The sun shines brightly. There is not a cloud in the sky. It is a perfect day to be up in the sky. The flyer stands on a ledge gazing at the miniature trees and buildings on the ground below. He jumps headfirst from the safety of the platform, free-falling at rocket speed toward the earth. He shouts with excitement enjoying the chilly air rushing past him. For 60-seconds he rides the air currents–flipping, twisting, flying!
Former skydiver, Christopher Muss said, “The first time I jumped I was really scared. But, I had a great view of the landscape. I could see for miles around. Once you jump from an airplane, you never look at the world the same again. In fact, the first airplane I ever went on I jumped out of!”
A Little History
Skydiving is a popular modern-day sport. The idea of using a parachute to jump from lofty heights was developed hundreds of years ago by the ancient Chinese. While performing at the palace, acrobats, during the Han dynasty, would achieve falls from great elevations. To pull off this heart-stopping feat, they used something that resembled a parachute. Another notable contribution comes from the famous artist and inventor, Leonardo de Vinci, who sketched the first parachute design in 1485.
The first parachute ever made was a lot different from those we see skydivers using today. Some of the earliest had frames made of linen and wood. In 1797, French aeronaut, Andre-Jacques Garnerin, was the first to make a parachute without the typical rigid frame.
Using suspension lines, he attached a basket to a canopy, that was tied beneath a hydrogen balloon. A century later an American named, Tom Baldwin, made the first jump with a limp parachute, which used a trapeze bar instead of a basket.
Twenty-two years later, in 1919, another American named, Leslie Irvin, completed the jump that would change the sport forever. He used his hand-operated parachute during a free-fall jump. Irvin’s design helped skydiving become the sport it is today.
Initially, the military exclusively performed skydiving to save airmen during emergencies, and to transport soldiers to battle on the ground. After WWII it became much more mainstream when many returning soldiers kept at it and began holding contests.
It was finally declared a national sport in 1952. It received its official name a few years later, when a man named, Raymond Young, began using the term, “skydiver.”
Skydiving is not for everyone. Some people only jump once; others continue experiencing the thrill of fear, only falling through the sky can achieve. Christopher Muss said, “Once I landed I had an adrenalin rush that lasted for days. I couldn’t wait to get back up in a plane. So, I could jump again.”
How It’s Done
Before you jump, you must attend a 15-minute training class where you are shown how to cross your arms over your chest when jumping from an airplane. You are taught how an altimeter works. An altimeter is an instrument skydivers’ wear on their wrists, like a watch, it measures their altitude.
On your very first jump, you board a small airplane. You are attached to a professional skydiver who controls the opening of the parachute, as well as the landing; this is called tandem jumping.
Another important factor learned in skydiving is the weather. A first-time tandem jumper needs a sunny day with an average of ten miles an hour winds.
After this, you are harnessed to a professional tandem instructor and climb aboard the airplane. When the airplane reaches an altitude of 13, 500 feet, it’s time to jump. The instructor will say, “Ready, set, go.” After that, all that left to say is, “LOOK OUT BELOW!”
am a victim of debit card fraud. That’s right, my debit card…stolen, and it never left my wallet. According to my bank, the thief cloned my card, embedded it with a security chip, and got my pin number.
I was surprised when I heard this. I thought EMV cards were supposed to make card copying, virtually, impossible. I thought EMV cards changed the information on my card after each transaction, to prevent card skimming.
My card was linked to my bank account. The thief cleared out my checking account in a matter of hours. In two days, the thief had gone to two different post offices and purchased three money orders.
As you can imagine, I was upset. It’s unnerving, knowing someone has access to your money. I felt powerless and angry. To ensure my protection, I took all the steps that were recommended after an incident like this occurs.
I filed a dispute with my bank and a report with my local police station. The officer who took my statement told me that detectives would be in touch with me to follow up on the report.
Luckily, the bank assured me, that after a review by their claims department, I would get a refund of the full amount. It will take 7-10 days for the process to be complete. That was reassuring to hear.
However, during that time frame, I have bills pending payment. It’s comforting to know my money is insured, but the uncertainty about the security of my money has remained. If the statistics are accurate, credit card fraud happens to people, more than once during their lifetime.
In an attempt to be proactive, I researched tips on how to protect myself. I want to lower my chances of having this happen to my family or me again. Here are a few tips I learned:
Use a shredder for all bank statements, credit card statements, and checks.
Monitor your credit report, and bank accounts for any suspicious transactions.
Have mobile banking alerts sent to your smartphone.
Don’t use public computers to log into your email to correspond with your bank.
Only do business with credible online merchants and websites.
Check to make certain no one is looking over your shoulder when you are paying with your credit card.
Be careful where you go to eat.
Be aware of email phishing scams.
I have also decided to pay with cash for most purchases and use my credit card as a backup. I will no longer use my debit card.
I also froze my credit report, to prevent anyone from opening new accounts in my name.
I know that thieves are getting savvier at breaking into financial information systems. Taking these precautions helps me feel I have control over my personal information. It has also been a wake-up call. I have to be more aware of my surroundings and vigilant with whom I share my personal information with over the phone.
An entire day devoted to slacking off and getting nothing important done? InternationalGoof Off Day may sound like a waste of time, but that’s the point. In our fast-paced and hectic society, we all need a day to relax, unwind, and ignore our responsibilities.
On Thursday, March 22, 2018, you get a free pass to play hooky. (Unless you celebrated early and took additional time off it will get you in trouble at work or school.)
Although goofing off may seem easy, some of our most celebrated “Goofs” have worked hard to make us laugh. Robin Williams (1951 –2014), Eddie Murphy, Kevin Hart, Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg, Stephen Colbert, Jerry Seinfeld, Dave Chappelle, Kate McKinnon, and Chris Rock are just some comedians who have touched our lives with extravagant silliness, and we love them for it. On International Goof Off Day, we can all strive to be as deliberately carefree as these happy-go-lucky artists seem to be.
So whom can we thank for this jolly holiday? In 1976, 10-year-old Monica Dufour and her grandfather William Chase decided everyone needed a day dedicated to goofing off. A local newspaper heard about the idea and published an article on it.
If you’re stuck with nothing to do on International Goof Off Day, congratulate yourself for a job not done. If you’d like to seize the moment or go where the wind takes you, have a safe trip. If you’re looking for creative ways to goof off, here are eight suggestions:
Wake up late and don’t make your bed.
Eat dessert before dinner.
Watch television in your underwear.
Have a picnic at a park.
Fly a kite.
Visit a museum.
Take a hike.
Unplug from your electronic devices and listen to the surrounding sounds.
However, you choose to spend the laziest of days, make sure to have a ton of dippy fun!
To commemorate my family heritage and National Irish Month, I have researched the origins of a little potato candy that packs a tasty punch. For those of you who may not like potatoes, don’t fret. There are no potatoes in two versions of these delicious faux potato candies.
An Irish Potato is a coconut, cinnamon, sugary delight that originated in the city of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. They are a tasty Saint Patrick’s Day tradition that I have enjoyed since I was a child.
Every year in early March, my Italian grandmother (who married my Irish grandfather), would have the grandkids over for a day to make these little candies. I looked forward to it every year. What kid doesn’t like sugar and cinnamon at Grandma’s house? A lot of fond memories were made during these visits with my family and quite possibly a few cavities.
It is believed that Irish immigrants, living on the East Coast, were the first to make the creamy candy more than a 100 years ago. A typical Irish Potato is a bite-size, brown ball that resembles a regular potato, but is filled with a delicious blend of cream cheese, confectioners sugar, and coconut. Like many Philadelphians, I grew up unaware that Irish Potatoes were a local treat that isn’t shared by the rest of the country.
Although an obscure candy, Irish Potatoes have found their way to the west coast. Another variation is made by See’s Candies located in South San Francisco. They add a nougat-like mixture called divinity and nuts to their confection. A third version of the Irish Potato uses real mashed potatoes mixed with confectioner’s sugar, vanilla, and coconut.
If you’re one of those unfortunate people whose never heard of or tasted an Irish Potato, you’re in luck. I’ve found an easy Philadelphia-style recipe by Saundra on allrecipes.com for Irish Potatoes, no cooking is required.
Ingredients:
1/4 cup of butter softened
1/2 8 ounce package of cream cheese
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
4 cups of confectioner’s sugar
2 1/2 cups of flaked coconut
1 tablespoon of ground cinnamon
Directions:
Beat the butter and cream cheese in a medium-sized bowl until it’s smooth. Add the vanilla and confectioner’s sugar, beating the mixture once again until it’s smooth. Mix in the coconut. Roll the mixture into small balls, then roll in the cinnamon. Set the balls on a tray and chill in the refrigerator.
(Note: You may have to use your hands to mix the ingredients.)
Knights Templar, also known as the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon, the Order of Solomon’s Temple, or the Templars, are an extinct group of warriors, whose memory is shrouded in a myriad of myths and legends, which still grips the imagination.
So what exactly happened to the Catholic Military Order, who exercised financial authority over countless, prominent, royal houses and major capitals in Europe?
One of the many legends surrounding them indicates that their demise began in France, on the most notorious of all days, Friday the 13 in the year 1307. It is unclear if their destruction was a reckoning for insinuations of misuse of power or a political gamble.
What is known is that after they lost the Holy Land to the Muslims during the Crusades, their order’s entire existence came into question and lost support. Rumors sprang up about their secret initiation ceremonies, sewing seeds of doubt and mistrust.
One man who seized upon this opportunity was King Philip IV ‘the fair’ of France. He was indebted to the Templars and wanted to snag their great wealth for himself.
In 1307, King Philip IV had members of the order in France arrested. Once incarcerated, the knights were tortured mercilessly into giving false confessions of heresy, sodomy, and treason that were made public.
For seven years, the Templars were subjected to official inquiries and public executions, where hundreds were burned at the stake. Pope Clement tried to save the Templars but was unsuccessful.
Finally, after much pressure from the King of France, in 1312, at the Council of Vienne, Clement dissolved the Knights Templar and ordered all Christian monarchs to arrest the remaining members.
He also issued a Papal Bull giving the Templar lands to the Knights of Hospitallers. In March 1314, outside the Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral, Jacques de Maloy, the last Templar Master died, after retracting his confession.
The secrets and mysteries surrounding the Knights Templar have ignited colorful conspiracy theories and stories that still delight modern-day audiences. A few of the most popular are The Da Vinci Code, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and National Treasure.
***Trigger Warning: Article Contains Suicide and Drug Use***
On April 25, 1989, at 5:17 a.m., my father placed a handgun in his mouth, pulled the trigger, and ended his life. He was forty-five years old. His forty-sixth birthday was only twenty-three days away. My younger brother’s thirteenth birthday was only five days away.
Unlike some people, my father didn’t leave a note explaining to us why he wanted to take his life. So for years, ravaged by the guilt that ate us from the inside out, my family and I speculated on what caused him to commit such a violent act. We still don’t have an answer, and after twenty-nine years, I’ve accepted that we never will.
The lives of my family and I are changed. The trauma and turmoil that ensued were heartbreaking. At times, so painful, my younger brother turned to cold medicine to help him sleep at night. He also drank and smoked cigarettes. From there he experimented with street drugs for about ten years until he finally shot heroin.
The heroin was a game changer. It destroyed my brother’s entire life. He lost his high-paying job, his car, his daughter, and his self-respect. He became a recluse who tried many times to clean up his act. Like other addicts, he was in and out of rehab and mental hospitals. He also began the methadone program, but apart from keeping him high, it did nothing to help him get sober.
During this time, his mental health continued to deteriorate. He had severe anxiety, major depression, and chronic insomnia, who became his closest friends.
He struggled with these debilitating illnesses for many years. Ashamed of who and what he’d become, he cut himself off from his friends and I. Since my mother and my youngest brother lived with him, they were the only two people who saw him every day. They knew the true depth of my younger brother’s suffering.
In the early months of 2017, my younger brother and I reconnected. He wanted to reclaim his life and make a fresh start. He’d gotten off the methadone and had gone to therapy regularly. His therapist was helping him make plans to volunteer and learn a trade.
My brother and I hung out together. We watched movies and listened to music and talked for hours like we’d done when we were kids. At first, I was hesitant to let him back into my heart. I was afraid to let him get too close and lose him again. I’d spent years mourning his absence. During that time, he had overdosed several times, and I had quietly prepared myself for his death.
But, after two months of watching him fight through his struggles and make steady progress, I believed maybe, just maybe, he started living again. Unfortunately, that was not meant to be. On April 30, 2017, he celebrated his forty-second birthday. Hours later, on May 1, he relapsed and died of a drug overdose.
The biggest regrets I have about my father’s and brother’s deaths are I never got to say goodbye.
I wish I could offer advice on how to deal with the loss of a family through suicide and drug overdose, but like life, grieving is a process. I believe every death we experience teaches us a vital lesson about ourselves. My father’s death taught me I am resilient. My brother showed me that, while losing someone you love is sad, you can rejoice in knowing their suffering has ended.
If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255, text Crisis Text Line at 741-741, or call 911
Along with millions of other people, I believe the dead can speak to us. Anne Reith, Ph.D. and Preston Ni M.S.B.A. are two respected professionals who attest that our deceased loved ones communicate with us through “visitation dreams.”
Other ways the dead may communicate with us is through music, manipulating electrical devices, placing small, meaningful tokens, like coins or feathers, in our path, phone calls, or scenting a room with a familiar fragrance to their presence.
Experts agree that a visitation dream differs significantly from an ordinary dream, in that, the visitation dream feels real, vivid, and intense. Upon awakening, the dreamer feels a sense of peace and closure: and can remember the dream with clarity for the rest of their lives. They know in their heart of hearts that the visitation was authentic.
Despite the naysayers and the doubting Thomas’s, these types of dreams are commonplace. I know three people who have experienced visitation dreams: a former co-worker, my friend Mandy’s son, Simon, and myself.
Visitations: My Father
I have had many deceased loved ones communicate with me through my dreams. The first one to visit me was my father. When he was alive, he’d promised my mother that if there were a way to let her know there was life after death he would.
He visited me in 1990, about a year after he’d died. During the dream, I came upon him in a pitch-black space. Despite the darkness, I could see him. The area surrounding him was lit up like a person doing a video interview with a dark curtain behind them.
He was all alone, but he assured me that he wasn’t lonely. I could feel the peaceful atmosphere of the place, and this helped to reassure me that he was indeed okay; that being alone in this space wasn’t scary or a punishment. During our conversation, he didn’t look at me. He seemed content to gaze at the darkness in front of him. I guess he found solace in it. It made me feel a little out of sorts. I had never seen him so tranquil. I wish the tranquility had made me feel closer to him, but as in life, there was an emotional barrier between us. Something I guess we’ll deal with in another life.
My dad told me he wasn’t in heaven. Before he could get there, he had to go through different phases. I don’t know what the phases were. The way to gauge how close he was to completing the phases correlated to the souls that visited him in this black space.
At first, he would see people he vaguely knew, and then as he drew closer to the end of this process, he’d see acquaintances, followed by close family and friends. When a soul greeted him he was very close to in his life; he could pass through to heaven.
When I woke up, I knew the dream differed from others I’d had. It felt like I had a conversation with my father, where he had been an active participant, not a character acting out a role created by my subconscious. I couldn’t explain how I knew this. I just knew.
Visitations: Nora’s Father
The second visit was my friend Nora’s father. In this dream, I found myself in a lush green garden, seated at a white table, on a white wicker chair. My grandparents were also there. I waved to them from the opposite end of the long table, but that was the only interaction we shared. As I sat there, I realized that I was asleep, but I was aware and alert as if I were wide-awake. It was as if I had awoken to a new reality in my dream and I couldn’t stay long. I was anxious to hear the message Nora’s father had before I woke up.
I asked him if he had a message for Nora and he shook his head. I was confused. What was I doing there if not to pass on a message to my friend? It took me years to realize that I had asked her father the wrong question. His message was intended for someone else. Since I didn’t ask the right question, I couldn’t get the correct answer. This revelation helped me to accept a message from another loved one who died years later.
Visitations: Ben
In late August 2014, my friend Mandy’s younger brother Ben died. He came to visit me the earliest after dying. On September 20, 2014, I became aware of Ben walking into my room and sitting on a chair at my bedside. Again, once I became aware of what was going on, I had that same feeling of a time limit with my visitor. I knew not to ask Ben if his message was for Mandy or anyone else. I made the question general and simply asked, “What’s the message.”
Unlike my other visitors, Ben launched into a quick dialogue. He talked quick, and there was so much imagery in his message, more than I’d ever had from a visitor. I wrote down everything I could while in the dream, but I couldn’t remember everything when I woke up. There were too many fine details, and layers to the images for me to process. I felt terrible about that like I had let him down.
I spoke with Mandy the next day and told her everything. A few days later, her son, Simon, who did not know my dream, received a very similar message from Ben. Both messages told us not to worry, that he was sorry for leaving his daughter, and referenced phone calls. Weird!
On October 11, 2014, Ben revisited me. This time I found him alone in a kitchen. He appeared much less hurried in this dream as if he’d accomplished what’d he’d needed to for the time being and was in a sort of in-between-stage.
In contrast to my father’s calm acceptance of working through the phases, I felt that Ben was impatient to move quickly through them but had resigned himself to wait them out. I also believe he was mourning the broken physical connection to his daughter. He told me he wasn’t allowed to leave the kitchen but wouldn’t tell me why when I asked. Before he left, we hugged, and he told me that even though he was gone, we were still friends. This made me happy. After I woke up, I felt a sense of closure and acceptance toward Ben’s death.
That was the last visit I received from Ben. Now and then, Simon still gets a visit from his uncle and a great aunt who died when he was young.
Visitations: Mr. Malcolm
During another visit, I wound up in another kitchen. What is it with kitchens in the afterlife? This visitor was unexpected. I barely knew him, but he was close to my sister-in-law, a surrogate father of sorts named, Mr. Malcolm.
As is customary with some visitations, the familiar anxiety of a time frame descended upon me, and I asked Mr. Malcolm what his message was. He instructed me to inform my sister-in-law he was okay and that he was happy. Simple enough, until I told her.
As with Ben’s death, there was another strange occurrence in conjunction with Mr. Malcolm’s demise. My sister-in-law had visited a psychic a few months before my passing on Mr. Malcolm’s message. The psychic had informed her that she would receive a message from Mr. Malcolm soon. Cue the goosebumps!
Visitations: My Grandfather
After my aunt died, my grandfather visited me. She wanted my uncle to know she enjoyed the water where she was. In life, she had been afraid of water.
Visitations: My brother, Louie
Of all the deaths, the one that had the most substantial post-mortem activity was my brother Louie’s. My mother, my other brother and his girlfriend, and I all experienced some form of communication from him. I made a list of all the exciting episodes that happened right after Louie died.
*May 1, 2017: Louie died
*May 21, 2017: My bedroom light turned on by itself. In the eighteen years I lived in my house that had never happened—ever!
*June 2017:
My brother’s brand-new girlfriend saw a man lying on the floor. She described how Louie was found after his death. She also got locked in the bathroom three times that same day.
My mother’s dog shook uncontrollably at night while staring into the room where Louie slept.
My brother’s portable DVD player fell from his bureau.
My brother’s girlfriend heard someone dragging his or her feet across the rug.
While on hold, my brother heard Louie’s voice through the cell phone.
Lights turned on by themselves in my mother’s apartment.
My mother saw a shadow standing over her one night.
During this time, I could feel Louie’s presence, and then on June 19, 2017, he visited me while I slept, and the connection I felt to him was gone. In the dream, I was sitting on a chair, and someone tapped me on the back. Somehow, I knew it was Louie. I stood up and stepped through some type of curtain and saw his face. I can’t tell you how happy that made me. He looked so young, no more than twenty-two, and had a full head of hair. I touched his face and hugged him.
Unlike some of my other visitors, Louie didn’t talk very much. But, the imagery and activity level that accompanied his visit was over the top. There was no urgency of racing the clock in this dream, which was good because there was a lot to take in. We spent a considerable amount of time together. During this encounter, I felt like I was getting a brief, behind-the-scenes sneak peek of what’s behind the veil, and only registering those things I could see.
The most critical information I gleaned from the experience was that Louie had work to do. He was dressed in work clothes and led me to what I think was a workmen’s hall. He fell in line with a group of people headed for a utility door I surmised led to somewhere—beyond. With tear-filled eyes, I watched him step through the door, knowing he was fulfilling the tasks that were required of him.
As soon as I woke up from this dream, I was overcome with a profound sense of relief and closure. For weeks, I had been on edge, hoping that Louie would visit me, so I could say a final farewell before he was completely beyond my reach.
Not everyone in my family believes in my visitation dreams, and that’s okay. We all have our belief system. Everyone’s journey to the Light is different. Personally, I think the way I’m getting there has some freaky stops along the way.
