Plunging Into Life Without Limits
At lunch the other day with an old pal, we got around to talking about the limitations people put on themselves. About how we stifle our imaginations and undercut our own wills. In short, how people so often back down from thinking on a grand scale when mapping out their lives.
And, no, we weren’t talking about whether a tunnel should be built through the mountains to ease traffic on the Riverside Freeway. Or whether light rail should have been built between Fullerton and Irvine. Or whether a Great Park is beyond our grasp.
Nothing that fanciful. But we ask why people surrender to inertia and resist doing things that, if they actually pulled them off, would add texture to life.
That got me thinking again about my favorite news story of the year: the guy who thought he could survive going over Niagara Falls without a barrel -- and then, 2 1/2 weeks ago, did it. When that story first broke, it reminded me, in turn, of my favorite story of all time: the Southern California man who, in 1982, rigged a lawn chair with helium balloons and launched himself 16,000 feet above Long Beach.
Role models? Yes and no.
Should you jump Niagara Falls? Absolutely not. Are we exhilarated, however, that Kirk Jones did it? Absolutely.
Should you ride your lawn chair into the clouds, as Larry Walters did in 1982, staying aloft for a reported two hours? Absolutely not. Are we exhilarated because Walters not only thought of doing it, but actually did it? Absolutely.
In an age when we let machines and electronics perform all of our miracles, it’s heartening to know that human beings still can do the incredible.
Since Jones’ plunge over the falls, it’s remained unclear whether he was certain he’d survive, or that, because of problems in his life, he didn’t care. His father, who didn’t know in advance of his son’s plans, told the Buffalo News: “This was my son’s attempt to change the status quo and convince the world that he is not an ordinary man.”
Whatever the truth behind Jones’ motive, he is merely the latest person of some 15 people in the last century who have tried to jump the falls -- some successfully -- according to a Niagara Falls Web site. The first person to try it was a schoolteacher named Annie Taylor, who did it in a barrel in 1901. She hoped the feat would earn her a decent retirement living. Instead, she died penniless.
The next try apparently came in 1911 when a circus performer named Bobby Leach succeeded. Fourteen years later, however, while on a lecture tour in New Zealand, Leach died from medical complications after slipping on an orange peel.
Here in Southern California, fate was similarly unkind to Walters. Eleven years after his escapade, Walters committed suicide at age 44. In recounting Walters’ day in the clouds, The Times obituary quoted from an earlier story in which he had said, “I had this dream for 20 years, and if I hadn’t done it, I would have ended up in the funny farm.” He had told the reporter that he’d taken a camera aloft with him but “was so amazed by the view that I didn’t even take one picture.”
For his trouble, Walters was fined by the FAA and appeared on “The Tonight Show” and “Late Night With David Letterman.” He also was honored by the Bonehead Club of Dallas.
For whatever reasons, these people decided not to limit themselves. Dreamers? Daredevils? Crackpots? Who among us can say?
You’d have to say these ordinary people taught us a thing or two. They knew something about imagination and what it takes to act far beyond a person’s normal limits.
I guess, by their deeds, you could say they taught us what not to do, but, in another way, exactly what we should do.
It’s weird how the two sort of intersect.
Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. He can be reached at (714) 966-7821 or at dana.parsons@latimes.com .
