Live Like I'm Dying?

My oldest son recently asked if I'd take him skydiving. I'd been heard to brag I would jump from a plane if someone did it with me, but I was sure no one in my family would press the issue. Until now. David Jr. (21) is ahead of me (55) on his bucket list. The Tim McGraw song, "Live Like You Were Dying," sunk into his philosophical genes at an early age.  He was nine when the song debuted.

I booked a date in October and we drove an hour north of Birmingham on a bright autumn Friday, laughing nervously and listening to Lee Ann Womack sing "I Hope you Dance" and Keith Urban sing "John Cougar, John Deere, and John 3:16." We live close to Nashville, home to some of the best modern-day philosophers monetizing their gifts as song writers. 

Two rules for a successful tandem jump: don't grab your instructor's hands; and, lift your legs when you slide into a landing. Looking courageous on video involves two other guidelines: smile (so your face won't flap as much as you freefall at 120 mph), and never death-grip the door (not a moment worth capturing).  When my time came, I was more excited than nervous.

It was an absolute BLAST.  My younger son wants to go so we're heading back to Skydive Alabama the day after Thanksgiving. Even my wife says she'll give it a whirl.  Reminder: You are never too old to try something new, even something as outrageous (and exhilirating) as skydiving.