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I am posting because somebody has added two year balloons to my screen name today, it took another year for me to find this board. I received this recently and verified it's accuracy with the source, it describes how I feel about every member of this board, the regulars, the lurkers, the newbies, the old hands and the recyclers.


Charles Plumb was a US Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.

One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!"

"How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb.

"I packed your parachute," the man replied. Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!" Plumb assured him, "It sure did. If your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today."

Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder 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."

Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know.

Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute? "Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory -- he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety. Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason.

As you go through this week, this month, this year, recognize people who pack your parachute. I am sending you this as my way of thanking you for your part in packing my parachute!!
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What a great post. Thank you for helping me see the important things in life.

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What a beautiful story:o)

Salt water filled my eyes. I am such a wuzz:o)

  .-'     `-.
:` .   .   . `:
:.` `.` `.` `.:
 \   \   /   /
  `\  \ /  /'
    `\ Y /'
      //     Kez
      \      ``
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Thank you for that thought provoking post. I always thought of myself as a person who supports others, both at home and at work. Up until now, I never thought about those who support me - in other words "Those who pack my parachute".

And there are many, including the super supportive people on this board. It's a whole new way to look at folks. I felt that I was always the giver, but after reading your story, I am prepared to recognize those who give to me every day!

Thanks for sharing this story.


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Thanks ED!

I needed that! And happy anniversary.

Bless you!!!

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Thanks for reminding me about everyone who has helped me. It's has been way too long since I have checked in. I really miss this board and all the friends I made here. Without all of you I would not still be fighting the fight. I couldn't have made it past the first couple of weeks. Now I'm watching the clock tick down to gold. If I remember correctly your quit started at the first of the year so your not far behind. I'll be looking forward to seeing everybody more often.


Eleven months, two weeks, two days, 10 hours, 51 minutes and 8 seconds. 10543 cigarettes not smoked, saving $1,581.53. Life saved: 5 weeks, 1 day, 14 hours, 35 minutes.
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Way to go on your upcoming anniversary! Everyone here, even when I'm reading silently with nothing much to contribute, has kept me grounded through the first year, and well into the second.

Ezra, tending to his chickens who, incidentally, look forward to being wrung, feathered, and fried in honor of this momentous occasion.

One year, three months, one week, three days, 10 hours. 6076 cigarettes not smoked, saving $866.00. Life saved: 3 weeks, 2 hours.
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