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Just a few years ago, I felt that my dreams of returning to flying were over. I had gotten my private-pilot license in the ’90s, but life got in the way, so I had not been flying for more than 20 years.
November 2, 1968, was a beautiful clear Saturday. I had just turned 19 and was a 145-pound freshman at the University of Houston when I went to the Galveston Skydivers in Dickinson, 30 miles away.
I have always been shy and introverted. I was a quiet kid, and I grew into an even quieter adult. In college, my introversion escalated into social anxiety.
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