I’ll Be Screaming Louder Than The Wind | How One Skydiving Instructor Changed The Course of My Son's Life

Not here for a flight, but a feeling.

Today, we visited the airport. I noticed the lawn gate open at Skydive Newport and figured… why not? We wandered in, and I was greeted by Chris.

To break the ice (and explain why I was dragging a very tiny human into a skydiving facility), I asked, “Hey, what’s the legal age for skydiving?”

“18,” he replied.

“Perfect. Otto is 19.”

With laughter, Chris gave us his time with open-hearted kindness. I told him a bit about Otto—his love for airplanes, his deep and unwavering interest in flight—and he didn’t flinch. He didn’t send us off - he invited us in.

Otto ran straight to the jump plane and climbed in like he had been flying aircraft for all three years of his life.

“This is the elevator to move the tail,” he announced.

Chris looked a bit surprised and said, “You know what you’re talkin’ about.”

What Chris may not have known is how much these moments matter to neurodivergent children like Otto. They are more than just “cute.”

They are critical. They’re the moments that help him feel accepted—seen.

They allow him to study the world with the depth and intensity he craves. And they provide him with a sense of belonging in a world that often feels too loud, too fast, and too rigid.

This is what inclusion looks like. It’s not always a grand gesture—it’s an open gate, a kind smile, and someone who says, “Sure, come check it out.”

To the folks at Skydive Newport — thank you. Chris, thank you. You gave my son a memory he’ll never forget. And for me… it was more than a morning at the airport.

It was another reminder that when kids are trusted to lead, they’ll take flight. Sometimes literally.

Otto has officially decided that this is his new morning routine, and I fully support that. We’ll be back, every day if he has his way.

And while 15 years is a long wait to jump out of a plane… it’ll be here before I know it.

And I’ll be screaming louder than the wind..