What do you give as a 90th birthday present to a man who survived a plane crash into the Pacific Ocean during World War II, only to endure unspeakable horrors as a prisoner of war, who admits he was "an alcoholic, chain-smoker, rotten, lowdown stinker" before he found redemption in his religion and never looked back?

    Who set a track record for the scholastic mile at Torrance High that lasted 20 years, and a collegiate mile record at USC that stood for 15 years. Who roomed with Jesse Owens at the 1936 Berlin Olympics, stole a Nazi flag from the chancellery during the Games and was invited to shake the hand of Adolf Hitler.

    Who flies planes, skis, tells Marines at Twentynine Palms about combat survival and sees nothing odd about climbing 30 feet, chain saw in hand, to trim the trees outside his home in the Hollywood Hills.

    A necktie wouldn't cut it.

    Lou Zamperini's spirit outshines the Olympic flame that he has carried five times.

    "He's a little bit of a force of nature," says Anita DeFrantz, a member of the International Olympic Committee and president of the Amateur Athletic Foundation of Los Angeles.

    Zamperini's family and friends will honor him today at USC's Town and Gown at a dinner that will benefit his nonprofit Victory Boys Camp. A statue of him will stand at Zamperini Plaza outside USC's Loker track stadium.

    The real gift, though, will be an award that will be named for him and presented annually to the most inspirational athlete on the Trojans' track team.

    "He's got his fill of trophies and crystals and all kinds of stuff," said his son, Luke, who works for the code enforcement program of the Los Angeles building and safety department. "We wanted to do something for him and not just buy him a TV.

    "Inspirational matches what my dad's life has been all about."

    Seated in his dining room-office, surrounded by a comfortable clutter of mail, books, photos and the dolls collected by his late wife, Cynthia, Zamperini seemed embarrassed by the fuss. He even declined a party offer.

    "Too many birthdays can kill you," he said.

    Zamperini told his story in a 2003 book, "Devil at My Heels," and a film was made about him, "Still Carrying the Torch." Laura Hillenbrand, author of "Seabiscuit," is writing his biography. In any form, his fortitude is nearly beyond comprehension.

    And its source was a phrase he heard USC runner Vic Williams say one day: "When you start something, never quit."

    "OK, so I'm a dummy. I never listened to anybody," Zamperini said. "But he said that so many times, that stuck with me all my life…. I get to USC and they teach the same thing, never give up, whether it's schooling or track and field or football. And of course, I had that in my mind all through the Pacific."

    A B-24 bombardier, Zamperini might have drowned when his plane was shot down but for his USC ring catching on a window. The life raft he shared with two crewmates was strafed with 48 bullet holes, yet they were unscathed. They painstakingly repaired each puncture.

    "A whitecap would come over and you'd have to start all over again," he said. "Sometimes it took an hour to get one little patch on.

    "Lying in that raft — the raft is underwater, there's two sharks around you — it's just a hopeless situation. You feel like, 'Hey, this is it.' But the will to live is pretty strong."

    It carried him through 47 days, during which he withered to about 65 pounds and the tail gunner died.

    Captured by the Japanese, he spent two years at POW camps. His despair was greatest when he was imprisoned on the island of Kwajalein, where nine Marines had been executed and where his captors turned him into a human guinea pig, injecting him with mysterious drugs.

    "When they did these experiments, we didn't worry because we knew we were next, and if I die from these injections, that's better than having my head chopped off," he said.  

    "We're lucky that we didn't die under those conditions. You had the food thrown at you, so you had to pick up every grain of rice off the floor. I spent, like, two hours just finding each grain of rice in the dirt."

    He was rescued at war's end but had been declared dead and was initially denied food and clothing at U.S. military bases. His silver USC Coliseum pass was his only identification.

    Back home, he married but fell into a life of drinking and partying. One day, though, he heard Billy Graham speak and something clicked.

    "When I went forward at the meeting and got off my knees, I knew I was through getting drunk," he said. "I just knew it. I forgave all my captors.

    "Then I started to make up for all the damage I'd done. Being an Olympian and having a war story, I figured I'd make some use of it."

    Recounting his story is as cathartic for him as it is uplifting to his listeners.

    "He can really reach people," DeFrantz said. "I always hear something new."

    The man who once compiled a list he called "A Measure of Who I Am" and came up with 110 items, hasn't finished sharing his message. Today, on his birthday, and every day, he is our gift.

    "There's not a person in the world I'd trade my life for," he said, "even with everything I've been through."