My Message
There are many things that are important to me, lessons I have learned and things I have observed, that I enjoy sharing with others. Perhaps the greatest message I can share today however, is summed up in the statement:
"The stature of a man (or woman) is not measured by their height, but by the size of their heart."
No circumstances can stand in the way of your dreams if you stand tall, believe in your dreams, and refuse to lose. Of course, good friends and a little luck can be helpful as I learned early on. But the important thing is to set your goals, then pursue them with all your heart.
I was eighteen years old when I enlisted in the Army and was sent to a school for administration specialists. But my dreams didn't involve typewriters. My dreams were to soar through the heavens in the cockpit of an American aircraft. While fulfilling my duties as chief payroll clerk, I obtained a complete set of army regulations and read and reread them until I knew every requirement for the aviation cadet program. I could fulfill every aspect but one. Army regs required aviation cadets to be at least five feet, four inches tall. My buddies measured me and I came up short. At eighteen I was only five feet, three and three-quarter inches. Hoping to "slip through", I volunteered for aviation cadet training, determined to fly.
One of my friends had read a magazine article that claimed the human body was tallest in the early morning, right after waking. (Perhaps standing upright and walking about caused the body to compress ever so slightly.) My friends determined I would "grow" the extra quarter inch I needed in order to qualify for Army aviation. On the day of my physical I showered before going to bed, so I would be ready for my 7:30 AM appointment after a minimum of standing.
My friends determined to keep me horizontal until the last critical moment. While I lay in bed the following morning, they slipped my fatigues on me, put on my socks and shoes, and then slid me onto a long, narrow board. Four of them carried me, still horizontal, to the bed of a waiting truck and transported me to the dispensary for my physical. From there, they carried me, still horizontal on the plank, inside to be weighed and measured. The medic measured my height first, then entered the notation that I was five feet, three and seven-eighths inches tall. By one eighth of an inch, I had failed to qualify.
Discouraged, I submitted to the remainder of the physical, passing with flying colors. The last stop was the visit with the flight surgeon. After reviewing my reports he stated, "According to this exam, you're short of the minimum height requirement by an eighth of an inch."
I blurted right out, "I think the medic who measured me made a mistake. I was measured by my friends in the barracks and they found me to be exactly five feet four."
The flight surgeon had me stand; he looked me over and told me to turn around. "How old are you, son?" he asked in a rather soft and relaxed manner.
"Eighteen, " I replied.
"Will you promise me you'll grow another eighth of an inch?" he asked.
"I came right back with a definite and cheery, "Yes, sir." He made the necessary correction to my physical records, and I was officially five feet four inches tall. A little luck, some good friends, and my own determination made the difference. And the rest, as they say, is history.
