Well, boys and girls, If you will recall last week’s stirring adventure, I was suspended in an obsolescent parachute halfway down to the boonies east of National City.. The plan was: upon landing from my 10,000 foot jump, I would be gathered up, chute and all, and borne triumphantly to the parade, witnessed by over a hundred thousand San Diegans.

National City had assigned my pick-up to the crew of a hook and ladder fire truck. After the jump, I would be placed on the truck, waving to my admiring throng from the rear chair of the truck with the parachute draped over the top...

A lanyard had been strung from the truck bell, so I could use the bell as an attention-getting device. Other trappings included frequent sirening and, of course, my Rose Bowl Queen wand wave. I also had the vapid smile down cold.

Having jumped from the plane so confidently, I was soon frantically fighting my shroud lines, trying to steer away from a sure crash into the bustling city of Chula Vista., ten miles to the south. The Gods had conspired to test me, and I was flunking.

In those days, the parachutes fought back when you tugged at the shroud lines. Pulling one in the direction where you wanted to go resulted in a temporary spill of the chute and a consequent two or three hundred foot swoon closer to earth. I learned to be economical in trying to control this monstrosity.

One minute, the wind was pushing me gleefully toward a collision with a random unyielding object like a speeding car on a broad Chula Vista thoroughfare. The next minute, it was like what the Japanese call “The Divine Wind,” the same wind that had swooped down on me and borne me toward Chula Vista neighborhoods now relented and began frivolously pushing me toward the open safe flat land east of the city..

I attracted a whole new audience, non-participants in the parade. It probably began with one gawker who looked up, saw me and shouted to others to look up, gawkers who then created a human wave gawking effect amongst themselves And now, I saw hundreds shading their eyes, looking up at me, this strange apparition, the kind where you can’t believe your eyes but, yes, it’s a guy in a parachute. And, he’s coming down fast.

My LZ as we parachutists call it, was now open land. I was home free, about to land unimpeded when again, the wind intervened This time, I was picked up by a rude gust, stopped literally in mid-air, suspended, just hanging there, and going nowhere but…down

From about 1000 feet up, I saw a long line of cars snaking through the streets, trailing me. Ahead of them were a dozen wailing Police Cars, and leading the parade was the Hook and Ladder Fire truck, still game to pick me up for the trip to the parade or to the morgue, whichever came first.

Like I told you, the strong new westerly wind leveled my descent downward and boosted me, not into a house, but east, toward the pasture bordering the neighborhood. Ay Caramba! It was a pasture teeming with black bulls, the longhorn kind you see in the Tijuana, bull ring, the breed you see running down those fools in Pamplona. Was this going to be my fate, being ground into hamburger meat by a herd of killer bulls?

I reflexively tugged at my shroud line. Crashing into a yard or on a roof top was way better than into the midst of these enraged toros. The chute sagged, resigned to giving me up to the fates.

My life didn’t flash before my eyes. No time for that. I have had too much of an action-packed life for it to be compressed into a series of VH1 type flashes.

Now, I was plummeting toward a house…..with a pool. I girded my body to absorb the crash onto the roof, but another wind swell carried me past the roof into the line of sight of a sunbather lying face up on an inflated rubber mattress.

His face contorted into one of complete shock and alarm. Just as I plunged feet first into the deep end of his pool, I felt the chute envelope me in a silken embrace.

Thank heavens I was a water-loving Galveston boy with big lung power and strong arms to fend off the chute. In the midst of the fending, I found the top vent hole of the chute through which I stuck my head as I kicked to the surface.

My distraught would-be rescuer was now jumping up and down, yelling in alarm. Quickly gathering his senses, he reached down to the lines and began pulling me and the chute toward the edge of the pool.

Newly alarmed, he shouted, “Where is your plane?” meanwhile looking skyward as if any minute my plane would come crashing after me into his pool.

I hastily assured him there was no plane, that I had intended to parachute jump into the parade at National City, but wound up here in Chula Vista. Seeing that I was overloading him, I cut myself short. My tortured narrative was only making matters worse.

Luckily, my retinue arrived at the front of the house. First, the police screeched to a stop and fanned out into the street to stymie the arrival of the dozens of cars who had joined in my pursuit

They cleared the way for the giant Hook and Ladder which lumbered into the block, sirens wailing.

My unwilling host was now totally flummoxed.

“Who are you?.” he stammered.

“I am Happy Hare,” I replied, my smiling upbeat self again.

He had never heard of Happy Hare, and thought I was suffering some sort of post parachute jump traumatic stress. syndrome.. He ran into his house and grabbed a blanket, then tried to make me lie down to treat me for shock

“I am a Navy captain,” he proclaimed in his best command voice.” Lie down. Try to relax.”

I didn’t lie down, but stood up to join my official parade escorts. The yard was now teeming with firemen and cops.

The head fireman ran to my first aid guy and said reassuringly, “It’s alright He’s Happy Hare, and he is due at the parade.”

I am sure that the Navy captain may have thought we all were nuts but, being outnumbers by kooks, he surrendered me.

By now, the firemen were wringing out the chute and folding it into a manageable form. Then, they hauled it to the fire truck with me following. I thanked my disoriented care-giver, ran to the front yard and jumped onto the truck.

The parade was huge. Thousands cheered as I flashed my vapid smile, which widened into the real toothy one. I soon let go with a more sincere wave instead of that wan Rose Queen waving. That jump was more than a brush with death, more of a side swipe.

After my return from WADO in New York, I thought the WNEW offer was my one and only shot at immortality. It was the fantasy gig of all jocks. However, my then-wife was having none of returning to New York. In a vain attempt to salvage the marriage, I passed on WNEW, but she still booted me.

I plunged into the void for several months with the grim determination not to marry again any time soon….like forever. But, one aimless day, I spied a dazzling creature, Carol, striding majestically across the lobby of the U.S. Grant Hotel, leaving an irresistible wake. We will soon celebrate our fortieth anniversary.

Read how we hooked up in the adventure titled “Happy Hare’s Trifecta.” Her picture appears on page 1 of that episode. Scroll to the bottom of this adventure to the chapters and click onto it.

This coming October 8th,, the Radio/Television Broadcasters Hall of Fame of Ohio will induct me. My five years at KYW in Cleveland with Specs Howard are my most vivid.

Regis Philbin generously took the time during a production break, to tape a congratulations to me for that night. Peter Lund, former president of CBS, sent words that humble me. Also, kudos from Randy Michaels, former head of Clear Channel; Chuck Blore, and Roger Hedgecock.

My daughters Melanie, and Melissa and son, Nick, will be there for me as will Carol. Son-in-law Patrick and grand daughter, Jenna Patch, will round it out.

At my recent birthday dinner, I said to my kids, “I have no idea what to say when I get up on stage for the presentation. Melissa, without hesitation said, “Dad, tell them that you devoted your life to making people happy.”