In 1988, my family attended the Edwards Air Force Base air show, expecting a thrilling day of aviation. What we didn’t expect was a moment that would change the Wilson clan forever. As the U.S. Air Force Academy Skydiving Team descended into the high desert, I turned to my dad and said, “We have to do that!”
Unfortunately, I quickly learned that the minimum age to jump was 18. I was crushed—but only temporarily.
My parents, Jim and Nona, had always instilled in us kids a strong sense of adventure, faith and courage during our upbringing. Little did we know how much skydiving would shape those values and deeply change and grow our family.
After some convincing, and a little strategic finagling with Mom, Dad—who never shied away from adventure—headed off to Mendota, California, with three of his workmates. His jump that day marked the beginning of a family legacy, including the thousands of children who used STEM material he built later with the assistance of AIMS education and Taft Skydiving. As soon as I turned 18, I enrolled in the AFF program, and before long, Dad and I were jumping together. Those early years were filled with adrenaline, laughter and a bond that freefall forged stronger.
On Saturdays, we would sit around the drop-zone until well into the evening telling stories. J.R., Denise, Rusty, Mike, Brad and so many others shared their stories too, though I was never sure how much was actually true. Dad and I would then drive the 90 minutes home, further bonding over adventures. These times demonstrated that even in fast-paced, adrenaline-packed skydiving, chilling with the community is essential.
Within a few years, our entire family had taken the plunge. Mom, my brother and my sister all completed tandem jumps. My dad and I also completed our A licenses at the same time. We’re likely one of only a few thousand families where every member has faced their fears of leaping out into the wild blue yonder. These experiences weren’t just thrilling—they were transformative. One of our favorite family photos captures my brother and me linking hands mid-air during his second tandem jump. It’s a symbol of everything skydiving gave us: connection, courage and joy.
Skydiving didn’t just change our family—it helped shape our paths. My brother served in the Air Force, my sister in the Army and myself in cybersecurity. The discipline, courage and quick decision-making skills we gained through skydiving translated directly into our respective careers. For my brother, the experience taught him how to remain calm under pressure as an officer on AWACS and trust his instincts. My sister earned her airborne wings at Fort Benning where she later went on to be an Army Airborne nurse, channeling the adventure and lifesaving capabilities of skydiving into saving lives of soldiers on the ground. Skydiving influenced how I work and the quick decision making needed in cybersecurity.
The shared experience of skydiving brought us closer, much like families who bond through high-risk sports. We learned that what mattered in our careers was preparation, precision and excellence. But what mattered most as a family was being present, forgiving and loving one another deeply. (I did, after all, accidentally pack a malfunction on my brother’s first tandem jump.)
Skydiving didn’t just strengthen the Wilson family—it expanded it. We all know that life is better in community, and the community of skydivers is like no other. Nearly everyone would give you their shirt off their back, surround mates who have been injured or grieve with each other during the loss of a friend. I also met my future wife, Gina, at Bay Area Skydiving in Byron, California, where she helped run manifest. My life was changed at 10,000 feet when we kissed in freefall, and life has been an adrenaline ride since then.
Skydiving taught my family how to conquer fear, channel adrenaline, make quick decisions, be part of a broader community and ultimately live life fully. It brought out the best in each of us and gave us stories we’ll tell for the rest of our lives. Through every jump, every malfunction and every moment of awe, we discovered something profound: The sky isn’t the teacher but the avenue for broader horizons and learning.
Patrick Wilson D-20831
San Ramon, California