"Who packs your parachute?"

Charles Plumb, Capt., USN (Ret) flew 74 successful combat sorties in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. In May, 1967, while flying number 75, his F-4 Phantom was hit by a surface-to-air missile and he spent the next 6 years as a POW with other now-famous guests like McCain.

Plato's Cave, meet Plumb's Parachute:

Recently, my wife Cathy and I were sitting in a restaurant. A man about two tables away kept looking at me. I didn't recognize him. A few minutes into our meal he stood up and walked over to our table, looked down at me, pointed his finger in my face and said, "You're Plumb." I looked up and I said, "Yes, sir, I'm Plumb." He said, "You flew jet fighters in Vietnam. You were on the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down. You parachuted into enemy hands and spent six years as a prisoner of war."

I said, "How in the world did you know that?" He replied, "I packed your parachute."

I staggered to my feet and held out a very grateful hand of thanks. I was speechless. This guy came up with just the proper words. He grabbed my hand, pumped my arm and said, "I guess it worked."

"Yes, sir, indeed it did," I said, "and I must tell you I've said a lot of prayers of thanks for your nimble fingers, but I never thought I'd have the opportunity to express my gratitude in person."

He said, "Were all the panels there?"

"Well, sir I must shoot straight with you," I said, "of the 18 panels, that were supposed to be in that parachute, I had 15 good ones. Three were torn, but it wasn't your fault, it was mine. I jumped out of that jet fighter at high rate of speed, close to the ground. That's what tore the panels in the parachute, it wasn't the way you packed it."

I didn't get much sleep that night. I kept thinking about that man. I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a navy uniform-- a dixie cup hat, a bib in the back and bell bottom trousers. I wondered how many times I might have passed him on board the Kitty Hawk. I wondered how many times I might have seen him and not even said good morning, how are you or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor. How many hours did he spend on that long wooden table in the bowels of that ship weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of those chutes, doing a standard (or even mediocre) job? I could have cared less...until one day my parachute came along and he packed mine for me.

So the philosophical question is "Who ís packing your parachute?" Everybody needs someone to pack their parachute. We all need that kind of support in time of need. We all need those who step out in front and say, "Yes, I'll help."

-SNIP- [a buch of good stuff]

You'll never be a prisoner of war, you'll never have to pace three steps one direction and then turn around and pace three steps the other. you'll never have to learn all of those codes. But, don't you see the similarity. Each of us has a choice. We have the choice to stand up and be counted for what we think is right. We have the choice to give of ourselves and pack those parachutes. We have a choice to be part of the team. When you get older and look back on your life, you don't count dollars, you count the parachutes you packed.

Six years is a long time to pace three steps one direction and three steps the other. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. And yet, I would tell you it's the most valuable six years of my life. Amazing what a little adversity can teach a person. It gives a man a pause to think, "How will I survive? What are the techniques of survival, what are the properties of a winner?î There's no bed of roses. You'll have some mountains to climb and some parachutes to pack and you'll have to tug on some wires along the way. You'll have to apply the faith, the commitment and the personal pride. But if you can put those basic principles together as part of your daily discipline you truly can do anything you set your mind to do."

And there's no such word as can't.

An amazing guy who, no surprise, titled his autobiography "I'm no hero."