want to be like him… I want to be a Burger Boy because I like how they roll.

A few years ago I went river rafting with some friends down the American River here in Sacramento. It’s a leisurely summertime activity and usually involves a huge rented raft, a cooler, and a whole bunch of friends. Our event was no exception.

We headed up the hill late one Saturday morning in June and picked up our 8-person raft. We were set with food and refreshments and carried it all down the beach trail to the water. After stripping down (just a little), applying sunscreen, and loading up, we drifted our way out into the main stream.

It was a crowded day on the river with many rafts pulled off to the side picnicking and partying. As we came around a bend into an open area we noticed a whole bunch of groups parked along the riverbank. One group in particular caught our attention…

A small group of 3 or 4 guys were huddled around a goose in the water. One guy thought he’d be cool and throw something at it, then another guy had to escalate the situation so he picked up a rock - about the size of a basketball - and tossed it at the goose. Ass. Well, he hit it and the goose began to flail. Seeing this horrible display, one of my friends (an assistant district attorney and a rural California native) jumped out of the raft and swam to these neanderthals to give them a piece of his mind.

Upon arriving at the goose, he picked it up and carried it over to the rock-chucker. He said you need to be a man and put this goose down. The guy refused. This made things worse and the two got into a shouting match.

The other guys did not like this one bit so they came charging toward my friend. This sparked the protective response in two of us in the raft and we jumped out to come to our friend’s aid. It was a bit of a trek, through water and over rocky shoreline, so by the time I arrived at the group, (a good 50 yards from where I had lept out of the raft), our assistant DA friend was back in the water floating downstream, my other friend was being chased into the river, and I was surrounded by three guys - one of whom didn’t waste any time and clobbered me right in the face.

I was knocked off my feet and into the water. My sunglasses were shaken from my head (I ended up losing them). As I was kneeling face down in the river, he continued to punch me in the back of the head until I finally got smart and yelled, “that’s enough!” Once the pummeling stopped, I rose out of the water and noticed about 30 people staring at me. I had been in a fight, got whooped in a hurry, and never even threw a punch. Manly, eh ladies?

Shaking from the adrenaline, I made my way back to our raft and we cruised for a bit until we saw a police officer standing up on the levy (we never did find out if he was there in response to our episode). We pulled out of the water and gave the whole story to the cop. We waited, waited, and waited some more for this group of guys to come by, but they never did. We got back in the raft and tried to have a good time the rest of the way, but it was difficult. Hard to ignore an episode like this. Once we reached the end, we waited again, but still, these guys didn’t show. Perhaps they left their raft and ran off, or maybe they took it with them. In any case, they did not finish on the river that day.

After it was all said and done, I was bruised and slightly bloodied, and there was no one to take the blame. I had made a poor choice to get involved and I had to learn the hard way. I earned no merit badge for fighting (although you could argue I earned a merit badge in punching baggedness), and I was extremely embarrased and emasculated in front of my friends.

Few people know this story, only those who were there that day, but I figured it was time to share. I learned a lot from this experience… 1) if you’re gonna back someone up, make sure they are there still when you arrive, 2) don’t approach a gang with an aggressive look on your face, 3) don’t try to take the law into your own hands, 4) mind your business as much as possible, and most importantly 5) I am not as scary/intimidating as I think I am.

I was extremely saddened by what these guys did to that bird, I was angered that they wouldn’t do the humane thing (after being so inhumane), and I was embarrased when I got my butt kicked. When it comes to my friends though, there isn’t much I won’t do… and that includes taking a few punches.

What can I say about 2009? Not my favorite year, but there are some good things to be taken from it. I’ll leave it at that and open my eyes, heart, and mind for good things to reach me in 2010. Happy New Year everyone.