Yesterday, we were guests at a 90th birthday party for Carole's aunt in Mt. Pleasant, Texas. There was wonderful conversation going on throughout the room. But I overheard an elderly gentleman talking about a parachute jump he had accomplished. This got me very curious and I was determined to speak with him.
I got him alone and asked him if this feat had occurred in World War II. (I'm almost obsessive about finding WWII veterans and expressing gratitude to them. We won't have them around much longer and don't give them the honor they deserve.) So I was assuming this elderly guy had perhaps parachuted over France or something. So, the conversation went something like this:
"Sir, I overheard you speaking about parachuting. Was this in World War II?
"No, I did this back when I was 90."
"Back when you were 90?"
"Yes. On my 90th birthday, I took my first jump. But it was a tandem jump. I was holding on to another guy."
"Have you jumped since?"
"Oh, no. Once was enough!"
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