For many of us, the mountain we’re trying to move involves our own feelings of self-worth: Why am I here? And, as Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Ronnie Van Zant first sang nearly four decades ago: “If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?”

Van Zant’s death in a 1977 plane crash gave answer to the eternal question of the “Free Bird” lyric: Yes, we remember—because of the music. But what about those who lack Van Zant’s gifts? Will anyone notice they were here?

That’s what plagued factory worker Ken Swyers.

Looking for meaning

After interviewing the 33-year-old’s family and friends, author Ralph Keyes concluded Swyers was like most of us: an average guy stuck in a dead-end job, afraid to go after something more fulfilling, but desperate to feel some excitement, some meaning in his life.

So rather than make the substantive career changes that might have given him long-term satisfaction, Swyers opted for something that might bring him short-term notoriety. The veteran skydiver devised a plan to parachute from a plane onto the peak of the St. Louis Gateway Arch.

After failing on two previous attempts, Swyers chose November 22, 1980, for his grand finale. He would drop from a plane, parachute to the arch, then deploy a second chute to carry him safely to the ground.

It was a risky stunt. His landing zone was only 33 feet long and 17 feet wide. High winds had driven him off course on his previous attempts. But Swyers was determined. He needed to make his life matter and saw this attention-grabbing exhibition as the way to accomplish his goal.

In all the wrong places

With a crowd gathered below and his wife filming the event, Swyers dropped from the plane, deployed his first chute, and floated to a safe landing just a little off dead center of the arch. He stood, gave his parachute lines a shake … and the wind caught the chute, knocking him off balance. The chute began dragging him toward the edge where the arch curves down to the ground. Frantically, he pulled the rip cord to deploy the second chute. It didn’t open. He desperately tried to get to his feet so he could jump off and inflate the second chute. Too late.

Swyers slipped over the side of the arch and slid 63 stories to his death.

Swyers was no different from a lot of people who think the answer to their problems lies in a winning lottery ticket or a stint on a reality TV program. How about you? What seems more daunting … jumping from a plane onto a 630-foot towering arch? Or trying to change your everyday circumstances?