You Just Go Out the Door

September 4th, 2014  |  Published in this mortal coil

I’m on the “guesser” side of the cultural divide, I hate saying “no,” and it’s really hard for me to give people difficult feedback. I think most people who know me know all that.

Here’s something I remind myself of when I’m gifted with an opportunity to see that I’m heading for that territory:

I spent two years on jump status at Ft. Bragg. I wasn’t a super active jumper. I did the ones they told me to do to stay on active jump status and I went to a few weekend “fun jumps” early on. It got harder and harder to jump the closer I got to getting out; maybe because the stories of people being crippled or killed on a jump stack up the longer you’re listening for them, maybe because thinking about going home meant I also had to think about my future a little more. Either way, whatever for, it started getting scary.

So, there was this one sergeant — one of the jump masters — who didn’t think much of me. He’d let me know about it every once in a while. One afternoon he decided to make a thing about jumping:

“You’re such a fucking pussy. I saw you on that last jump, all tight-faced and afraid. Didn’t want to jump, did you?”

“No, sergeant.”

He laughed and hooted. “Called it! Called it! He even admits it. Fuckin’ scared.”

“But I jumped, sergeant. I’m scared every time, but I always jump.”

“Yeah. I guess you do.”

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