The Formative Years

My essential need for speed, that incredible sensation of blurred motion, was nurtured early in life.

My father's shoestring relation by marriage, Carl Sisskind, along with my grandfather, Harvey Lippincott, landed a Cessna 172 unannounced on State Highway 14 in front of our house one warm, sunny Sunday in February 1955. They taxied into our yard and before Carl left he had convinced my parents to let a five-year-old boy and his seven-year-old brother Jerry make a 70-mile return flight to Kearney, Nebraska. Carefully hoisted into the backseat, my brother Jerry and I were buckled in. Carl did his run-up in the driveway and then taxied toward the highway as my parents watched from the yard. When he was sure that the road was clear of traffic, he rolled onto the two-lane blacktop, and we took off to the north, away from the power lines.

We accelerated at a fantastic rate and when it seemed we could go no faster, we began to float in the air. My heart raced with the increase in altitude; it was fantastic! I couldn't take in everything at first in the three-dimensional adventure. The view from above was so unusual that I wanted more. From a bird's-eye view, I recognized most of the neighboring countryside. I had just "slipped the surly bonds of earth," for the very first time! This adventure remains one of my most memorable and life altering to this day.

The big blue Midwestern sky was clear of clouds, and the wind was calm. My nose was riveted to the plexiglass window on the left side in the back seat behind the pilot-in-command. It was truly exciting to see how small the cars on the highway appeared and that the farmhouses and barns all seemed miniaturized but still very real. The topography was laid out in an organized fashion and the roads stretched like guitar strings to the horizon. The rolling incredible vast expanse of farmland patchwork was the very essence of the Midwest. From my seat, I believed that I could see the "whole world" as never before. It looked more like a giant sized 3-D map of infinite dimensions.

At that moment the seed of flight was planted in me. I knew that someday I would take flight as the sole pilot at the controls. In less than the one hour that the trip took, I was captivated by the idea of aviation and all things related. The fact that my older brother was throwing up in the seat next to me did nothing to dampen my experience.

I remember my grandfather turning around in his seat, smiling with satisfaction and patting my knee with his huge warm but soft hand. Then our cross-country flight came to an abrupt halt when we started our descent to the airport. The airplane seemed to stand still when at altitude, but closer to the ground, I could tell that we were moving very fast. Then I saw the runway approaching as a blur; seconds later, I heard the sound of the tires chirping as they first touched the concrete. The ride was over but, my brain was still cataloging all the new information: The view, the machine, the pilot's effortless actions, the sensations of acceleration, flotation, and seemingly motionless, just sitting in the air. Wow, that was a lot to take in for a five-year-old.

After we had landed in Kearney, Harvey and Carl drove us to the Greyhound Bus Depot in the back of a red 1950 Studebaker pickup truck. We were deposited there after lunch to wait for the next bus that would take us back to Central City. Alone and unsupervised, we were still in a state of overwhelming amazement and giddy excitement. To experience my first airplane and a bus ride at age five wasn't bad for a Sunday in Nebraska! That was truly exciting stuff and the genesis of my unending desire for exploration and adventure — a voyage that has lasted a lifetime.

In October 1957, I stood in my pitch-dark yard looking up at the night sky and got my first glimpse of the Russian satellite, Sputnik, as it crossed the Milky Way slightly to the south from West to East. It was awe-inspiring! I will never forget the way my realization of a manmade 23-inch sphere in orbit made me feel and the fact that we could hear it beeping on our radio. How could a gadget launched from Earth look like a star and stay in the sky night after night? Although Sputnik only continued to circle the earth for the next three months, it crossed the night sky every 93 minutes and was traveling at a colossal rate of 18,000 mph. This was the beginning of the space age, and it was like nothing man had previously embraced. It was thrilling, and I wanted to be part of it. I started hyperextending my neck as a kid, looking up at fluffy clouds, airplanes, contrails, and nighttime satellites. I was, as many had been before me, fascinated with flight.

America responded to the launch of the infamous Russian satellite. Werner Von Braun, the Father of Rocket Science, was employed by the United States Government to help us gain an edge in our ballistic missile design. Tasked by President Kennedy, we fully embraced the Space Race and were right in the middle of the Cold War.

On May 25, 1961, President John F. Kennedy stood before Congress and proclaimed that "this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before the decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the Earth."

My personal parachuting journey actively started at a very...