Remembering and forgetting

Mt Baker from Goose Rock trail

A couple of years ago, I took this picture of Mt Baker while descending from a hike up to the top of Goose Rock on Whidbey Island. It is near the Deception Pass State Park, and it was, as you can see here, a gorgeous day in mid-February. We do have plenty of rainy days in the winter, and even some snow now and then, but we also get days like this one right in the middle of winter. Right now, the East Coast is experiencing a "polar vortex," bringing cold, ice and snow to a huge region, but we in the Pacific Northwest are being spared, for the moment at least.

It's only a few days into the new year, and I spent some time reminiscing with SG about years past. I had forgotten some of the exciting times we had together on New Year's Eve. One that is a vivid memory, once it was dredged up from a dark corner of my mind, was ringing in the new year with a skydive at midnight. I think I did this more than once, but the memory that emerged was of me standing in the door of a Beech-18 with my fellow skydivers, waiting until we reached the drop zone and peering out into the darkness. I'm pretty sure my heart rate was way up there, helping to make the moment stand out in my memory. 

I went into our bedroom and looked through the many logbooks from my skydiving career. Whenever I made a jump, I recorded it into a special Parachutist logbook, of which I have many, covering my more than 4,000 skydives. I found this entry about a particular jump:

Jump #869, 12/31/93—1/1/94, Skydive Colorado, A/C Beech-18, 55-second delay, exit at 13,000 ft. Six skydivers built a round and then whooped and hollered until pull time. Exited the plane at: 11:59:47.

 While we were flying to altitude in that rusty old Beech-18, I remember the jumpmaster pointing out the drop zone, with the runway illuminated and cars lined up with their headlights pointing in the direction where we would land. Usually you land with the wind in your face, but in a situation like this, it was more important (since the wind was negligible and you couldn't see the windsock anyway) for us all to fly a set pattern to the ground and not get in each other's way. We had a full moon, or close to it, also giving us needed light to orient us. We wore glowsticks so that we could see each other in freefall. I had completely forgotten about all this, until I brought it back by reading that log entry. I also read about some other forgotten jumps, but these days I can only read such stuff by using a magnifying glass and a light, so once I found what I was looking for, I stopped.

That was more than thirty years ago, too. When I think of how much I've forgotten that still hangs out in my brain, until something activates a memory, they are simply interesting facts from a bygone era. 

Me landing at sunset in Eloy, AZ

That picture was taken in the early 2000s by a famous skydiving photographer. He presented it to me the next day as a gift, and I loved it immediately and still look at it now and then. It's interesting that my skydiving days are in the distant past, but they still give me great pleasure to remember them. And although those days are over, I am still hiking in the mountains, which I have consistently done during the sixteen years since we moved here, but they too are beginning to begin to drift into the past. I am attempting much easier hikes these days, but I will probably go at least one more time to Goose Rock with the Senior Trailblazers. It's moderate in difficulty and distance, and I've made that trip to Deception Pass numerous times with them.

What seems to be in my future excitement falls into volunteering. I've said it before, but it bears repeating: giving my time to activities at the Senior Center that elevates the quality of our days is well worth it. I never fail to leave the lunchroom after my three-hour shift without a smile on my face and a pocket full of gratitude and thanks. 

Life is good for this octogenarian, and I feel so very grateful for my continued ability to post here, to read all the comments you leave for me, and to visit my virtual family who lives all over the world and shows me what's possible if I will step out of my comfort zone and take a step into the unknown.

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched; they must be felt with the heart. —Helen Keller

With that wonderful quote from Helen Keller, who overcame so much by stepping into the unknown without sight or hearing, I am encouraged to keep going forward for as long as I can. And I hope that you, my dear readers, will find ways to keep yourself engaged and involved in this beautiful world, for as long as you wish. My dear partner still sleeps quietly next to me as I finish up this post, and I move into the next part of my morning. John will be here in just over an hour, so I need to get up and do my exercises and spend a brief time in meditation before then.  Until we meet again, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.