Yes, that was a good day.

Somewhere, there is an old pair of boots.

I remember the day I got them. I was so proud of those old boots. I spit shined them until I could shave in their reflection. I needed those boots for my first jump out of a perfectly good aircraft, knowing it was going to land all along. Yes, I needed those boots. Even though those boots were older than I was, I loved those old boots.

Zero dark thirty just outside Columbia, Georgia and my boots are shining in the moonlight. We board the C-123 aircraft. I was thinking that this plane is older than me too. It was only a ten minute flight to the drop zone in Alabama, no time to rethink this paratrooper thing. Stand up, hook up, check equipment and stand in the door. The sun is rising and the sky is grey. We wait for the light to turn from red to green. The next moment the light changes and all you hear is "Go, Go, Go". As the wind slaps my face I look overhead to ensure my chute opened up. Next I look down to make sure my shiny boots are still on my feet. I pull on the left riser trying to turn my chute into the wind. 22 seconds later my old boots are covered with Alabama red clay. Damn, I am pissed.

Later that day I clean my boots and shine them back up. All in all it was a good day. I got my jump wings and my Dad's boots got to fly.

Yes, that was a good day.