HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!
Today is December 23, 2008. This is a very important date for me. For it was on this date, in 1944, when Marie (fondly known to me as”Pete”), and I were married. Sixty four years ago ! Time - where have you gone?
This important day fell on a Saturday. I received my pilot wings in the morning, and we were married that afternoon. Our wedding took place in the Immaculate Conception church in Douglas, Arizona. When you think of a small wedding, you are thinking of ours. I had just graduated from the four-month Advanced Pilot program, flying B-25’s. Marie was winding down the semester at Mills College in Oakland. My instructor was the “best man”, and his wife was the “matron of honor”. Marie and I met her for the first time at the altar! Marie also met my instructor for the first time. Marie’s mother, Ethel, came down with her from Tulare (CA). Marie wanted to be married in Tulare - her hometown. Our commanding officer said that we couldn’t have a “leave’. We should report directly to our next duty station. So, we switched to plan B - getting married in Douglas. But, at the last minute, the powers that be, authorized a two week leave. It was too late to return to plan A at this point. Besides the priest, Ethel and our two attendants, a few of my Student Officer- classmates were also there.
In reflecting back, our marriage should never have lasted this long. We only dated a few times, when I was stationed in Tulare and Bakersfield. Too, we hadn’t seen each other in the four months leading up to our wedding. This combination is usually a recipe for failure. I won’t say that we “lucked out”, because there was more than luck involved to achieve this married longevity. One hears the phrase - “Marriage is a 50-50 proposition. While this is a true theorem, it is only an average. Most times, the interaction varies considerably for one spouse or the other. When I responded to “Do you take this woman - for better, or for worse?” those many years ago, I didn’t realize what I agreed to. Not that it would have changed my response, but I didn’t realize the power of those words!
I have mixed emotions today! I am very happy, and thankful, to be married to Marie for 64 years! We have had much more happiness, than
un- happiness together. I have enjoyed helping to raise our five daughters - our family togetherness - our traveling - in the U.S. while I was still working and in Europe, during our retirement years.
But, today, I am very sad because I have “lost” my wife! Her neurologist has diagnosed her with Alzheimer- dementia, and Marie is no longer the same person that I knew through the years. Dr. Pai showed us the print of her brain-MRI. He pointed out the area in her frontal cortex where she has lost 50 percent of the brain cells. With this handicap, she has lost her recent memory, and pretty much functions like a five-year old! While I don’t see her old self; at times she no longer recognizes me! I have great difficulty communicating with her. When the memory is gone, every thing to her is a new experience, and I cannot affect “change” Yet, Marie still has that “sweetness” about her! She realizes that something is wrong, and thanks me for helping her, and says, “I love you”.
“Happy Anniversary, Pete!”
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
White Christmas.
WHITE CHRISTMAS!
Every month, Steve Barkhurst drops in, with his keyboard, and entertains us with songs, for an hour. He is really talented and has a special program each month. He sings, along with his playing, and invites all of us to join him. He makes it especially interesting by reciting the history of each tune - the names of those that wrote the words and music and the year written, and additional background.
Today, was his Christmas program. He will present it 56 different places during December. He played many of the popular Christmas songs, and described how they ranked in popularity each year, as determined by the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP). The Society determined this ranking by recapping the annual royalties for the music that they collected, and distributed to the authors. The Society makes the distinction between Christmas songs (which are not overly religious) and Christmas carols. The most performed “Holiday” songs, for the first five years of the 21st century, in rank-order, follow:
1. “The Christmas Song”
2. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”
3.”Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”
4. “Winter Wonderland”
5. “White Christmas”.
Note: Most years, prior to year 2000, Bing Crosby’s rendition of White Christmas was the favorite. Irving Berlin wrote the song in early 1940. “White Christmas” was introduced by Bing Crosby in the 1942 musical-film - “Holiday Inn”. He sung it in a duet with Marjorie Reynolds.
“White Christmas” is emotional for me every time that I hear it. My mind goes back to Christmas eve - 1942, when I first heard it at midnight mass. I was “homesick!” - my first Christmas spent away from home. I was stationed in Cutbank, Montana with the 2nd Bomb Group flying B-17’s. We were involved with operational training, prior to going overseas.
December is a busy month for Steve, as he will present his music 56 times before Christmas. Next month he will present songs written by women. .
Every month, Steve Barkhurst drops in, with his keyboard, and entertains us with songs, for an hour. He is really talented and has a special program each month. He sings, along with his playing, and invites all of us to join him. He makes it especially interesting by reciting the history of each tune - the names of those that wrote the words and music and the year written, and additional background.
Today, was his Christmas program. He will present it 56 different places during December. He played many of the popular Christmas songs, and described how they ranked in popularity each year, as determined by the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP). The Society determined this ranking by recapping the annual royalties for the music that they collected, and distributed to the authors. The Society makes the distinction between Christmas songs (which are not overly religious) and Christmas carols. The most performed “Holiday” songs, for the first five years of the 21st century, in rank-order, follow:
1. “The Christmas Song”
2. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”
3.”Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”
4. “Winter Wonderland”
5. “White Christmas”.
Note: Most years, prior to year 2000, Bing Crosby’s rendition of White Christmas was the favorite. Irving Berlin wrote the song in early 1940. “White Christmas” was introduced by Bing Crosby in the 1942 musical-film - “Holiday Inn”. He sung it in a duet with Marjorie Reynolds.
“White Christmas” is emotional for me every time that I hear it. My mind goes back to Christmas eve - 1942, when I first heard it at midnight mass. I was “homesick!” - my first Christmas spent away from home. I was stationed in Cutbank, Montana with the 2nd Bomb Group flying B-17’s. We were involved with operational training, prior to going overseas.
December is a busy month for Steve, as he will present his music 56 times before Christmas. Next month he will present songs written by women. .
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
CHRISTMAS CARDS
Christmas Cards
It seems as though I am always working on a “project”. My current project is seasonal. A couple of weeks ago, Mary took me up to Vacaville to attend Kaiser’s “Open House”, and tour of their new Medical Clinic, which opened in November.
Afterwards, she took me over to the Factory Outlet shops so that I could look at Christmas cards. We ended up at Papyrus. They still had a good selection of cards, and they were marked “70% off “. I really was interested then. They were good quality cards. I determined this not only from the weight of the paper, but also because the envelopes were lined with gold-colored paper. When I was quite young, I was really impressed when my parents received such a card. I made one mistake. I didn’t associate the size of the cards, and the good quality of the paper, with requiring extra postage! When one is 90 years old , one would think that this reasoning would be intuitive.
I addressed the cards, and Sue offered to take our Christmas letter to Kinko’s for copies, and then stuff them in the envelopes, along with putting the stamps and return address labels on the envelopes. Some of the envelopes then looked like they might be overweight, so I checked them on my small-antique hand-held scale. Some were heavier than one ounce, while others weighed less than - or equal to one ounce. We decided that she would have the post office check their weights, and buy 17 cent stamps for the “heavy ones”. Sue was telling Tom about this, and his comment was “Don’t weigh each card, just buy a 17 cent stamp for each one.”
I kept thinking about his comment, Marie was diagnosed with dementia about nine months ago. Ever since I have read whatever article I saw on the subject, It is really fascinating how the brain works - or doesn’t work, as the case may be. However our difference in thinking is not brain related, but reflects how we were raised. My “learning” years occurred during the years of the Great Depression (the early 1930’s). Then, we didn’t have an extra 17 cents! With this money, we could have bought a loaf of bread, a quart of milk or a gallon of gas. So, we did what we had to do! In Tom’s formative years - some 35 years later, a family had more “wherewithal” for discretionary spending. His “Boomer generation learned to make life easier, rather than do what was dictated by the family’s economic circumstances.
It seems as though I am always working on a “project”. My current project is seasonal. A couple of weeks ago, Mary took me up to Vacaville to attend Kaiser’s “Open House”, and tour of their new Medical Clinic, which opened in November.
Afterwards, she took me over to the Factory Outlet shops so that I could look at Christmas cards. We ended up at Papyrus. They still had a good selection of cards, and they were marked “70% off “. I really was interested then. They were good quality cards. I determined this not only from the weight of the paper, but also because the envelopes were lined with gold-colored paper. When I was quite young, I was really impressed when my parents received such a card. I made one mistake. I didn’t associate the size of the cards, and the good quality of the paper, with requiring extra postage! When one is 90 years old , one would think that this reasoning would be intuitive.
I addressed the cards, and Sue offered to take our Christmas letter to Kinko’s for copies, and then stuff them in the envelopes, along with putting the stamps and return address labels on the envelopes. Some of the envelopes then looked like they might be overweight, so I checked them on my small-antique hand-held scale. Some were heavier than one ounce, while others weighed less than - or equal to one ounce. We decided that she would have the post office check their weights, and buy 17 cent stamps for the “heavy ones”. Sue was telling Tom about this, and his comment was “Don’t weigh each card, just buy a 17 cent stamp for each one.”
I kept thinking about his comment, Marie was diagnosed with dementia about nine months ago. Ever since I have read whatever article I saw on the subject, It is really fascinating how the brain works - or doesn’t work, as the case may be. However our difference in thinking is not brain related, but reflects how we were raised. My “learning” years occurred during the years of the Great Depression (the early 1930’s). Then, we didn’t have an extra 17 cents! With this money, we could have bought a loaf of bread, a quart of milk or a gallon of gas. So, we did what we had to do! In Tom’s formative years - some 35 years later, a family had more “wherewithal” for discretionary spending. His “Boomer generation learned to make life easier, rather than do what was dictated by the family’s economic circumstances.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Armistice Day - November 11, 1918.
Armistice Day; November 11, 1918 - November 11, 2008.
I was born on the first Armistice Day. This day in 1918 was so named, because the peace treaty, ending World War I, was signed in France at 11:00 A.M. (6:00 in Hillsdale, Michigan.) I was born 20 minutes later. There are only 10 surviving veterans from that war- “to end all wars” - two live in the United States! My, and my Mother’s claim to fame, is that we survived the terrible flu epidemic that plagued the world during 1918. I only wish that I had talked to her about the epidemic.
“Epidemic” is certainly the descriptive word. According to the National Archives, “World War I claimed an estimated 16 million lives. The influenza epidemic that swept the world in 1918 killed an estimated 50 million people. One fifth of the world’s population was attacked by this deadly virus. Within months, it had killed more people than any other illness in recorded history. The plague emerged in two phases. In late spring of 1918, the first phase, known as the “three -day fever”, appeared without warning. Few deaths were reported. Victims recovered after a few days. When the disease surfaced again that fall, it was more severe…… Some victims died within hours of their first symptoms. Others succumbed after a few days; their lungs filled with fluid and they suffocated to death. The flu afflicted over 25 percent of the U.S. population. In one year, the average life expectancy in the United States dropped by 12 years.!”
I celebrated my 90th birthday, on Sunday, November 9, 2008, at the Café’ in Paradise Valley, along with my wife of nearly 64 years - Marie - and 37 family and friends. It was a very nice occasion - one that I will always remember (How long? Only the “Good Lord” knows - and He hasn’t shared His secret with me.) I feel blessed to reach 90 years - especially when I consider that my “life expectancy” at birth, was only 36.6 years.
It was “warming” to see, and chat, with everyone. Some of the folks I hadn’t seen in a long time (seven months since our move from Vallejo to Fairfield!) Three of our daughters, and their husbands, were there, along with eight of our grandkids, and all five of our great-grandkids. There were 39 people, in all, attending.
I was born on the first Armistice Day. This day in 1918 was so named, because the peace treaty, ending World War I, was signed in France at 11:00 A.M. (6:00 in Hillsdale, Michigan.) I was born 20 minutes later. There are only 10 surviving veterans from that war- “to end all wars” - two live in the United States! My, and my Mother’s claim to fame, is that we survived the terrible flu epidemic that plagued the world during 1918. I only wish that I had talked to her about the epidemic.
“Epidemic” is certainly the descriptive word. According to the National Archives, “World War I claimed an estimated 16 million lives. The influenza epidemic that swept the world in 1918 killed an estimated 50 million people. One fifth of the world’s population was attacked by this deadly virus. Within months, it had killed more people than any other illness in recorded history. The plague emerged in two phases. In late spring of 1918, the first phase, known as the “three -day fever”, appeared without warning. Few deaths were reported. Victims recovered after a few days. When the disease surfaced again that fall, it was more severe…… Some victims died within hours of their first symptoms. Others succumbed after a few days; their lungs filled with fluid and they suffocated to death. The flu afflicted over 25 percent of the U.S. population. In one year, the average life expectancy in the United States dropped by 12 years.!”
I celebrated my 90th birthday, on Sunday, November 9, 2008, at the Café’ in Paradise Valley, along with my wife of nearly 64 years - Marie - and 37 family and friends. It was a very nice occasion - one that I will always remember (How long? Only the “Good Lord” knows - and He hasn’t shared His secret with me.) I feel blessed to reach 90 years - especially when I consider that my “life expectancy” at birth, was only 36.6 years.
It was “warming” to see, and chat, with everyone. Some of the folks I hadn’t seen in a long time (seven months since our move from Vallejo to Fairfield!) Three of our daughters, and their husbands, were there, along with eight of our grandkids, and all five of our great-grandkids. There were 39 people, in all, attending.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
90 Years - 64 Years!
I was born at 0620 on November 11, 1918 in Hillsdale, Michigan. This was the first celebration of Armistice Day - celebrating the signing of the peace treaty,(at 11:00 AM France time) - ending World War I), at Versailles, France.
The year 1918 was a critical one, as the world was experiencing an influenza epidemic. I never talked to my Mother about it, but now, I wish that I had. So, I don’t know whether either of us had it, but I doubt it. Or, we probably wouldn’t have survived.
I was talking to Fabi, our Receptionist at Quail Creek, the other day. I mentioned that my 90th birthday was coming up next month. She asked me what I attributed to living so long. Then, after I told her that Marie and I would be celebrating our 64th wedding anniversary in December, she asked each of us as to “what was our secret?” I never dwelled on these questions before, although I, too, thought about them - primarily due to my Mother living almost 100 years. Too, only my Grandparents L’Amoreaux celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. So, it wasn’t too common when I was growing up. Centenarians were few and far between , also.
So, I guess now is the time to reflect on how I should answer the question of reaching the “Old-old” age category, and long marriage. (Theoretically, our marriage should never have lasted. We dated only a few times and hadn’t seen each other for about four months before our wedding day!). But, maybe this is the secret! But, where do I start? And how? What do I say? Well, here goes.
When I was growing up in Hillsdale - and later in Berea, Ohio - I didn’t receive the smothering attention from my parents, that today’s smaller families receive - even though I was the first born, with one sister and two brothers. Back in the 30’s mothers and fathers worked much harder, with longer hours, than they do today. They had longer workdays, and workweeks, without all the labor-saving devices of today. My Dad used to work Saturdays later changed to Saturday morning (No overtime pay for Saturday work back then - until the Great Depression.
We were raised to be responsible for our selves - to a point where they could trust us to comply. My parents never became involved in my school-work! It was my responsibility to perform, and if not, to answer to the teacher. I don’t remember if the PTA was invented back then. I do remember that I never saw them attend one of my sporting events - whether it was sandlot baseball or high school -athletics.
When I was very young - probably 8 or 9 years old - in the 1920’s, I had a magazine route in Hillsdale. I sold the Saturday Evening Post, Ladies Home Journal and Country Gentleman magazines - door to door. In the summer, I would pull the heavy magazines in my wagon. In the winter, I would haul them on my Flexible Flyer sled. I didn’t have an “Allowance”, so this was my spending money. When I was about 10, I got a paper route. I saved enough to buy my first bike - a 26 inch one. I don’t know where I got the experience to make these decisions, “on the job training”, I guess. I must have gotten some advice from my parents, at such an early age, but I just don’t recall any.
During the school year, I would come home from school and check on my Mom to make sure that she was o.k., change my “school clothes”, and head out to play with the neighborhood kids until supper time. During the summers, I would fix me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, wrap it and put it in my pocket. (This would be my lunch.). Then, I would head out into the neighborhood. Others would do the same. We would round up our bats, gloves and baseballs, and head to another neighborhood to play their team. No parental supervision here. A left -over player, or a spectator, would serve as umpire. After the game we often would head for the sandstone quarries in Berea. The abandoned Quarries had filled with water, and were deep and cold. We would go “skinny dipping” in the ice cold water. It’s a wonder we all didn’t get cramps and drown. After our diving and swimming it was time to head home for supper - tired but
I don’t think I realized about all the trust they placed in me, and yet I remember my Dad telling me that all they expected of me was to try my hardest, and give my best effort. This is all that they could ask. This philosophy seemed fair enough to me, and all I could ask in return. Such trust was very strong! I never would have considered disappointing or disgracing them with unacceptable behavior.
I remember “testing” my Dad when I was around 10 years old. We were playing outside one night after supper, and he called me over to reprimand me for something I’d either done - or hadn’t done. Instead of complying, I just started running around the side of the house. I guess I figured that the “old guy” couldn’t catch me (he was 38). Surprise! I hadn’t taken too many steps, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. He took off his belt and gave me a couple of whacks. I am sure that he told me not to do that again - as if I hadn’t learned a lesson. And yet, my Dad was compassionate, with a good sense of humor.
My Dad played the e-flat alto -horn ( similar to a French horn.), in the Hillsdale and Berea Community Bands. I used to carry his horn from the car to the bandstand and back - I was so proud of him, and it was such an honor. I can thank him for my great appreciation of music today - even the Dixieland Jazz Band - that plays for us here, at Quail Creek! I wish that I had talked to him more about his horn because I later played the same horn during my sophomore year in high school. I knew that his family were all musical, because their mother (my grandma L’Amoreaux) taught all nine of her kids how to play at least one instrument. My Dad also played the violin. My Dad got four other young musicians together (they were all in their 20’s) and formed the L’Amoreaux Orchestra. (Quintet would have been more descriptive - Dad on the violin, a drummer, sax, piano and trumpet players. His piano player, Dudley Vernon, wrote the tune for the score “Sweetheart of Sigma Chi”. At one time, my Dad had the original score(?). The orchestra would practice in the evenings at our house in Hillsdale, and play for square dances on weekends. I can attribute my music appreciation to listening to the community band concerts and the quintet practicing at our house.
My Dad taught me how to drive a car. I don’t remember, but he apparently just had to sign off on it. I don’t remember taking a written or driving test. He taught me the great responsibility to, and for others, I had as a driver. I would like to thank him for my training. I have had only one accident, and a couple of tickets, in 75 years of driving. While we had only one car, it wasn’t a problem. I would tell my Dad where I was driving - and he would tell me what time he wanted me home with the car! He didn’t ask who I would be with, but I am sure that he knew that we double and triple dated.
I traveled a lot on my Dad’s rail pass. First of all, to get places, and too, I really enjoyed the thrill of riding on the trains - fast or slow. I enjoyed the dining cars, the Pullmans and the Observation cars. I enjoyed the sounds and smells from the engine and couplings between cars - the smell of the mohair upholstering. I didn’t enjoy the smells of the toilets or the engine soot flying in the open coach windows- (there weren’t any air conditioned cars back in the 30’s.). He never refused letting me use it - or ordering me a separate pass on a non- New York Central rail road. I went from Ypsilanti to Niagara Falls with my sister Jeanne (20 months younger) during the winter of 1939-40 when the weight of the frozen ice, was too much for the suspension bridge, between New York and Canada and it fell down into the Falls and Niagara River. We walked around the area - took some pictures - and caught the next train home. I also visited New York City, and their World’s Fair, in 1939, and the San Francisco Exhibition, in 1940. My Dad got “passes”, on “foreign” railroads for both of these trips. I also visited my Aunt Nellie, in Chicago, alone, when I was 5 or 6 years old. My parents put me on the train, and the conductor delivered me to my Aunt Nellie, at the Englewood Station in Chicago. Somehow, I knew that if she wasn’t there when the train arrived, I should go to the large black policeman (Uncle Charlie”) and wait with him until she got there. On one occasion, she wasn’t at the train to meet me, when the conductor told me to get off. I spotted the policeman, and went over and asked him if he had “seen my Aunt Nellie? He told me to stand next to him until she got there. Sure enough - it wasn’t long until she arrived. I don’t remember being scared or worried - that’s the way it was supposed to happen.
My Dad was a good bowler. The alleys weren’t air conditioned, so most of the bowling was done during the winter months. He belonged to a railroad -bowling league, when we lived in Hillsdale. There was a regional railroad -bowling tournament in Chicago, which their team entered. He took me along with him which, at about 10 years old, I thought was pretty special!
My Dad was compassionate. He became a convert to Catholicism twenty years after my Mom and Dad wee married. I don’t remember her putting any pressure on him, he must have known how much it meant to her, and started taking “Instructions.” My Mother and Dad took care of Mom’s mother and her aunt Nellie (her Mom’s sister), when they could no longer care for them selves. This went on for a few years. For a couple of those years, she was taking care of both of them at the same time in our home in Ypsilanti. They both died there. My parents had a downstairs bedroom, and bath. An example of his compassion, was suggesting to my Mom that they give up their bedroom to her mother, and they would move upstairs - where there was no bathroom. After Grandma’s death (both Grandma Flood and Aunt Nellie died in our house.) Aunt Nellie inherited their bedroom until her death.
My Dad was more conservative than my Mother. I remember him turning down a promotion with the railroad during the Depression, because he didn’t want the added responsibility. Yet, he was compassionate. After our recent move from Vallejo to Fairfield, I ran across a big bundle of letters that I had written to Marie - both before we were married, and when I was overseas in the South Pacific. She had saved all of them. I was browsing through them last night and ran across one from my Mom and Dad to her while I was in the South Pacific. Here is an excerpt written by my Dad to her: (Circa Nov. 1, 1945 - Ypsilanti.)
“Dear Pete: Wonderful Fall, but won’t be long and we will be shivering and shoveling snow again. Too bad you aren’t out here when we have nice warm weather like you do in California. Don’t know what to tell you about Ray, isn’t it wonderful that he is really coming?
I think if you two can swing it , that it would be wonderful for him to go to school, with this scientific age coming up. A fellow without a good education will kind of be left behind I would think. (my Dad was just a high school graduate. He had to start working to help his family support his mom and dad Still, he has learned a lot while in the Army which should make his college work much easier. But, hat is something you two will have to work out. (My Dad was just a high school graduate. He had to start working to help support his mom and dad.)
It might seem hard to have to sacrifice for a few years, but after that, when the fruits of his hard work have produced, you will thank yourselves a a million times, that you gave up something now for a lot more later on. Then, there is the possibility of going into some kind of business for himself, and being your own boss, which means a lot. And he might contact Ray Russo (my cousin) as he is in the American Airlines and might be able to do something for him.
There are so many things to consider when he gets back and you two talk things over . Am sure you will come to the right conclusion. Whatever you decide, always remember a 50-50 proposition is always the best. The idea of one doing all the sacrificing, and not the other, will never work out.
Here I am preaching instead of advising. Any way, I know you get what I mean.
It is going to be wonderful to look forward to seeing you two again, and hope it may be soon. So glad your Mother is improving.
Love,
Dad.
(Note: I can’t remember how much my Dad’s words of wisdom played in our decision for me to go to college, while Pete works to support us, along with the G.I.Bill. In any case, I went to The University of Michigan for a year , and then transferred - and finished - at Cal -Berkeley. Pete worked as a Secretary at Kaiser-Fraser at willow Run, Michigan, Kaiser Industries in Oakland and California research in Richmond (Cal).
My Mother had a great zest for life! She was also a very brave and courageous woman. She lived alone - as a widow - for 30 years. She enjoyed something as simple as “people watching” from our 1936 Chevy, listening to the band concerts on Saturday evening in Berea. She would take her bath first thing in the morning and dress, so that if anyone invited her to go to the Mall, or to a movie she would be “ready”, and wouldn’t keep them waiting. All of her younger friends, and the family, knew this so she received many invitations for an outing. Speaking of not wanting to inconvenience people to wait for her, she told the story of waiting in the front door-way for Virginia and Pete Parin to pick her up for 5:00 Mass on Saturdays. On one occasion, the paper boy delivered the paper while she was standing there. On the following Saturday, the same thing happened! The young paper boy said, “Mrs. L’Amoreaux, are you still waiting?” She had a good relationship with him. She used to bake cookies just for the mailman, paper boy and Parins’ young son, who mowed her lawn!
The first sign of the support, and closeness of our family, was probably when I graduated from the Air Corps Bombardier School - when I received my 2nd Lt. commission and Bombardier Wings. The Class was 42-15, the date was October 31, 1942 (almost 66 years ago!) and the location was Victorville, California. My Mom and Dad, sister Jeanne and Youngest brother Jack were there from Ypsilanti. My brother Bob would have been there, but he was busy with the Coast Guard. I can still remember how proud I was to have all of them there.
The next time I got to see my Mother was in March 1943, We had just received our new B-17, and we were on our way to flying it, and our ten man crew, overseas. At the time, we knew not where our final destination would be. I knew that we were supposed to fly out of Morrison Field at West Palm Beach. I don’t remember that this information was “Classified”. In any event I told her the location. I can’t remember if it was her idea or mine, But the next thing that I knew, she was on the train heading for Florida! She arrived during the time that we were supposed to be there. The only catch is that our crew hadn’t arrived yet! Fortunately, I was able to get her a hotel reservation in West Palm Beach. In the meantime, we had left Kearney, and were flying routinely to West Palm. Near Jackson (Mississippi) one of the engines started running “rough” (this was a new airplane?) Our pilot, Ken Spinning, feathered the prop, leaving us to fly on three engines. He got permission to land at Jackson, and we proceeded to land there. After the mechanics examined the faulty engine, he said that we needed an engine change, and it would take about a week!
So, I was in a quandary:- My mother was waiting for me at a hotel in West Palm Beach, and I was stuck on the base at Jackson - some 900 miles away. So, I phoned her and asked her if she could take the train to Jackson. Otherwise, we might not get to see each other before we took off for our overseas destination. She agreed to do so, and I don’t remember her complaining. I made a reservation for her at a hotel in Jackson and waited for her arrival. I particularly remember one evening meal we had together at the hotel. She liked shrimp and frog legs. Both were on the menu, and she ordered both! Things seemed to be happening so fast that it was a blur. I don’t remember asking her about her return trip to Ypsilanti. What was strange, I don’t remember taking me to kindergarten on the first day of school - yet, here she is twenty years later seeing me off to my overseas assignment!
Speaking of Mom’s “zest for life”, she liked to travel - anyplace - anytime! I was home on R & R Leave after returning from overseas. (November, 1943.) I planned to pick up my 1941 maroon Chevy convertible. My folks garaged and drove it while I was gone overseas. It was only proper, as they were making my monthly -car payments of $37.00/month. (When I first enlisted, I was receiving only $21 a month as a private!). My new assignment was pilot training, and I was assigned to Santa Ana for processing. In passing I didn’t think much about it, and asked her if she would like to ride along? The next thing that I knew she was busy packing her suitcase to go along. She left a note on the kitchen table for my Dad to read, when he returned from work that evening. “Dear Pete: Have gone to California with Ray. Love, Bessie.”
And off we went.
I left her off, at the Union Railroad Station in L.A., for her return trip. Without a reservation, she was on “Standby” for a seat - with the military having priority. The next day, I drove to the station to check on her. Much to my surprise, she was still sitting in the same place as the day before! I checked the next day - and she was gone. She told me that she got on the train but “Standing Room Only”. So she sat on her suitcase. Finally, a military person offered her his seat. But then, she didn’t have anything to eat. She said that she was afraid to go to the diner, because someone would take her seat. Finally, someone would bring a sandwich back to her! She sat up for three days on the train. When she got home her ankles were so swollen she could hardly walk. She spent two days in bed.
When Mom was my age now, she took two trips to Europe - Ireland and Italy!
During my last two years of high school, and first year at Baldwin Wallace college, Dody Curtis and I went “Steady”. She still tells me how thrilled she was when my Mother gave her a surprise party on her 16th birthday - the only birthday party that she ever had.
I used to hang out with my brother Bob and his friends - even though they were younger than I was. We would stay out late on Saturday nights playing cards at one of our houses, even pitching pennies below the street light. Many nights we would bowl. We would wait until midnight, when the ally’s would “Close”. The owner would let us bowl for “free”, but we would have to “set” our own pins. They were all set-up manually, but all the regular pinsetters had gone home. We would bowl a game ‘ and low score bowler would set pins. I usually won the “honor”. You didn’t know how difficult and hard work it was to set bowling pins until you tried it. It was so late the other guys were afraid to go home, so they came home with Bob and I. The next morning, their mothers would call and ask if their son was there. My Mother would ask them to “Hold”, and she would check. She would look at the shoes on the stairs, and knew who the owners were. Then, she would return to the phone with her answer.
After writing all of these pages, I haven’t answered Fabi’s questions! I have pointed out the big influence that my parents have played, by their example, in forming my character. I also have had other mentors, such as Sister Edith, a Dominican Nun, who taught my 7th and 8th grade classes at St. Mary’s School in Berea. She was also the principal. She taught me the Latin responses and the proper procedures as an altar boy.
Mr. Judson was also a big help. He was my Scoutmaster for Troop 215 at the Congregational Church in Berea.
I also had the extra curricular activities in high school - band and athletics (football and track) which taught me discipline, teamwork and sacrifice.
Each of us should try and recall what helped to form their character, careers and philosophy of life. While it is sometimes painful, it also brings back many pleasant memories, and what has really mattered during the ensuing years.
Some of us attribute our fate to “being at the right place at the right time”. I like to think of it as “Spirituality.” I have always tried to do my best. And to treat the other guy as I would like to be treated in the same situation. I have tried to use my time the best way that I could. I have always looked forward to learning new things and seeing new people and new places.
In 1993, Marie and I visited France. We spent a week in Meschers where my French ancestors lived, before leaving as persecuted Huguenots in 1685. It was not only a thrill, but I had a strange feeling in just walking the same ground that they did, so many years ago.
From Meschers, we went back to Paris and took a bus tour of France.
Our stop at the American Cemetery, above Omaha Beach, was very emotional for me. I can’t explain it. All I know is : that when I looked out on those 10,000 white crosses, tears came to my eyes as I kept wondering “Why them and not me? Why was my life spared? In the “Big Picture” what is my mission? This feeling is still with me. I continue to try and answer the question, and try to do the best with my time that I can.
Marie and I visited Italy in 1985, and I had a similar feeling of guilt. We were riding on the tour bus through Naples - on our way to the Isle of Capris. I had seen Naples before - many times - in a much different setting. I was riding in the nose of a B-17 at 25,000 feet, setting up the Norden bombsight for a 6,000 pound bomb drop on the shipping in the Bay of Naples. Naples was one of our roughest missions - both German fighter wise and flak wise. We lost a few crews who could not get out of their disabled planes. Others managed to bail out and, hopefully, were captured in the water, or on the ground. But, on this beautiful sunny day such a scene seemed very remote. I never knew how close the German 88 shells, or the 20 mm cannon shells from Goerring’s (yellow -prop spinners) ME-109’s and FW -190’s were coming. Just as well. But, again, I was spared! On this peaceful day, today, war seemed very remote.
So, Fabi, I don’t feel that I have given you very satisfactory answers to your two questions. I have tried to have at least give you some framework and background that have gone into my life, and Marie’s and our nearly 64 years of marriage.
The October 27th Wall Street Journal had a quarter page ad by Wachovia Securities. (Wachovia has been taken over by Wells Fargo).
“THE WISDOM OF AGE. THE STRENGTH OF EXPERIENCE.”
While this is good theory, I don’t know how many of us measure up.
Ray L’Amoreaux.
October 25, 2008.
October 29, 2008.
The year 1918 was a critical one, as the world was experiencing an influenza epidemic. I never talked to my Mother about it, but now, I wish that I had. So, I don’t know whether either of us had it, but I doubt it. Or, we probably wouldn’t have survived.
I was talking to Fabi, our Receptionist at Quail Creek, the other day. I mentioned that my 90th birthday was coming up next month. She asked me what I attributed to living so long. Then, after I told her that Marie and I would be celebrating our 64th wedding anniversary in December, she asked each of us as to “what was our secret?” I never dwelled on these questions before, although I, too, thought about them - primarily due to my Mother living almost 100 years. Too, only my Grandparents L’Amoreaux celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. So, it wasn’t too common when I was growing up. Centenarians were few and far between , also.
So, I guess now is the time to reflect on how I should answer the question of reaching the “Old-old” age category, and long marriage. (Theoretically, our marriage should never have lasted. We dated only a few times and hadn’t seen each other for about four months before our wedding day!). But, maybe this is the secret! But, where do I start? And how? What do I say? Well, here goes.
When I was growing up in Hillsdale - and later in Berea, Ohio - I didn’t receive the smothering attention from my parents, that today’s smaller families receive - even though I was the first born, with one sister and two brothers. Back in the 30’s mothers and fathers worked much harder, with longer hours, than they do today. They had longer workdays, and workweeks, without all the labor-saving devices of today. My Dad used to work Saturdays later changed to Saturday morning (No overtime pay for Saturday work back then - until the Great Depression.
We were raised to be responsible for our selves - to a point where they could trust us to comply. My parents never became involved in my school-work! It was my responsibility to perform, and if not, to answer to the teacher. I don’t remember if the PTA was invented back then. I do remember that I never saw them attend one of my sporting events - whether it was sandlot baseball or high school -athletics.
When I was very young - probably 8 or 9 years old - in the 1920’s, I had a magazine route in Hillsdale. I sold the Saturday Evening Post, Ladies Home Journal and Country Gentleman magazines - door to door. In the summer, I would pull the heavy magazines in my wagon. In the winter, I would haul them on my Flexible Flyer sled. I didn’t have an “Allowance”, so this was my spending money. When I was about 10, I got a paper route. I saved enough to buy my first bike - a 26 inch one. I don’t know where I got the experience to make these decisions, “on the job training”, I guess. I must have gotten some advice from my parents, at such an early age, but I just don’t recall any.
During the school year, I would come home from school and check on my Mom to make sure that she was o.k., change my “school clothes”, and head out to play with the neighborhood kids until supper time. During the summers, I would fix me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, wrap it and put it in my pocket. (This would be my lunch.). Then, I would head out into the neighborhood. Others would do the same. We would round up our bats, gloves and baseballs, and head to another neighborhood to play their team. No parental supervision here. A left -over player, or a spectator, would serve as umpire. After the game we often would head for the sandstone quarries in Berea. The abandoned Quarries had filled with water, and were deep and cold. We would go “skinny dipping” in the ice cold water. It’s a wonder we all didn’t get cramps and drown. After our diving and swimming it was time to head home for supper - tired but
I don’t think I realized about all the trust they placed in me, and yet I remember my Dad telling me that all they expected of me was to try my hardest, and give my best effort. This is all that they could ask. This philosophy seemed fair enough to me, and all I could ask in return. Such trust was very strong! I never would have considered disappointing or disgracing them with unacceptable behavior.
I remember “testing” my Dad when I was around 10 years old. We were playing outside one night after supper, and he called me over to reprimand me for something I’d either done - or hadn’t done. Instead of complying, I just started running around the side of the house. I guess I figured that the “old guy” couldn’t catch me (he was 38). Surprise! I hadn’t taken too many steps, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. He took off his belt and gave me a couple of whacks. I am sure that he told me not to do that again - as if I hadn’t learned a lesson. And yet, my Dad was compassionate, with a good sense of humor.
My Dad played the e-flat alto -horn ( similar to a French horn.), in the Hillsdale and Berea Community Bands. I used to carry his horn from the car to the bandstand and back - I was so proud of him, and it was such an honor. I can thank him for my great appreciation of music today - even the Dixieland Jazz Band - that plays for us here, at Quail Creek! I wish that I had talked to him more about his horn because I later played the same horn during my sophomore year in high school. I knew that his family were all musical, because their mother (my grandma L’Amoreaux) taught all nine of her kids how to play at least one instrument. My Dad also played the violin. My Dad got four other young musicians together (they were all in their 20’s) and formed the L’Amoreaux Orchestra. (Quintet would have been more descriptive - Dad on the violin, a drummer, sax, piano and trumpet players. His piano player, Dudley Vernon, wrote the tune for the score “Sweetheart of Sigma Chi”. At one time, my Dad had the original score(?). The orchestra would practice in the evenings at our house in Hillsdale, and play for square dances on weekends. I can attribute my music appreciation to listening to the community band concerts and the quintet practicing at our house.
My Dad taught me how to drive a car. I don’t remember, but he apparently just had to sign off on it. I don’t remember taking a written or driving test. He taught me the great responsibility to, and for others, I had as a driver. I would like to thank him for my training. I have had only one accident, and a couple of tickets, in 75 years of driving. While we had only one car, it wasn’t a problem. I would tell my Dad where I was driving - and he would tell me what time he wanted me home with the car! He didn’t ask who I would be with, but I am sure that he knew that we double and triple dated.
I traveled a lot on my Dad’s rail pass. First of all, to get places, and too, I really enjoyed the thrill of riding on the trains - fast or slow. I enjoyed the dining cars, the Pullmans and the Observation cars. I enjoyed the sounds and smells from the engine and couplings between cars - the smell of the mohair upholstering. I didn’t enjoy the smells of the toilets or the engine soot flying in the open coach windows- (there weren’t any air conditioned cars back in the 30’s.). He never refused letting me use it - or ordering me a separate pass on a non- New York Central rail road. I went from Ypsilanti to Niagara Falls with my sister Jeanne (20 months younger) during the winter of 1939-40 when the weight of the frozen ice, was too much for the suspension bridge, between New York and Canada and it fell down into the Falls and Niagara River. We walked around the area - took some pictures - and caught the next train home. I also visited New York City, and their World’s Fair, in 1939, and the San Francisco Exhibition, in 1940. My Dad got “passes”, on “foreign” railroads for both of these trips. I also visited my Aunt Nellie, in Chicago, alone, when I was 5 or 6 years old. My parents put me on the train, and the conductor delivered me to my Aunt Nellie, at the Englewood Station in Chicago. Somehow, I knew that if she wasn’t there when the train arrived, I should go to the large black policeman (Uncle Charlie”) and wait with him until she got there. On one occasion, she wasn’t at the train to meet me, when the conductor told me to get off. I spotted the policeman, and went over and asked him if he had “seen my Aunt Nellie? He told me to stand next to him until she got there. Sure enough - it wasn’t long until she arrived. I don’t remember being scared or worried - that’s the way it was supposed to happen.
My Dad was a good bowler. The alleys weren’t air conditioned, so most of the bowling was done during the winter months. He belonged to a railroad -bowling league, when we lived in Hillsdale. There was a regional railroad -bowling tournament in Chicago, which their team entered. He took me along with him which, at about 10 years old, I thought was pretty special!
My Dad was compassionate. He became a convert to Catholicism twenty years after my Mom and Dad wee married. I don’t remember her putting any pressure on him, he must have known how much it meant to her, and started taking “Instructions.” My Mother and Dad took care of Mom’s mother and her aunt Nellie (her Mom’s sister), when they could no longer care for them selves. This went on for a few years. For a couple of those years, she was taking care of both of them at the same time in our home in Ypsilanti. They both died there. My parents had a downstairs bedroom, and bath. An example of his compassion, was suggesting to my Mom that they give up their bedroom to her mother, and they would move upstairs - where there was no bathroom. After Grandma’s death (both Grandma Flood and Aunt Nellie died in our house.) Aunt Nellie inherited their bedroom until her death.
My Dad was more conservative than my Mother. I remember him turning down a promotion with the railroad during the Depression, because he didn’t want the added responsibility. Yet, he was compassionate. After our recent move from Vallejo to Fairfield, I ran across a big bundle of letters that I had written to Marie - both before we were married, and when I was overseas in the South Pacific. She had saved all of them. I was browsing through them last night and ran across one from my Mom and Dad to her while I was in the South Pacific. Here is an excerpt written by my Dad to her: (Circa Nov. 1, 1945 - Ypsilanti.)
“Dear Pete: Wonderful Fall, but won’t be long and we will be shivering and shoveling snow again. Too bad you aren’t out here when we have nice warm weather like you do in California. Don’t know what to tell you about Ray, isn’t it wonderful that he is really coming?
I think if you two can swing it , that it would be wonderful for him to go to school, with this scientific age coming up. A fellow without a good education will kind of be left behind I would think. (my Dad was just a high school graduate. He had to start working to help his family support his mom and dad Still, he has learned a lot while in the Army which should make his college work much easier. But, hat is something you two will have to work out. (My Dad was just a high school graduate. He had to start working to help support his mom and dad.)
It might seem hard to have to sacrifice for a few years, but after that, when the fruits of his hard work have produced, you will thank yourselves a a million times, that you gave up something now for a lot more later on. Then, there is the possibility of going into some kind of business for himself, and being your own boss, which means a lot. And he might contact Ray Russo (my cousin) as he is in the American Airlines and might be able to do something for him.
There are so many things to consider when he gets back and you two talk things over . Am sure you will come to the right conclusion. Whatever you decide, always remember a 50-50 proposition is always the best. The idea of one doing all the sacrificing, and not the other, will never work out.
Here I am preaching instead of advising. Any way, I know you get what I mean.
It is going to be wonderful to look forward to seeing you two again, and hope it may be soon. So glad your Mother is improving.
Love,
Dad.
(Note: I can’t remember how much my Dad’s words of wisdom played in our decision for me to go to college, while Pete works to support us, along with the G.I.Bill. In any case, I went to The University of Michigan for a year , and then transferred - and finished - at Cal -Berkeley. Pete worked as a Secretary at Kaiser-Fraser at willow Run, Michigan, Kaiser Industries in Oakland and California research in Richmond (Cal).
My Mother had a great zest for life! She was also a very brave and courageous woman. She lived alone - as a widow - for 30 years. She enjoyed something as simple as “people watching” from our 1936 Chevy, listening to the band concerts on Saturday evening in Berea. She would take her bath first thing in the morning and dress, so that if anyone invited her to go to the Mall, or to a movie she would be “ready”, and wouldn’t keep them waiting. All of her younger friends, and the family, knew this so she received many invitations for an outing. Speaking of not wanting to inconvenience people to wait for her, she told the story of waiting in the front door-way for Virginia and Pete Parin to pick her up for 5:00 Mass on Saturdays. On one occasion, the paper boy delivered the paper while she was standing there. On the following Saturday, the same thing happened! The young paper boy said, “Mrs. L’Amoreaux, are you still waiting?” She had a good relationship with him. She used to bake cookies just for the mailman, paper boy and Parins’ young son, who mowed her lawn!
The first sign of the support, and closeness of our family, was probably when I graduated from the Air Corps Bombardier School - when I received my 2nd Lt. commission and Bombardier Wings. The Class was 42-15, the date was October 31, 1942 (almost 66 years ago!) and the location was Victorville, California. My Mom and Dad, sister Jeanne and Youngest brother Jack were there from Ypsilanti. My brother Bob would have been there, but he was busy with the Coast Guard. I can still remember how proud I was to have all of them there.
The next time I got to see my Mother was in March 1943, We had just received our new B-17, and we were on our way to flying it, and our ten man crew, overseas. At the time, we knew not where our final destination would be. I knew that we were supposed to fly out of Morrison Field at West Palm Beach. I don’t remember that this information was “Classified”. In any event I told her the location. I can’t remember if it was her idea or mine, But the next thing that I knew, she was on the train heading for Florida! She arrived during the time that we were supposed to be there. The only catch is that our crew hadn’t arrived yet! Fortunately, I was able to get her a hotel reservation in West Palm Beach. In the meantime, we had left Kearney, and were flying routinely to West Palm. Near Jackson (Mississippi) one of the engines started running “rough” (this was a new airplane?) Our pilot, Ken Spinning, feathered the prop, leaving us to fly on three engines. He got permission to land at Jackson, and we proceeded to land there. After the mechanics examined the faulty engine, he said that we needed an engine change, and it would take about a week!
So, I was in a quandary:- My mother was waiting for me at a hotel in West Palm Beach, and I was stuck on the base at Jackson - some 900 miles away. So, I phoned her and asked her if she could take the train to Jackson. Otherwise, we might not get to see each other before we took off for our overseas destination. She agreed to do so, and I don’t remember her complaining. I made a reservation for her at a hotel in Jackson and waited for her arrival. I particularly remember one evening meal we had together at the hotel. She liked shrimp and frog legs. Both were on the menu, and she ordered both! Things seemed to be happening so fast that it was a blur. I don’t remember asking her about her return trip to Ypsilanti. What was strange, I don’t remember taking me to kindergarten on the first day of school - yet, here she is twenty years later seeing me off to my overseas assignment!
Speaking of Mom’s “zest for life”, she liked to travel - anyplace - anytime! I was home on R & R Leave after returning from overseas. (November, 1943.) I planned to pick up my 1941 maroon Chevy convertible. My folks garaged and drove it while I was gone overseas. It was only proper, as they were making my monthly -car payments of $37.00/month. (When I first enlisted, I was receiving only $21 a month as a private!). My new assignment was pilot training, and I was assigned to Santa Ana for processing. In passing I didn’t think much about it, and asked her if she would like to ride along? The next thing that I knew she was busy packing her suitcase to go along. She left a note on the kitchen table for my Dad to read, when he returned from work that evening. “Dear Pete: Have gone to California with Ray. Love, Bessie.”
And off we went.
I left her off, at the Union Railroad Station in L.A., for her return trip. Without a reservation, she was on “Standby” for a seat - with the military having priority. The next day, I drove to the station to check on her. Much to my surprise, she was still sitting in the same place as the day before! I checked the next day - and she was gone. She told me that she got on the train but “Standing Room Only”. So she sat on her suitcase. Finally, a military person offered her his seat. But then, she didn’t have anything to eat. She said that she was afraid to go to the diner, because someone would take her seat. Finally, someone would bring a sandwich back to her! She sat up for three days on the train. When she got home her ankles were so swollen she could hardly walk. She spent two days in bed.
When Mom was my age now, she took two trips to Europe - Ireland and Italy!
During my last two years of high school, and first year at Baldwin Wallace college, Dody Curtis and I went “Steady”. She still tells me how thrilled she was when my Mother gave her a surprise party on her 16th birthday - the only birthday party that she ever had.
I used to hang out with my brother Bob and his friends - even though they were younger than I was. We would stay out late on Saturday nights playing cards at one of our houses, even pitching pennies below the street light. Many nights we would bowl. We would wait until midnight, when the ally’s would “Close”. The owner would let us bowl for “free”, but we would have to “set” our own pins. They were all set-up manually, but all the regular pinsetters had gone home. We would bowl a game ‘ and low score bowler would set pins. I usually won the “honor”. You didn’t know how difficult and hard work it was to set bowling pins until you tried it. It was so late the other guys were afraid to go home, so they came home with Bob and I. The next morning, their mothers would call and ask if their son was there. My Mother would ask them to “Hold”, and she would check. She would look at the shoes on the stairs, and knew who the owners were. Then, she would return to the phone with her answer.
After writing all of these pages, I haven’t answered Fabi’s questions! I have pointed out the big influence that my parents have played, by their example, in forming my character. I also have had other mentors, such as Sister Edith, a Dominican Nun, who taught my 7th and 8th grade classes at St. Mary’s School in Berea. She was also the principal. She taught me the Latin responses and the proper procedures as an altar boy.
Mr. Judson was also a big help. He was my Scoutmaster for Troop 215 at the Congregational Church in Berea.
I also had the extra curricular activities in high school - band and athletics (football and track) which taught me discipline, teamwork and sacrifice.
Each of us should try and recall what helped to form their character, careers and philosophy of life. While it is sometimes painful, it also brings back many pleasant memories, and what has really mattered during the ensuing years.
Some of us attribute our fate to “being at the right place at the right time”. I like to think of it as “Spirituality.” I have always tried to do my best. And to treat the other guy as I would like to be treated in the same situation. I have tried to use my time the best way that I could. I have always looked forward to learning new things and seeing new people and new places.
In 1993, Marie and I visited France. We spent a week in Meschers where my French ancestors lived, before leaving as persecuted Huguenots in 1685. It was not only a thrill, but I had a strange feeling in just walking the same ground that they did, so many years ago.
From Meschers, we went back to Paris and took a bus tour of France.
Our stop at the American Cemetery, above Omaha Beach, was very emotional for me. I can’t explain it. All I know is : that when I looked out on those 10,000 white crosses, tears came to my eyes as I kept wondering “Why them and not me? Why was my life spared? In the “Big Picture” what is my mission? This feeling is still with me. I continue to try and answer the question, and try to do the best with my time that I can.
Marie and I visited Italy in 1985, and I had a similar feeling of guilt. We were riding on the tour bus through Naples - on our way to the Isle of Capris. I had seen Naples before - many times - in a much different setting. I was riding in the nose of a B-17 at 25,000 feet, setting up the Norden bombsight for a 6,000 pound bomb drop on the shipping in the Bay of Naples. Naples was one of our roughest missions - both German fighter wise and flak wise. We lost a few crews who could not get out of their disabled planes. Others managed to bail out and, hopefully, were captured in the water, or on the ground. But, on this beautiful sunny day such a scene seemed very remote. I never knew how close the German 88 shells, or the 20 mm cannon shells from Goerring’s (yellow -prop spinners) ME-109’s and FW -190’s were coming. Just as well. But, again, I was spared! On this peaceful day, today, war seemed very remote.
So, Fabi, I don’t feel that I have given you very satisfactory answers to your two questions. I have tried to have at least give you some framework and background that have gone into my life, and Marie’s and our nearly 64 years of marriage.
The October 27th Wall Street Journal had a quarter page ad by Wachovia Securities. (Wachovia has been taken over by Wells Fargo).
“THE WISDOM OF AGE. THE STRENGTH OF EXPERIENCE.”
While this is good theory, I don’t know how many of us measure up.
Ray L’Amoreaux.
October 25, 2008.
October 29, 2008.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Wednesday Outing - Travis AFB Museum
Wednesday Outing - Travis AFB Museum - Oct. 8, 2008.
The six passengers, Kelli and Tony, Pulled away from Quail Creek at 10:40. We are headed to Travis Air Force Base Museum, for our Wednesday “Outing”. I am looking forward to the day. I saw the Museum many years ago, when it first opened. I know that they have added planes since then.
It is a beautiful day - warm and no wind! Tony heads South on Dover. He turns left onto Airbase Parkway. We take this nice boulevard all the way on to the Air Base. Not much traffic going either way this time of day. I haven’t been out here in many years. The last time was at an Armed forces celebration - many years ago. They featured the Army’s parachute team, and the Thunderbirds stunt group.
We passed the David Grant Medical Center. The hospital has been enlarged since I last saw it. We arrived at the Main Gate - and were cleared to enter - at 0952. Now, There is plenty of local traffic on the Base - moving in all different directions.
What a coincidence! Tony parked in front of one of the planes stored outside that was very familiar to me. It was a Convair T-29, the same type that I flew at Mather Field in Sacramento during the Korean War (1951 - 1953.) If I checked my old flight log, I might have flown this very plane as we had a lot of the T-29’s at Mather. I flew B-25’s out of Mather, before transitioning to the Convair. This Billy Mitchell twin-engine medium bomber was the same type of plane that General Jimmy Doolittle and his group flew off the Hornet on their 1942 raid on Tokyo.
The narrative plate stated that it was one of the best transport plane produced after the workhorse C-47 - during WW II. It was an easy plane to fly, and with it’s wide landing gear it was very pilot forgiving, and safer. We flew B-47 pilots up and down the State - with legs up to Seattle at the northern end, and over to Phoenix, from Los Angeles, at the Southern end. Occasionally, we would fly a couple of hours out over the Pacific, and back, to give the students in the back over-water-navigation training. Two pilots manned the B-47. The plane didn’t carry a navigator, or bombardier, so the pilots were trained in all three skills. Generally, we cruised at about 160 knots and at 8,000 feet. We used oxygen above 10,000 feet in the daytime, and 8,000 feet at night. We filed a flight plan because we were controlled by the FAA. We would radio a position report to their control every hour we were in the air. The cockpits were very comfortable - roomy with soft chairs - instead of the usual cramped sitting area.
Normally, we would make a practice -ground controlled approach (GCA) landing after each mission. A few times it was because of necessity due to poor landing visibility.
The T-29 was very similar to the Convair 240, that the airlines were flying - except for the configuration in the back. In the T-29, tables and chairs were installed for the instructors and students, replacing the passenger seats on the airliner.
Kelly saw that I was interested in the plane, and offered to take my picture - with it in the background. Then, I walked around to get a close-up look at some fighter planes parked nearby.
Parked on the ramp nearby were the following fighter aircraft - F-104; F-105; F-86; F-84-F; F-101-B; and a F-102A. While I had heard of these planes, I had never seen them up close like this. Nearby was a C-45H which interested me. I flew a similar one on a cross-country trip from Maxwell Field, in Montgomery, Alabama to Willow Run, Michigan, and return. The Air Corps used this plane as a transport during the war, as well as to train some twin-engine cadets, The C-45 was changed a bit and used for other trainers such as the AT-7 for navigators, and the At-11 model, for bombardier training. While I didn’t fly this latter model, I did have over 100 hours flying in it as an “Observer”. This was when I received my bombardier training at Victorville - on the edge of the Mojave desert. We would drop 100 pound practice -sand bombs on nearby targets. The AT-11 bombardier training plane plane had a top speed of 215 mph, and a service ceiling of 20,000 feet. But we cruised at 150 during our bombing runs - usually flown at 8,000 feet. We had a few low-level drops.
It was at Victorville, that I ran into “Flying Sargeants”. Due to a shortage of pilots, the Air Corps decided to dispense with the 2nd Lt. commission for these civilian pilots, and bring them in with Staff Sergeant rankings. They were all experienced and good pilots. They later were promoted to the rank of “Flight Officer”.
Next to the At-11 was a huge Douglas C-124 Globe master - a four prop job that had a gross weight of 216,000 pounds when fully loaded at take-off.
Also, one of the Lockheed family of C-45‘s; AT-7‘s and AT-11‘s was the Lockheed UC-78. Many student pilots referred to the UC-78 as the “Bamboo Bomber”. I did fly this latter model in Basic-Flight Training, along with a similar model - the Cessna AT-17 - out of Minter Field in Bakersfield. Student pilots, who were likely to end up as multi-engine pilots were usually assigned to fly twin-engine trainers in their basic- flight training; where “fighter” pilots would receive their Basic training in a plane like the Vultee BT-13.
Just before entering the large hangar, there was a O2A, which I had never seen before. It had a front and rear propeller, and was used for observations. It certainly was distinctive looking.
Inside the hangar was a Stearman, which brought back many positive memories of learning to fly, during my Primary Flight Training. I also met my future wife there! (We will be married 64 years - and have five daughters - on December 23, 2008!). My training was a little easier because I was a Student Officer, rather than a Cadet.
The Strearman PT-13 was a tricky plane to land, but very good for stalls and acrobatics. The landings were difficult, because if you had the slightest amount of drift at touchdown, there was a good chance that you would ground loop. The main reasons for this were the narrow landing gear plus, the plane was a biplane, and this extra-wing weight made it top heavy. Without a nose wheel, we made dead-stick - three-point (usually) landings, This condition reduced the control of the aircraft close to the ground.
I was very fortunate to have an experienced civilian - Instructor pilot, who had many flying hours - barnstorming; flying the mail; instructing; crop dusting etc. While I never had to use his admonition, I never forgot his words of wisdom: When practicing “simulated engine failure” (power off), he told me to always maintain my safe flying speed (above a stall) - even if I had to fly through a brick wall. It would still be safer than a “stall” and
“spinning in.” So, I was very happy to see an “old flying friend” once again.
I was hoping that they would have the Norden bombsight on display in the hangar. Not seeing it, I asked the operator of the Gift Shop, and he located it for me. What a thrill to see it once again after many years.
This instrument was an amazing invention - so unique, innovative and accurate. During our bombardier training, the instructors said that the sight was so accurate that a bombardier could drop a bomb in a pickle barrel from an altitude of 25,000 feet! While this might be a stretch, but a good bombardier - with a good pilot, plane , auto-pilot and bombsight - under ideal flying conditions probably could drop a bomb within 100 feet of a bulls eye
I used this type of bombsight in the nose of a B-17 Flying Fortress on 50 combat missions, and it performed “as advertised”. It was so valuable, and such a secret, that we bombardiers carried 45 caliber pistols to protect it, when we carried it to and from the vault to the plane. If we were shot down we were instructed to fire our pistol in the eye-piece and destroy the sight, rather than let the Germans capture it intact.
Another feature of the bombsight was it’s reliability. In North Africa, the summer ground temperatures could be 100 degrees in the morning at take-off, and yet below zero, at noon, over Italy when we were on the bomb run. Old-timers may recall a cover of Life Magazine which showed a bombardier student with a black ring around one of his eyes. All of us bombardiers looked like this when we returned from our missions. The rubber padding around the eyepiece got so hot that they started to melt.
And so, reluctantly, we had to leave a very memorable place.
We left the Travis AFB Museum at 12:15 and headed back aboard our mini-bus. We turned right on to Burgan Blvd. We turned left on to Travis Blvd. to Air Base Parkway. Tony takes a left turn, and we pass Peabody Road across Walter Road. We pass the intersections with Clay Bank Road and Dover Avenue to Heath Avenue. Then, down Pennsylvania to Mimi’s for lunch. We arrived at 12:35.
After a nice lunch, we loaded back on to the bus at 2:10, and back at Quail Creek at exactly 2:30 - right on time!
RCL - 10/13/08.
The six passengers, Kelli and Tony, Pulled away from Quail Creek at 10:40. We are headed to Travis Air Force Base Museum, for our Wednesday “Outing”. I am looking forward to the day. I saw the Museum many years ago, when it first opened. I know that they have added planes since then.
It is a beautiful day - warm and no wind! Tony heads South on Dover. He turns left onto Airbase Parkway. We take this nice boulevard all the way on to the Air Base. Not much traffic going either way this time of day. I haven’t been out here in many years. The last time was at an Armed forces celebration - many years ago. They featured the Army’s parachute team, and the Thunderbirds stunt group.
We passed the David Grant Medical Center. The hospital has been enlarged since I last saw it. We arrived at the Main Gate - and were cleared to enter - at 0952. Now, There is plenty of local traffic on the Base - moving in all different directions.
What a coincidence! Tony parked in front of one of the planes stored outside that was very familiar to me. It was a Convair T-29, the same type that I flew at Mather Field in Sacramento during the Korean War (1951 - 1953.) If I checked my old flight log, I might have flown this very plane as we had a lot of the T-29’s at Mather. I flew B-25’s out of Mather, before transitioning to the Convair. This Billy Mitchell twin-engine medium bomber was the same type of plane that General Jimmy Doolittle and his group flew off the Hornet on their 1942 raid on Tokyo.
The narrative plate stated that it was one of the best transport plane produced after the workhorse C-47 - during WW II. It was an easy plane to fly, and with it’s wide landing gear it was very pilot forgiving, and safer. We flew B-47 pilots up and down the State - with legs up to Seattle at the northern end, and over to Phoenix, from Los Angeles, at the Southern end. Occasionally, we would fly a couple of hours out over the Pacific, and back, to give the students in the back over-water-navigation training. Two pilots manned the B-47. The plane didn’t carry a navigator, or bombardier, so the pilots were trained in all three skills. Generally, we cruised at about 160 knots and at 8,000 feet. We used oxygen above 10,000 feet in the daytime, and 8,000 feet at night. We filed a flight plan because we were controlled by the FAA. We would radio a position report to their control every hour we were in the air. The cockpits were very comfortable - roomy with soft chairs - instead of the usual cramped sitting area.
Normally, we would make a practice -ground controlled approach (GCA) landing after each mission. A few times it was because of necessity due to poor landing visibility.
The T-29 was very similar to the Convair 240, that the airlines were flying - except for the configuration in the back. In the T-29, tables and chairs were installed for the instructors and students, replacing the passenger seats on the airliner.
Kelly saw that I was interested in the plane, and offered to take my picture - with it in the background. Then, I walked around to get a close-up look at some fighter planes parked nearby.
Parked on the ramp nearby were the following fighter aircraft - F-104; F-105; F-86; F-84-F; F-101-B; and a F-102A. While I had heard of these planes, I had never seen them up close like this. Nearby was a C-45H which interested me. I flew a similar one on a cross-country trip from Maxwell Field, in Montgomery, Alabama to Willow Run, Michigan, and return. The Air Corps used this plane as a transport during the war, as well as to train some twin-engine cadets, The C-45 was changed a bit and used for other trainers such as the AT-7 for navigators, and the At-11 model, for bombardier training. While I didn’t fly this latter model, I did have over 100 hours flying in it as an “Observer”. This was when I received my bombardier training at Victorville - on the edge of the Mojave desert. We would drop 100 pound practice -sand bombs on nearby targets. The AT-11 bombardier training plane plane had a top speed of 215 mph, and a service ceiling of 20,000 feet. But we cruised at 150 during our bombing runs - usually flown at 8,000 feet. We had a few low-level drops.
It was at Victorville, that I ran into “Flying Sargeants”. Due to a shortage of pilots, the Air Corps decided to dispense with the 2nd Lt. commission for these civilian pilots, and bring them in with Staff Sergeant rankings. They were all experienced and good pilots. They later were promoted to the rank of “Flight Officer”.
Next to the At-11 was a huge Douglas C-124 Globe master - a four prop job that had a gross weight of 216,000 pounds when fully loaded at take-off.
Also, one of the Lockheed family of C-45‘s; AT-7‘s and AT-11‘s was the Lockheed UC-78. Many student pilots referred to the UC-78 as the “Bamboo Bomber”. I did fly this latter model in Basic-Flight Training, along with a similar model - the Cessna AT-17 - out of Minter Field in Bakersfield. Student pilots, who were likely to end up as multi-engine pilots were usually assigned to fly twin-engine trainers in their basic- flight training; where “fighter” pilots would receive their Basic training in a plane like the Vultee BT-13.
Just before entering the large hangar, there was a O2A, which I had never seen before. It had a front and rear propeller, and was used for observations. It certainly was distinctive looking.
Inside the hangar was a Stearman, which brought back many positive memories of learning to fly, during my Primary Flight Training. I also met my future wife there! (We will be married 64 years - and have five daughters - on December 23, 2008!). My training was a little easier because I was a Student Officer, rather than a Cadet.
The Strearman PT-13 was a tricky plane to land, but very good for stalls and acrobatics. The landings were difficult, because if you had the slightest amount of drift at touchdown, there was a good chance that you would ground loop. The main reasons for this were the narrow landing gear plus, the plane was a biplane, and this extra-wing weight made it top heavy. Without a nose wheel, we made dead-stick - three-point (usually) landings, This condition reduced the control of the aircraft close to the ground.
I was very fortunate to have an experienced civilian - Instructor pilot, who had many flying hours - barnstorming; flying the mail; instructing; crop dusting etc. While I never had to use his admonition, I never forgot his words of wisdom: When practicing “simulated engine failure” (power off), he told me to always maintain my safe flying speed (above a stall) - even if I had to fly through a brick wall. It would still be safer than a “stall” and
“spinning in.” So, I was very happy to see an “old flying friend” once again.
I was hoping that they would have the Norden bombsight on display in the hangar. Not seeing it, I asked the operator of the Gift Shop, and he located it for me. What a thrill to see it once again after many years.
This instrument was an amazing invention - so unique, innovative and accurate. During our bombardier training, the instructors said that the sight was so accurate that a bombardier could drop a bomb in a pickle barrel from an altitude of 25,000 feet! While this might be a stretch, but a good bombardier - with a good pilot, plane , auto-pilot and bombsight - under ideal flying conditions probably could drop a bomb within 100 feet of a bulls eye
I used this type of bombsight in the nose of a B-17 Flying Fortress on 50 combat missions, and it performed “as advertised”. It was so valuable, and such a secret, that we bombardiers carried 45 caliber pistols to protect it, when we carried it to and from the vault to the plane. If we were shot down we were instructed to fire our pistol in the eye-piece and destroy the sight, rather than let the Germans capture it intact.
Another feature of the bombsight was it’s reliability. In North Africa, the summer ground temperatures could be 100 degrees in the morning at take-off, and yet below zero, at noon, over Italy when we were on the bomb run. Old-timers may recall a cover of Life Magazine which showed a bombardier student with a black ring around one of his eyes. All of us bombardiers looked like this when we returned from our missions. The rubber padding around the eyepiece got so hot that they started to melt.
And so, reluctantly, we had to leave a very memorable place.
We left the Travis AFB Museum at 12:15 and headed back aboard our mini-bus. We turned right on to Burgan Blvd. We turned left on to Travis Blvd. to Air Base Parkway. Tony takes a left turn, and we pass Peabody Road across Walter Road. We pass the intersections with Clay Bank Road and Dover Avenue to Heath Avenue. Then, down Pennsylvania to Mimi’s for lunch. We arrived at 12:35.
After a nice lunch, we loaded back on to the bus at 2:10, and back at Quail Creek at exactly 2:30 - right on time!
RCL - 10/13/08.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Wednesday Outing; August 13, 2008.
Wednesday Outing - August 13, 2008.
We moved out from the ramp at 10:45. Tony drove over to Laurel Creek to pick up a motorized - scooter passenger. Ten minutes to load her aboard, and then, we are off again at 10:55. There are nine of us aboard - including Kelli - plus Tony, of course.
As we move over the I-80 overpass, I see moderate traffic crawling East and West along I-80. We head West on Hill born - through the Castle Rock area. I notice the fairly new Fairfield-Suisun School District building as we head down the hill, and right on to Waterman Boulevard. We are heading Southbound, and past Mary’s and Greg’s house (our daughter and son-in-law). There is a large fire-darkened area to the right -
Not too far from Rancho Solano. Very poor air quality - probably due to our frequent air inversions.
Tony turns right onto Manka’s Corner Road, and we head down Brown Valley Road past the Wooden Valley winery. Passing some large homes and wineries. Interesting seeing the large bunches of grapes hanging from the vines. It won’t be too long now before they will be picking them. I hope that they don’t have too much trouble finding labor. There is water in the creek running alongside our route.
I was surprised how pretty the drive at the base of Twin Sisters mountain is. I have lived in the area, (Vallejo) since 1962, and yet, have been in this area only once or twice before. Tony cautiously passes a lone bike rider - pedaling slow in our same direction. I particularly noticed him because he had large USA letters printed on the back of his tee shirt. My first thought was - I hope that he didn’t miss the Great Wall (Olympics), and was “lost”.
This is a vast area. I never thought there was so much good land left in California, There are expensive horse stables along the way. There are also grape vines planted everywhere - both young and old. I couldn’t identify the varieties. A low-cement wall running alongside. The farmers must have run out of rocks!
This area is very dry! No water in the creek down below us. Fortunately, there’s not much traffic through here. We pass through the Highways 181 and 128 intersection. I see a unique monumental-rock road toward a “Rock Slide Area.
Tony is not only a safe and good driver, he is also courteous and observes “the rules of the road”. He pulls over to the right side of the road and lets a few cars pass us, as they have slowly bunched up behind our slower-moving mini -bus.
We are now traveling down Highway 128, along Monticello Road toward the northern Napa area. I can see Lake Berryessa off to our left even though the water level is quite low from a couple years of below average storage of water. Monticello Dam is a beautiful engineering marvel - a tribute to our forefathers’ planning and ingenuity. It is hard to realize that such a large area - now submerged - used to be dry land!
Ahead are “deer and rock slide” signs, ending with a 45 mph speed limit sign. I notice that Kelli is munching on crackers in her co=pilot’s seat. I can understand and sympathize - it is not only the magic- lunch hour, but her stomach must be queasy, as is mine.
The vineyards on the surrounding hills are different shades of green. The vines must be of different ages. We are cruising the Putah Creek/ area. I have never seen this scenery before - certainly pleasing to the eye. A strange sight - twin palm trees over on the hill - keeping each other company with no other trees around. It makes me wonder who planted them? And how long ago and WHY?
We are passing through a hoi-poloi area - many horse stables in large boarding facilities. It is now 12:30, and we are down on a flat road once again. Tony turns on to Vaca Valley Road, and we head for Vacaville and lunch at Fenton’s Ice Cream Parlor. We approach Vacaville on Monte Vista as we parallel I-80.
After lunch, we load up and complete our round-trip journey. We leave Vacaville at 3:15. A lot more traffic on the freeway now than there was four hours ago. So, Tony took the frontage road along I-80. A good decision!
We pulled up at Quail Creek at 3:30, after having had another nice Wednesday sightseeing. Tony said that we had covered about 50 miles. RCL-9/29/08.
We moved out from the ramp at 10:45. Tony drove over to Laurel Creek to pick up a motorized - scooter passenger. Ten minutes to load her aboard, and then, we are off again at 10:55. There are nine of us aboard - including Kelli - plus Tony, of course.
As we move over the I-80 overpass, I see moderate traffic crawling East and West along I-80. We head West on Hill born - through the Castle Rock area. I notice the fairly new Fairfield-Suisun School District building as we head down the hill, and right on to Waterman Boulevard. We are heading Southbound, and past Mary’s and Greg’s house (our daughter and son-in-law). There is a large fire-darkened area to the right -
Not too far from Rancho Solano. Very poor air quality - probably due to our frequent air inversions.
Tony turns right onto Manka’s Corner Road, and we head down Brown Valley Road past the Wooden Valley winery. Passing some large homes and wineries. Interesting seeing the large bunches of grapes hanging from the vines. It won’t be too long now before they will be picking them. I hope that they don’t have too much trouble finding labor. There is water in the creek running alongside our route.
I was surprised how pretty the drive at the base of Twin Sisters mountain is. I have lived in the area, (Vallejo) since 1962, and yet, have been in this area only once or twice before. Tony cautiously passes a lone bike rider - pedaling slow in our same direction. I particularly noticed him because he had large USA letters printed on the back of his tee shirt. My first thought was - I hope that he didn’t miss the Great Wall (Olympics), and was “lost”.
This is a vast area. I never thought there was so much good land left in California, There are expensive horse stables along the way. There are also grape vines planted everywhere - both young and old. I couldn’t identify the varieties. A low-cement wall running alongside. The farmers must have run out of rocks!
This area is very dry! No water in the creek down below us. Fortunately, there’s not much traffic through here. We pass through the Highways 181 and 128 intersection. I see a unique monumental-rock road toward a “Rock Slide Area.
Tony is not only a safe and good driver, he is also courteous and observes “the rules of the road”. He pulls over to the right side of the road and lets a few cars pass us, as they have slowly bunched up behind our slower-moving mini -bus.
We are now traveling down Highway 128, along Monticello Road toward the northern Napa area. I can see Lake Berryessa off to our left even though the water level is quite low from a couple years of below average storage of water. Monticello Dam is a beautiful engineering marvel - a tribute to our forefathers’ planning and ingenuity. It is hard to realize that such a large area - now submerged - used to be dry land!
Ahead are “deer and rock slide” signs, ending with a 45 mph speed limit sign. I notice that Kelli is munching on crackers in her co=pilot’s seat. I can understand and sympathize - it is not only the magic- lunch hour, but her stomach must be queasy, as is mine.
The vineyards on the surrounding hills are different shades of green. The vines must be of different ages. We are cruising the Putah Creek/ area. I have never seen this scenery before - certainly pleasing to the eye. A strange sight - twin palm trees over on the hill - keeping each other company with no other trees around. It makes me wonder who planted them? And how long ago and WHY?
We are passing through a hoi-poloi area - many horse stables in large boarding facilities. It is now 12:30, and we are down on a flat road once again. Tony turns on to Vaca Valley Road, and we head for Vacaville and lunch at Fenton’s Ice Cream Parlor. We approach Vacaville on Monte Vista as we parallel I-80.
After lunch, we load up and complete our round-trip journey. We leave Vacaville at 3:15. A lot more traffic on the freeway now than there was four hours ago. So, Tony took the frontage road along I-80. A good decision!
We pulled up at Quail Creek at 3:30, after having had another nice Wednesday sightseeing. Tony said that we had covered about 50 miles. RCL-9/29/08.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Wednesday Sojourn
Wednesday Sojourn - June 18, 2008.
We push off from Quail Creek at 12:05 pm, headed for the Monticello Winery in the beautiful Napa Valley. Aboard are our esteemed driver, Tony, and his co-pilot, and our Hostess, Kelli. Also, there are six residents belted-in the rear of the coach - plus a motorized wheel chair, walkers and a large - wheeled -picnic ice chest.
We enter I-80 Westbound. I know that it is I-80 because of the bumpy ride - even though Tony has moved over two lanes to the left and selected the No. 2 lane - the smoothest. This freeway has been scheduled for resurfacing for as long as I can remember. Apparently, the Solano Transportation Authority and Cal Trans have agreed on a plan, and the repair work has been scheduled.
I notice a truck sitting in the emergency lane. I assume that he is having a mechanical problem - but again, he may be inspecting his load prior to entering the Truck Scales, in Cordelia, up ahead. The vibrations feel familiar, as I was riding on the same stretch yesterday - to and from Kaiser in Vallejo.
I see two white horses, keeping each other company, grazing in the noon- day sun. Next I notice a herd of black cattle descending down the path on a golden-brown hillside. I couldn’t help but wonder how they choose their leader. And, how does the leader make the decision to move on to more fertile grazing - and where?
Now, we are traveling through Jamison Canyon westbound on Highway 12. This road has a treacherous history of fatal auto accidents. They have started a widening project, with all the earth moving -equipment parked nearby. Surprised to see many new vineyards along the way. We pass the entrance to the Chardonnay golf course on our left. We make a right turn at the traffic signal and are now heading northbound on Highway 29 - between Vallejo and Napa. A Lafitte cork facility on the right. I probably noticed this because the Lafitte family is one of the French Huguenot families that were affiliated with my French ancestors back in 1685.
I notice a roadside sign that sys that employees of Genova Deli in Napa are providing clean-up for this stretch of Highway 29. If their cleanup matches the quality of their deli, it will be most satisfactory. I see many TV antennae dishes down in the flats below the freeway. Next, I notice some new housing along the highway, in the area of the Senior Housing - Atrium, that I had never seen before. This section of highway has deteriorated quite a bit since I last traveled it. The makers of this mini-bus could use both I-80, and highway 29, as proving grounds to test the road ability of their busses. A big improvement at the Trancas and Highway 29 intersection, for through traffic. No more sitting for long periods waiting for the traffic signal to cycle at this intersection.
Tony turns off Highway 29 on to Eastbound Oak Knoll. A short drive over to Big Ranch Road. This area brings back many pleasant memories of when we used to drive to the area and cut down our “living” Christmas trees. Each of our five daughters would pick out their favorite shaped-tree, and stand by it, until the family could vote on which one we should cut down. This was one of my favorite family outings, and I always looked forward to this event.
A pretty drive along Oak Knoll Avenue - healthy looking vineyards on both sides of the road. I can see Atlas Peak in the distance as we turn right on to Big Ranch Road. Very majestic standing there. It monopolizes the panorama as does Mt. Diablo to the south. A short drive and Tony makes a left turn into the Monticello Winery parking lot. We off-load about 12:55 pm.
We settled on a picnic table in a shady-grass covered area, and plunked down on two of the benches. It wasn’t long before a large (overweight) black male lab came lumbering up the walk, to check us out. He must have sensed (or smelled) the ingredients in the ice chest. He patiently laid there until we started eating. Then, he got up looking for his “serving”. When there was no more offerings, he left us, patrolling other parts of the property. While it was a warm afternoon, there was a pleasant little breeze blowing through the olive trees. It reminded me of the trade wind in Hawaii.
Kelli “packed” a very nice lunch - wrap sandwiches, potato salad, delicious fresh strawberries and seedless purple grapes, and brownie cupcakes for dessert.
After lunch, we turned our attention to wine tasting. The tasting fee was $15 per person! While this dates me, I can remember when wine tasting (and occasionally hors doevres) were free! So Kelli suggested that we all chip in and buy a bottle of wine and split the cost, and price, of the wine - which we did. This was a good idea. While we got to taste only a single wine, the $3.50 price was right. Kelli poured the Corley Family Chardonnay into our empty 8 ounce water bottles. After a short toast, we “tasted”. The small bottles had an attractive shape. Tony mentioned that they looked like an inverted wine glass - which they did. He said that we could cut out the bottoms of the bottles and have a wine glass. This was a good idea, but it would have delayed our sipping.
There was a building on the property, modeling President Jefferson’s home in Monticello, Virginia. Marie and I had visited his home, so I walked up to the tasting room in hopes that they had a gift shop with a post card of this replica. They did not, and I was disappointed.
“All aboard” at 3:15, and we are off on our return leg. Lots of truck traffic through Jamison Canyon, but Tony made good time. The travel time - 50 minutes - was the same each way! Very interesting. We arrived back at Quail Creek at 4:05pm. - tired but refreshed.
Ray L’Amoreaux
June 21, 2008.
We push off from Quail Creek at 12:05 pm, headed for the Monticello Winery in the beautiful Napa Valley. Aboard are our esteemed driver, Tony, and his co-pilot, and our Hostess, Kelli. Also, there are six residents belted-in the rear of the coach - plus a motorized wheel chair, walkers and a large - wheeled -picnic ice chest.
We enter I-80 Westbound. I know that it is I-80 because of the bumpy ride - even though Tony has moved over two lanes to the left and selected the No. 2 lane - the smoothest. This freeway has been scheduled for resurfacing for as long as I can remember. Apparently, the Solano Transportation Authority and Cal Trans have agreed on a plan, and the repair work has been scheduled.
I notice a truck sitting in the emergency lane. I assume that he is having a mechanical problem - but again, he may be inspecting his load prior to entering the Truck Scales, in Cordelia, up ahead. The vibrations feel familiar, as I was riding on the same stretch yesterday - to and from Kaiser in Vallejo.
I see two white horses, keeping each other company, grazing in the noon- day sun. Next I notice a herd of black cattle descending down the path on a golden-brown hillside. I couldn’t help but wonder how they choose their leader. And, how does the leader make the decision to move on to more fertile grazing - and where?
Now, we are traveling through Jamison Canyon westbound on Highway 12. This road has a treacherous history of fatal auto accidents. They have started a widening project, with all the earth moving -equipment parked nearby. Surprised to see many new vineyards along the way. We pass the entrance to the Chardonnay golf course on our left. We make a right turn at the traffic signal and are now heading northbound on Highway 29 - between Vallejo and Napa. A Lafitte cork facility on the right. I probably noticed this because the Lafitte family is one of the French Huguenot families that were affiliated with my French ancestors back in 1685.
I notice a roadside sign that sys that employees of Genova Deli in Napa are providing clean-up for this stretch of Highway 29. If their cleanup matches the quality of their deli, it will be most satisfactory. I see many TV antennae dishes down in the flats below the freeway. Next, I notice some new housing along the highway, in the area of the Senior Housing - Atrium, that I had never seen before. This section of highway has deteriorated quite a bit since I last traveled it. The makers of this mini-bus could use both I-80, and highway 29, as proving grounds to test the road ability of their busses. A big improvement at the Trancas and Highway 29 intersection, for through traffic. No more sitting for long periods waiting for the traffic signal to cycle at this intersection.
Tony turns off Highway 29 on to Eastbound Oak Knoll. A short drive over to Big Ranch Road. This area brings back many pleasant memories of when we used to drive to the area and cut down our “living” Christmas trees. Each of our five daughters would pick out their favorite shaped-tree, and stand by it, until the family could vote on which one we should cut down. This was one of my favorite family outings, and I always looked forward to this event.
A pretty drive along Oak Knoll Avenue - healthy looking vineyards on both sides of the road. I can see Atlas Peak in the distance as we turn right on to Big Ranch Road. Very majestic standing there. It monopolizes the panorama as does Mt. Diablo to the south. A short drive and Tony makes a left turn into the Monticello Winery parking lot. We off-load about 12:55 pm.
We settled on a picnic table in a shady-grass covered area, and plunked down on two of the benches. It wasn’t long before a large (overweight) black male lab came lumbering up the walk, to check us out. He must have sensed (or smelled) the ingredients in the ice chest. He patiently laid there until we started eating. Then, he got up looking for his “serving”. When there was no more offerings, he left us, patrolling other parts of the property. While it was a warm afternoon, there was a pleasant little breeze blowing through the olive trees. It reminded me of the trade wind in Hawaii.
Kelli “packed” a very nice lunch - wrap sandwiches, potato salad, delicious fresh strawberries and seedless purple grapes, and brownie cupcakes for dessert.
After lunch, we turned our attention to wine tasting. The tasting fee was $15 per person! While this dates me, I can remember when wine tasting (and occasionally hors doevres) were free! So Kelli suggested that we all chip in and buy a bottle of wine and split the cost, and price, of the wine - which we did. This was a good idea. While we got to taste only a single wine, the $3.50 price was right. Kelli poured the Corley Family Chardonnay into our empty 8 ounce water bottles. After a short toast, we “tasted”. The small bottles had an attractive shape. Tony mentioned that they looked like an inverted wine glass - which they did. He said that we could cut out the bottoms of the bottles and have a wine glass. This was a good idea, but it would have delayed our sipping.
There was a building on the property, modeling President Jefferson’s home in Monticello, Virginia. Marie and I had visited his home, so I walked up to the tasting room in hopes that they had a gift shop with a post card of this replica. They did not, and I was disappointed.
“All aboard” at 3:15, and we are off on our return leg. Lots of truck traffic through Jamison Canyon, but Tony made good time. The travel time - 50 minutes - was the same each way! Very interesting. We arrived back at Quail Creek at 4:05pm. - tired but refreshed.
Ray L’Amoreaux
June 21, 2008.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Scenic Drive
Wednesday Scenic Drive.
It is Wednesday, June 4, 2003. The time is about 1030 Pacific. Tony, hit’s the accelerator of our Quail Creek shuttle bus. Tony is our “Wagon master”, and Kelli is our “Hostess“, and riding “shotgun. Nine residents are off on our “Scenic Tour”.
We head out the gate and proceed to Air Base Parkway. A left turn and proceed down to Walter Road. We turn right and head for Highway 12. Left on 12 and drive by Suisun. This used to be a “killer” highway, similar to Highway 37. Thoughtless drivers would pass on blind curves and hills, causing many accidents most were head-on “fatals”. Widening the strip between Fairfield and Rio Vista was not feasible, so they decided to put a concrete barrier down the center of the road. Today is the first time that I have seen this improvement.
We pass a wind farm. The props are barely rotating as it is a pretty calm morning - but, I guess that any action is a gernerating plus. I can see a lone -large plane, off to our right. It appears to be flying so slow that it seems like it must be in a “stall”. I can only presume that they are training the pilots, by making “touch and go” landings.
The large fields on both sides are “golden”. I would like to think that it is wheat. But, it probably is just wild grass. My right window frames the majestic Mt. Diablo, about 20 miles to the south. Now, we are seeing quite a few cattle having their breakfast/brunch? This afternoon, they will be looking for shade, but I don’t see a tree around Another picturesque scene - a lone donkey standing guard in the center of a herd of sheep. What a picture this would make - but we must speed on. Then, another scene - that would make a good picture - a stand-alone barn in the middle of no place! I can’t help but wonder who owns all this land we are passing? If I were asked to make a guess, I would say the State of California.
Tony hangs a left from #12 on to highway 113, and we head north towards Dixon. I blinked my eyes and didn’t see Elmira. While I have heard of it, I don’t recall having seen it. This section is a bumpy ride! The tire, shocks and front-end alignment people will be happy! I kept thinking, I hope that there is no one aboard having trouble with hemorrhoids. The view on either side is an interesting contrast in color. On the left side, were irrigated-green fields. I assumed that they were tomatoes, because Dixon processes a lot of them. On the right side, the fields were golden - what a distinct contrast. I hope that I was looking at wheat or alfalfa. But, being a gentleman farmer, I wasn’t sure. It was probably un-irrigated grassland. (An aside). After I returned, it bothered me to realize that I couldn’t positively identify the crops in the two areas. So, I called the Dixon City Hall, in hopes that they could help me. The lady, who answered the phone, didn’t have the foggiest idea. So, I called the Dixon Tribune. I asked the lady my same question, and she didn‘t know either! She told me that “I don’t get out there very often!”. So, I left it at that - not realizing that Dixon was so provincial.)
We passed the Dixon May Fair grounds. I remember going there, a few years back, to their May Fair. We moved from Vallejo to Fairfield, recently. For many years, a year doesn’t go by, when the Solano County Fair Board and the City of Vallejo, don’t talk about moving the Solano County Fair up-county. Their justification is that the property is too valuable to be used as a fairgrounds for only two weeks out of the year. The only catch, is that the deed reads that if the acreage is no longer used for the County Fair, the title would pass from Vallejo back to the county of Solano.
I remember the Dixon area for all their sheep. But now, it seems that there are fewer sheep and more cattle. Into Vacaville along a scenic route. I didn’t realize that there were so many upscale places in the Vacaville area - a very enticing setting. I would be concerned about grass fires, but that is the pessimist in me. Back on I-80 heading for downtown Vacaville. Could see the 505 cut-off with the Kaiser and Genetech complexes anchoring the area.
We stopped at the Yen King restaurant in Vacaville - on the other corner from the Nugget restaurant facility. I had a nice orange- chicken lunch. We rode through very nice residential area, and then onto the frontage road paralleling I-80, and home. Nearing the gate, Tony braked as we came around a curve, - to slow down and let a mother quail and her chicks waddle across the street in orderly -single file.- a reminder of what suggested the name of our Quail Creek Assisted -Living facility.
RCL - 6/10/08.
It is Wednesday, June 4, 2003. The time is about 1030 Pacific. Tony, hit’s the accelerator of our Quail Creek shuttle bus. Tony is our “Wagon master”, and Kelli is our “Hostess“, and riding “shotgun. Nine residents are off on our “Scenic Tour”.
We head out the gate and proceed to Air Base Parkway. A left turn and proceed down to Walter Road. We turn right and head for Highway 12. Left on 12 and drive by Suisun. This used to be a “killer” highway, similar to Highway 37. Thoughtless drivers would pass on blind curves and hills, causing many accidents most were head-on “fatals”. Widening the strip between Fairfield and Rio Vista was not feasible, so they decided to put a concrete barrier down the center of the road. Today is the first time that I have seen this improvement.
We pass a wind farm. The props are barely rotating as it is a pretty calm morning - but, I guess that any action is a gernerating plus. I can see a lone -large plane, off to our right. It appears to be flying so slow that it seems like it must be in a “stall”. I can only presume that they are training the pilots, by making “touch and go” landings.
The large fields on both sides are “golden”. I would like to think that it is wheat. But, it probably is just wild grass. My right window frames the majestic Mt. Diablo, about 20 miles to the south. Now, we are seeing quite a few cattle having their breakfast/brunch? This afternoon, they will be looking for shade, but I don’t see a tree around Another picturesque scene - a lone donkey standing guard in the center of a herd of sheep. What a picture this would make - but we must speed on. Then, another scene - that would make a good picture - a stand-alone barn in the middle of no place! I can’t help but wonder who owns all this land we are passing? If I were asked to make a guess, I would say the State of California.
Tony hangs a left from #12 on to highway 113, and we head north towards Dixon. I blinked my eyes and didn’t see Elmira. While I have heard of it, I don’t recall having seen it. This section is a bumpy ride! The tire, shocks and front-end alignment people will be happy! I kept thinking, I hope that there is no one aboard having trouble with hemorrhoids. The view on either side is an interesting contrast in color. On the left side, were irrigated-green fields. I assumed that they were tomatoes, because Dixon processes a lot of them. On the right side, the fields were golden - what a distinct contrast. I hope that I was looking at wheat or alfalfa. But, being a gentleman farmer, I wasn’t sure. It was probably un-irrigated grassland. (An aside). After I returned, it bothered me to realize that I couldn’t positively identify the crops in the two areas. So, I called the Dixon City Hall, in hopes that they could help me. The lady, who answered the phone, didn’t have the foggiest idea. So, I called the Dixon Tribune. I asked the lady my same question, and she didn‘t know either! She told me that “I don’t get out there very often!”. So, I left it at that - not realizing that Dixon was so provincial.)
We passed the Dixon May Fair grounds. I remember going there, a few years back, to their May Fair. We moved from Vallejo to Fairfield, recently. For many years, a year doesn’t go by, when the Solano County Fair Board and the City of Vallejo, don’t talk about moving the Solano County Fair up-county. Their justification is that the property is too valuable to be used as a fairgrounds for only two weeks out of the year. The only catch, is that the deed reads that if the acreage is no longer used for the County Fair, the title would pass from Vallejo back to the county of Solano.
I remember the Dixon area for all their sheep. But now, it seems that there are fewer sheep and more cattle. Into Vacaville along a scenic route. I didn’t realize that there were so many upscale places in the Vacaville area - a very enticing setting. I would be concerned about grass fires, but that is the pessimist in me. Back on I-80 heading for downtown Vacaville. Could see the 505 cut-off with the Kaiser and Genetech complexes anchoring the area.
We stopped at the Yen King restaurant in Vacaville - on the other corner from the Nugget restaurant facility. I had a nice orange- chicken lunch. We rode through very nice residential area, and then onto the frontage road paralleling I-80, and home. Nearing the gate, Tony braked as we came around a curve, - to slow down and let a mother quail and her chicks waddle across the street in orderly -single file.- a reminder of what suggested the name of our Quail Creek Assisted -Living facility.
RCL - 6/10/08.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
A SIGH OF RELIEF!
A SIGH OF RELIEF!
I sweated out last week! All my Kaiser- medical support people were on vacation. Dr. Alexander Reynoso, my primary care physician, was gone, as were my cardiologist, Dr. David Williams and Farshid Laghaei, my Heart- Case Manager.
I will have to ask Dr. Reynoso about how he spent his vacation. Farshid told me that Dr. Williams, and he, were going to hike between the North and South rims of the Grand Canyon. While the hiking doesn’t seem like a vacation to me, the two of them are experienced runners and hikers. (This is probably why I have been diagnosed with congestive heart failure, with atrial fibrillation.) Farshid called me, after his return, He said their “walk” took them 13 hours - a very respectful time indeed.
It is good to have all of them back. I certainly don’t begrudge their recreating, but it is comforting to have my peace of mind once again.
I sweated out last week! All my Kaiser- medical support people were on vacation. Dr. Alexander Reynoso, my primary care physician, was gone, as were my cardiologist, Dr. David Williams and Farshid Laghaei, my Heart- Case Manager.
I will have to ask Dr. Reynoso about how he spent his vacation. Farshid told me that Dr. Williams, and he, were going to hike between the North and South rims of the Grand Canyon. While the hiking doesn’t seem like a vacation to me, the two of them are experienced runners and hikers. (This is probably why I have been diagnosed with congestive heart failure, with atrial fibrillation.) Farshid called me, after his return, He said their “walk” took them 13 hours - a very respectful time indeed.
It is good to have all of them back. I certainly don’t begrudge their recreating, but it is comforting to have my peace of mind once again.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Wednesday Activity
WEDNESDAY ACTIVITY - May 28, 2008.
Today’s activity, for the Quail Creek residents, was a trip to San Francisco. Only five of us signed up for the trip. The excuse some had for not going was “I’ve been there before”. Such a response gives you a clue as to why they require “Assisted Living”. I have been there before, too - beaucoup times - too many to count - and yet I never tire of the beautiful city and it’s watery surrounding. I commuted from Vallejo to San Francisco for 13 and a half years via Greyhound bus. Yet, I never tired of the beauty and excitement of The City. I even looked forward to weekend visits. I would have liked to have lived on the Embarcadero, from where I could have walked to work. When I first started commuting in September 1969, the in- bound trip took about 30 minutes. The return-evening commute took about 45 minutes. When I retired on February 1, 1983, those times had doubled.
Tony drove our 20 passenger mini-bus, and Kelli our Activities Director, also escorted us . The bus is very luxurious - built on a Ford 350 chassis. A half hour uneventful ride to the Ferry building in Vallejo. A short wait, after we got our tickets ($12.50 round-trip for our Senior excursion rate, before we boarded.
The Baylink ferry backed out of it’s berth at - 10:05 - five minutes behind schedule. It is a cloudy-breezy day - about 55 degrees. We are cruising slowly on a Southern heading. The boat is restricted to 5 knots, to reduce the wash against the fragile easterly shoreline - containing many expensive homes. We clear the channel at 10:20, and the Captain pours the coal to the two large marine engines, and we hydroplane along at about 30 knots. This boat is one of the original ferries, and is about 20 years old. The newer ferries cruise along at about 35 knots and cut off about 10 minutes from the one way time.
The eastern portion of Mare Island is quiet. It is hard to believe that as many as 60,000 people worked at the Yard at peak employment during WWII. They built one battleship - the USS California. They built many submarines - many of them nuclear powered. One doesn’t realize how large the Island is (4500 acres) until they cruise along side. The former Sperry flour mill appears off to our left. It has been closed for a few years now. The property has been sold. The plans are to convert it into “pricey” housing.
We clear the channel at 10:20, and head out into the Bay for San Francisco. I can see the two Carrquinez bridges off the port side. Lots of kids om the ride. Either school’s out or “field trips”. Nothing like a lot of cell phones, ringing at the same time, as they text message back and forth.
It is a smooth ride as we cruise along - sitting only a few feet above the water line. I can see Mt. Tamalpaias straightt ahead. It is off to the starboard at 10:45. A short time later, we are passing beneath the Richmond-San Rafael bridge. The Larkspur Ferry is passing to our right - returning from the san Francisco Ferry Building. It is 10:55 and we are abreast of Angel Island. This is a resort spot today. On the Island are the remains of the old Immigration facility that was used to process primarily Chinese men, who were entering the U.S. to work on building the Western railroads.
Now, I can see the long- Oakland-San Francisco Bay Bridge at eleven o’clock, and the beautiful burnt- orange Golden Gate suspension bridge at two oclock. The famous San Francisco skyline is straight ahead. We tie up at the Ferry building - on time - at 11:05. We are there for about 10 minutes to off-load passengers, and to pick up new passengers headed back to Vallejo. Then, a 10 minute ride up to Pier 41, where we got off.
We walked South to the next pier #39. We awalked the length of the pier to the end, and had a nice lunch at Dumpa-Gumpa’s. Afterwards, we cheched out the beaucoup seals - lying, sparring, sleeping and barking! This attraction drew the most visitors. Some of us needed an ice cream
“fix”, so we stopped at Dreyer’s and got a cone. I never dreamed that I would live long enough to see a single dip cone priced at $3.50! Let alone - pay that much for one. During the Depression, I bought many larger scoops for 5 cents. If I felt wealthy and hungry, I would buy a triple-dipper (three different flavors) for 10 cents! While licking my cone fast, (because it was melting), a strange economic reality popped into my head! A gallon of regular gas is $3.50, and an ice cream cone is $3.50, which to choose? It depends on many factors.
By the time we walked back to Pier 41, it was time to line up to board our 3:10 departure - ferry. I rode back in the same front seating area, to get a good view of the opposite side of the Bay on the return trip.
Near the end of our return ride, I can see the Refinery of the California and Hawaiian Sugar Company, nestled below the Eastern span of the Carquinez bridge, off to our right. I spent seven years at the Refinery before transferring to the C and H Corporate office in San Francisco, where I spent another 14 years.
We arrived back at Quail Creek around 5:15 - tired but fulfilled.
Today’s activity, for the Quail Creek residents, was a trip to San Francisco. Only five of us signed up for the trip. The excuse some had for not going was “I’ve been there before”. Such a response gives you a clue as to why they require “Assisted Living”. I have been there before, too - beaucoup times - too many to count - and yet I never tire of the beautiful city and it’s watery surrounding. I commuted from Vallejo to San Francisco for 13 and a half years via Greyhound bus. Yet, I never tired of the beauty and excitement of The City. I even looked forward to weekend visits. I would have liked to have lived on the Embarcadero, from where I could have walked to work. When I first started commuting in September 1969, the in- bound trip took about 30 minutes. The return-evening commute took about 45 minutes. When I retired on February 1, 1983, those times had doubled.
Tony drove our 20 passenger mini-bus, and Kelli our Activities Director, also escorted us . The bus is very luxurious - built on a Ford 350 chassis. A half hour uneventful ride to the Ferry building in Vallejo. A short wait, after we got our tickets ($12.50 round-trip for our Senior excursion rate, before we boarded.
The Baylink ferry backed out of it’s berth at - 10:05 - five minutes behind schedule. It is a cloudy-breezy day - about 55 degrees. We are cruising slowly on a Southern heading. The boat is restricted to 5 knots, to reduce the wash against the fragile easterly shoreline - containing many expensive homes. We clear the channel at 10:20, and the Captain pours the coal to the two large marine engines, and we hydroplane along at about 30 knots. This boat is one of the original ferries, and is about 20 years old. The newer ferries cruise along at about 35 knots and cut off about 10 minutes from the one way time.
The eastern portion of Mare Island is quiet. It is hard to believe that as many as 60,000 people worked at the Yard at peak employment during WWII. They built one battleship - the USS California. They built many submarines - many of them nuclear powered. One doesn’t realize how large the Island is (4500 acres) until they cruise along side. The former Sperry flour mill appears off to our left. It has been closed for a few years now. The property has been sold. The plans are to convert it into “pricey” housing.
We clear the channel at 10:20, and head out into the Bay for San Francisco. I can see the two Carrquinez bridges off the port side. Lots of kids om the ride. Either school’s out or “field trips”. Nothing like a lot of cell phones, ringing at the same time, as they text message back and forth.
It is a smooth ride as we cruise along - sitting only a few feet above the water line. I can see Mt. Tamalpaias straightt ahead. It is off to the starboard at 10:45. A short time later, we are passing beneath the Richmond-San Rafael bridge. The Larkspur Ferry is passing to our right - returning from the san Francisco Ferry Building. It is 10:55 and we are abreast of Angel Island. This is a resort spot today. On the Island are the remains of the old Immigration facility that was used to process primarily Chinese men, who were entering the U.S. to work on building the Western railroads.
Now, I can see the long- Oakland-San Francisco Bay Bridge at eleven o’clock, and the beautiful burnt- orange Golden Gate suspension bridge at two oclock. The famous San Francisco skyline is straight ahead. We tie up at the Ferry building - on time - at 11:05. We are there for about 10 minutes to off-load passengers, and to pick up new passengers headed back to Vallejo. Then, a 10 minute ride up to Pier 41, where we got off.
We walked South to the next pier #39. We awalked the length of the pier to the end, and had a nice lunch at Dumpa-Gumpa’s. Afterwards, we cheched out the beaucoup seals - lying, sparring, sleeping and barking! This attraction drew the most visitors. Some of us needed an ice cream
“fix”, so we stopped at Dreyer’s and got a cone. I never dreamed that I would live long enough to see a single dip cone priced at $3.50! Let alone - pay that much for one. During the Depression, I bought many larger scoops for 5 cents. If I felt wealthy and hungry, I would buy a triple-dipper (three different flavors) for 10 cents! While licking my cone fast, (because it was melting), a strange economic reality popped into my head! A gallon of regular gas is $3.50, and an ice cream cone is $3.50, which to choose? It depends on many factors.
By the time we walked back to Pier 41, it was time to line up to board our 3:10 departure - ferry. I rode back in the same front seating area, to get a good view of the opposite side of the Bay on the return trip.
Near the end of our return ride, I can see the Refinery of the California and Hawaiian Sugar Company, nestled below the Eastern span of the Carquinez bridge, off to our right. I spent seven years at the Refinery before transferring to the C and H Corporate office in San Francisco, where I spent another 14 years.
We arrived back at Quail Creek around 5:15 - tired but fulfilled.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Mothers' Day.
MOTHERS’ Day
Today is May 11, 2008 - Mothers’ Day. Happy Mothers’ Day, Mom! She died almost 16 years ago, on May 27, i992. She would have been 100 on September 6th. I think of her almost every day, and I still miss her very much. We were so close, it is a wonder that I ever married.
She was of Irish stock. You can say what you want about the Irish, but they are great people. Most have a good sense of humor, And all have that zest for life. The Irish can laugh at themselves and their misfortunes. They are a hardy breed. I try to emulate her. While I have done fairly well - I come up short.
The first thing that I would do after school is to go home and check on her - to make sure that she was home and O.K. Only then, did I feel that it was O.K. to go out and play.
My Mom and Dad were supportive of me even though they never attended to watch me play high school football. They were there for my graduation from bombardier school at Victorville, California on October 31, 1942.My Mother wrote once or twice a week during the seven months that I was overseas. She flew out from Michigan to attend all five of our daughters weddings. She was 90 when she came out for Beth’s and Jack’s wedding on December 4, 1982 (our fourth wedding).
After my brother Bob’s death, she was not able to live alone. Marie suggested that I bring her with me to California, from Michigan, to live. So, I did. She made this transition in 1985 when she was 93 years old. This gave me a chance to re-pay her. I saw her nearly every day - at first at the Camino Alto residence Club - an assisted living facility, and the at the Vallejo Convalescent Hospital until she died on May 27, 1992. I looked on this close companionship as pay back time.
Today is May 11, 2008 - Mothers’ Day. Happy Mothers’ Day, Mom! She died almost 16 years ago, on May 27, i992. She would have been 100 on September 6th. I think of her almost every day, and I still miss her very much. We were so close, it is a wonder that I ever married.
She was of Irish stock. You can say what you want about the Irish, but they are great people. Most have a good sense of humor, And all have that zest for life. The Irish can laugh at themselves and their misfortunes. They are a hardy breed. I try to emulate her. While I have done fairly well - I come up short.
The first thing that I would do after school is to go home and check on her - to make sure that she was home and O.K. Only then, did I feel that it was O.K. to go out and play.
My Mom and Dad were supportive of me even though they never attended to watch me play high school football. They were there for my graduation from bombardier school at Victorville, California on October 31, 1942.My Mother wrote once or twice a week during the seven months that I was overseas. She flew out from Michigan to attend all five of our daughters weddings. She was 90 when she came out for Beth’s and Jack’s wedding on December 4, 1982 (our fourth wedding).
After my brother Bob’s death, she was not able to live alone. Marie suggested that I bring her with me to California, from Michigan, to live. So, I did. She made this transition in 1985 when she was 93 years old. This gave me a chance to re-pay her. I saw her nearly every day - at first at the Camino Alto residence Club - an assisted living facility, and the at the Vallejo Convalescent Hospital until she died on May 27, 1992. I looked on this close companionship as pay back time.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Halleluiah!
Halleluiah!
It is Saturday morning, May 10, 2008. My spirit has been uplifted! It is a beautiful sunny morning in Fairfield, California. Marie and I are sitting at a table for two in the Quail Creek comfortable and cozy dining room. Four residents are playing a game of tennis-doubles outside the window. Glenn Miller and his great orchestra, of the thirties and forties, is playing on the P.A. system - his theme song (Moonlight Serenade); Pennsylvania 6-5000 and In the Mood. On the table, are cloth napkins and table cloth, and fresh flowers. I am waiting to be served my pancake, bacon, egg, orange juice and milk! What a way to go!
A great stress-load has been lifted from my shoulders. I am very thankful and feel great. While I am not relieved of my responsibility for Marie and myself, I can cope with that, with all the assistance the staff provides. I am in a good place spiritually. I have inner calm. No more multi-tasking. I am living in the moment, and enjoying every bit of the experience. I am nearing my ninth decade, and I am comfortable with the sunset of my life. I can still recall most of the good memories on the way to getting here.
After breakfast, I met a lady from the “Big House” across the street. It is an Independent Living facility. She told me that she moved here from Santa Maria. I asked her how she heard of the facility, She said that someone researched retirement facilities for her and concluded that Paradise Valley was the best and nicest facility in the U.S. And, here she is. While this is quite a statement, I have no reason to doubt it.
It is Saturday morning, May 10, 2008. My spirit has been uplifted! It is a beautiful sunny morning in Fairfield, California. Marie and I are sitting at a table for two in the Quail Creek comfortable and cozy dining room. Four residents are playing a game of tennis-doubles outside the window. Glenn Miller and his great orchestra, of the thirties and forties, is playing on the P.A. system - his theme song (Moonlight Serenade); Pennsylvania 6-5000 and In the Mood. On the table, are cloth napkins and table cloth, and fresh flowers. I am waiting to be served my pancake, bacon, egg, orange juice and milk! What a way to go!
A great stress-load has been lifted from my shoulders. I am very thankful and feel great. While I am not relieved of my responsibility for Marie and myself, I can cope with that, with all the assistance the staff provides. I am in a good place spiritually. I have inner calm. No more multi-tasking. I am living in the moment, and enjoying every bit of the experience. I am nearing my ninth decade, and I am comfortable with the sunset of my life. I can still recall most of the good memories on the way to getting here.
After breakfast, I met a lady from the “Big House” across the street. It is an Independent Living facility. She told me that she moved here from Santa Maria. I asked her how she heard of the facility, She said that someone researched retirement facilities for her and concluded that Paradise Valley was the best and nicest facility in the U.S. And, here she is. While this is quite a statement, I have no reason to doubt it.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
The Big Snow!
THE BIG SNOW!
Our long-time friend - Maggie Gibbens - called us today to remind us that today is the anniversary of the Big Blizzard of ‘47. I hadn’t forgotten about it - I knew that it occurred in May, but did forget the exact date, It happened during the night. When we woke up on Wednesday morning, May 7, 1947, the ground was covered with a heavy blanket of snow!
Maggie and Steve Gibbens, and Marie and I, were living in the student housing- complex in the Willow Run Village, between Wayne and Ypsilanti, in Southeast Michigan, These “temporary” structures were built to house the workers at the Willow-Run bomber plant. The plant was built to build B-24 heavy bombers - at a rate of one per hour - 24 per day! After World War II ended, the bomber plant was taken over by Kaiser-Frazer in a joint venture to build Kaiser and Frazer automobiles. Both Maggie and Marie worked in the office at the plant, to help support Steve and I, so that we could attend the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.
Steve, and I, rode the “ veterans school bus” from Willow Run to the campus, and back - a distance of about 13 miles each way. On this morning of May 7th, the snow was so deep that they cancelled the school bus. I don’t remember whether Pete was able to drive our 1941 Chevy convertible to work.
Before we were married, on December 23, 1944, Marie had never been out of California! She was born and raised in Tulare - a city of about 5,000 people - straddling Highway 99 - between Fresno and Bakersfield.
The next day, after the big blizzard, Marie gave me an ultimatum! “Ray, you have a decision to make - Michigan or me! Because I’m leaving! I’m going back to California” (What’s the old saying? “You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take California out of the girl!”). I was tempted to respond with, “Can I get back to you on this?” But, I knew the timing wasn’t too great! I chose California, and I am glad that I did.
When the school year ended, we put everything, that we owned, in the back seat of the Chevy, and it was “California here we come”. That was 61 years ago! Except for four and a half years, that we spent living in Hawaii, we have lived in California ever since!
Our long-time friend - Maggie Gibbens - called us today to remind us that today is the anniversary of the Big Blizzard of ‘47. I hadn’t forgotten about it - I knew that it occurred in May, but did forget the exact date, It happened during the night. When we woke up on Wednesday morning, May 7, 1947, the ground was covered with a heavy blanket of snow!
Maggie and Steve Gibbens, and Marie and I, were living in the student housing- complex in the Willow Run Village, between Wayne and Ypsilanti, in Southeast Michigan, These “temporary” structures were built to house the workers at the Willow-Run bomber plant. The plant was built to build B-24 heavy bombers - at a rate of one per hour - 24 per day! After World War II ended, the bomber plant was taken over by Kaiser-Frazer in a joint venture to build Kaiser and Frazer automobiles. Both Maggie and Marie worked in the office at the plant, to help support Steve and I, so that we could attend the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.
Steve, and I, rode the “ veterans school bus” from Willow Run to the campus, and back - a distance of about 13 miles each way. On this morning of May 7th, the snow was so deep that they cancelled the school bus. I don’t remember whether Pete was able to drive our 1941 Chevy convertible to work.
Before we were married, on December 23, 1944, Marie had never been out of California! She was born and raised in Tulare - a city of about 5,000 people - straddling Highway 99 - between Fresno and Bakersfield.
The next day, after the big blizzard, Marie gave me an ultimatum! “Ray, you have a decision to make - Michigan or me! Because I’m leaving! I’m going back to California” (What’s the old saying? “You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take California out of the girl!”). I was tempted to respond with, “Can I get back to you on this?” But, I knew the timing wasn’t too great! I chose California, and I am glad that I did.
When the school year ended, we put everything, that we owned, in the back seat of the Chevy, and it was “California here we come”. That was 61 years ago! Except for four and a half years, that we spent living in Hawaii, we have lived in California ever since!
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Moving Day
THE BIG MOVE!
We have moved !- after living at 528 Brooke Drive in Vallejo, California for nearly 22 years! Our move wasn’t prompted by an employment transfer, loss of home - by eviction or foreclosure - or an act of God. It was elective - mostly on my part. Marie didn’t want to leave. It was her home and she wanted to die there. For me, If I didn’t get some care-giver help, I felt that I would die there - in the not too distant future! This wasn’t my wish. Resistance to change is not new to Marie! Back in 1957, I was interviewed at U.S. Steel in Pittsburg, for an industrial engineering job in Hawaii. I was offered the job, over many other qualified engineers. I was really excited by the good news - until Marie shot it down. She said the same thing in 1957 that she said in 2008: “I don’t want to move. I want to stay here.” I pleaded with her like a Dutch uncle. I told her that if I didn’t accept the job I would always be wondering - “What if? She finally agreed to go but she was never happy with the move and couldn’t wait to return to the mainland. Sometimes, when you are raised in a small town (5,000 people) you become quite provincial and are comfortable in the rut!
While I did have some help in Vallejo - Meals on Wheels (for me - Marie didn’t want them); a yardman; a housekeeper; a respite provider and a Caregiver Support Group, it still left a big workload for me - shopping - preparing Marie’s evening meal - managing all of our meds - operating the dishwasher, washer and dryer - handling all of the correspondence, bill paying, maintenance, and it seemed never ending. It appears that I am asking for sympathy, but I am telling it as it was - the basis for my needing help and seeking relief. Our three daughters - Mary, Joan and Sue were - and are - most supportive and helpful. It wasn’t fair to ask them to continue to drive the 35 mile round trip from Fairfield to Vallejo, and return, on that pot-holed and treacherous- traffic- impacted I-80. Something had to give! Damn the torpedoes! So, here we are - at an assisted living facility in Fairfield - Quail Creek, part of the Paradise Valley complex. (It is owned by are retired military officers organization) near our family support group.
Our new home is Quail Creek, at Paradise Valley Estates -
2350 Estates Drive; Apts. 207 & 208;
Fairfield, CA 94533.
707-399-7908
I suggested that we make the break a couple of years ago, but Marie wasn’t interested. So, I checked out Merrill Gardens in Vallejo. Then, Mary, Joan and Sue and I visited Loyalton, an assisted living facility, at Rancho Solano in Fairfield. I was ready to sign the entrance papers - with an 11 o’clock appointment. Earlier, Mary suggested that we look at Quail Creek in Fairfield, which we did. Marie wasn’t interested plus she wasn’t feeling up to going. I was very impressed, and that is all she wrote. And, here we are - for better or worse. I hope that we will be able to stay until our savings is depleted.
The service here is tremendous - above and beyond the call of duty! (Can you sense that the facilities are owned by Retired Military officers?)
The meals are five star quality and delicious! The nurse manages, and gives us, all of our meds. Housekeeping is done once a week. There are many local activities, as well as transportation to other things in the local area. I now have upgraded the location of my computer - from the garage to my living room I now have access to the facility’s Wife internet system. I can’t believe the increased speed over my former dial -up system. Plus, it’s not a case of using either the phone or the internet. I couldn’t ask for more amenities. While the two apartment units are expensive, it is worth it to me.
The movers arrived at 528 Brooke Drive, in Vallejo, about 9:30 A.M. on Friday April 18, 2008. Mary, Joan and Sue had been there for an hour or two. They did a great job - packing boxes and wardrobes - and tagging items to be moved, with “Post-it” notes as to where to locate them in the new apartments.
The movers had loaded the van in a couple of hours, and we were all on our way to Fairfield. While Marie and I were having lunch, the movers and girls, set up our new home to perfection. When we walked in it was instantaneous home! Thank you very much Mary, Joan and Sue. You all were great and we appreciate all you’ve done for us.
We have moved !- after living at 528 Brooke Drive in Vallejo, California for nearly 22 years! Our move wasn’t prompted by an employment transfer, loss of home - by eviction or foreclosure - or an act of God. It was elective - mostly on my part. Marie didn’t want to leave. It was her home and she wanted to die there. For me, If I didn’t get some care-giver help, I felt that I would die there - in the not too distant future! This wasn’t my wish. Resistance to change is not new to Marie! Back in 1957, I was interviewed at U.S. Steel in Pittsburg, for an industrial engineering job in Hawaii. I was offered the job, over many other qualified engineers. I was really excited by the good news - until Marie shot it down. She said the same thing in 1957 that she said in 2008: “I don’t want to move. I want to stay here.” I pleaded with her like a Dutch uncle. I told her that if I didn’t accept the job I would always be wondering - “What if? She finally agreed to go but she was never happy with the move and couldn’t wait to return to the mainland. Sometimes, when you are raised in a small town (5,000 people) you become quite provincial and are comfortable in the rut!
While I did have some help in Vallejo - Meals on Wheels (for me - Marie didn’t want them); a yardman; a housekeeper; a respite provider and a Caregiver Support Group, it still left a big workload for me - shopping - preparing Marie’s evening meal - managing all of our meds - operating the dishwasher, washer and dryer - handling all of the correspondence, bill paying, maintenance, and it seemed never ending. It appears that I am asking for sympathy, but I am telling it as it was - the basis for my needing help and seeking relief. Our three daughters - Mary, Joan and Sue were - and are - most supportive and helpful. It wasn’t fair to ask them to continue to drive the 35 mile round trip from Fairfield to Vallejo, and return, on that pot-holed and treacherous- traffic- impacted I-80. Something had to give! Damn the torpedoes! So, here we are - at an assisted living facility in Fairfield - Quail Creek, part of the Paradise Valley complex. (It is owned by are retired military officers organization) near our family support group.
Our new home is Quail Creek, at Paradise Valley Estates -
2350 Estates Drive; Apts. 207 & 208;
Fairfield, CA 94533.
707-399-7908
I suggested that we make the break a couple of years ago, but Marie wasn’t interested. So, I checked out Merrill Gardens in Vallejo. Then, Mary, Joan and Sue and I visited Loyalton, an assisted living facility, at Rancho Solano in Fairfield. I was ready to sign the entrance papers - with an 11 o’clock appointment. Earlier, Mary suggested that we look at Quail Creek in Fairfield, which we did. Marie wasn’t interested plus she wasn’t feeling up to going. I was very impressed, and that is all she wrote. And, here we are - for better or worse. I hope that we will be able to stay until our savings is depleted.
The service here is tremendous - above and beyond the call of duty! (Can you sense that the facilities are owned by Retired Military officers?)
The meals are five star quality and delicious! The nurse manages, and gives us, all of our meds. Housekeeping is done once a week. There are many local activities, as well as transportation to other things in the local area. I now have upgraded the location of my computer - from the garage to my living room I now have access to the facility’s Wife internet system. I can’t believe the increased speed over my former dial -up system. Plus, it’s not a case of using either the phone or the internet. I couldn’t ask for more amenities. While the two apartment units are expensive, it is worth it to me.
The movers arrived at 528 Brooke Drive, in Vallejo, about 9:30 A.M. on Friday April 18, 2008. Mary, Joan and Sue had been there for an hour or two. They did a great job - packing boxes and wardrobes - and tagging items to be moved, with “Post-it” notes as to where to locate them in the new apartments.
The movers had loaded the van in a couple of hours, and we were all on our way to Fairfield. While Marie and I were having lunch, the movers and girls, set up our new home to perfection. When we walked in it was instantaneous home! Thank you very much Mary, Joan and Sue. You all were great and we appreciate all you’ve done for us.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
May Day
MAY DAY!
Today is May Day - May 1st! - Happy May Day!
I have a flashback to 1928. I was 9 years old, and in the fourth grade at Central school in Hillsdale, Michigan. Today was as exciting as Valentine’s Day!
We made May Baskets on our dining room table. Our Mother would buy the materials, pop the corn and make the fudge. She was also the teacher, and supervisor, of our making the baskets. We would cut the construction paper into shapes, which would be the baskets. Then, we would form the material into small baskets, and paste the corners. Then, cut strips from heavy paper, for the handles. Then, attach the handles to the baskets with small brass clasps. Then, we would cover the baskets, and handles, with bright-spring-colored crepe paper. The multi-colored -finished baskets were a sight to behold. Then, we would fill them with pop corn and fudge, and a few spring flowers on top. I can still picture the array of different colors sitting on the dining room table. It would have made a great picture, but we didn’t have colored film back then. I didn’t even have a camera.
We loaded the 20, or 25, baskets into cardboard mens'- suit boxes, and loaded them on the back seat of the car. My Dad then drove us around to deliver them to our friends’ homes. We would place a basket on the front porch - by the door - ring the doorbell - and run back to the car. (We didn’t put our names in the baskets.). When we returned home, we looked forward to finding some May Baskets waiting for us.
Happy May Day!
Today is May Day - May 1st! - Happy May Day!
I have a flashback to 1928. I was 9 years old, and in the fourth grade at Central school in Hillsdale, Michigan. Today was as exciting as Valentine’s Day!
We made May Baskets on our dining room table. Our Mother would buy the materials, pop the corn and make the fudge. She was also the teacher, and supervisor, of our making the baskets. We would cut the construction paper into shapes, which would be the baskets. Then, we would form the material into small baskets, and paste the corners. Then, cut strips from heavy paper, for the handles. Then, attach the handles to the baskets with small brass clasps. Then, we would cover the baskets, and handles, with bright-spring-colored crepe paper. The multi-colored -finished baskets were a sight to behold. Then, we would fill them with pop corn and fudge, and a few spring flowers on top. I can still picture the array of different colors sitting on the dining room table. It would have made a great picture, but we didn’t have colored film back then. I didn’t even have a camera.
We loaded the 20, or 25, baskets into cardboard mens'- suit boxes, and loaded them on the back seat of the car. My Dad then drove us around to deliver them to our friends’ homes. We would place a basket on the front porch - by the door - ring the doorbell - and run back to the car. (We didn’t put our names in the baskets.). When we returned home, we looked forward to finding some May Baskets waiting for us.
Happy May Day!
Monday, March 24, 2008
Cast Not a Stone
Cast Not A Stone.
Cast not the first stone, my friend,
When, someone goes astray;
When a brother slips and falls,
Lift him up, instead, and pray.
Pass not along the sordid news,
Of someone’s sin displayed;
Lift him up and help him stand,
Because for him you’ve prayed.
- Kay Hoffman.
Cast not the first stone, my friend,
When, someone goes astray;
When a brother slips and falls,
Lift him up, instead, and pray.
Pass not along the sordid news,
Of someone’s sin displayed;
Lift him up and help him stand,
Because for him you’ve prayed.
- Kay Hoffman.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
A Simple Prayer
A Simple Prayer
Oh Lord, what simple prayers we pray,
Giving You thanks and glory every day.
Our prayers like misty clouds ascend,
Seeking your wisdom at each days end.
May our prayers be worthy, in Your precious sight,
As we struggle daily, to do what is right.
May we never give in to deep despair,
As You hear, oh Lord, our simple prayer.
- Shirley Hile Powell.
Oh Lord, what simple prayers we pray,
Giving You thanks and glory every day.
Our prayers like misty clouds ascend,
Seeking your wisdom at each days end.
May our prayers be worthy, in Your precious sight,
As we struggle daily, to do what is right.
May we never give in to deep despair,
As You hear, oh Lord, our simple prayer.
- Shirley Hile Powell.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
My Choice
My Choice
“Have a good day,” we often hear
Sometimes in a cheery voice;
My answer is, “Thank you , I will,
You see, it’s my God-given choice.”
God gave us minds with which to think,
To analyze and choose….
His guidance and His wisdom, too,
Are there for us to use.
- Anna M. Matthews.
“Have a good day,” we often hear
Sometimes in a cheery voice;
My answer is, “Thank you , I will,
You see, it’s my God-given choice.”
God gave us minds with which to think,
To analyze and choose….
His guidance and His wisdom, too,
Are there for us to use.
- Anna M. Matthews.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Time Well Spent
Time Well Spent
It’s time well spent when you share
A cup of tea, a laugh or two
With someone who may be lonely
And whose skies are gray instead of blue.
It’s time well spent to offer help
To somebody who may be in need,
For a harvest can quickly multiply
Just by planting a tiny seed.
It’s time well spent to simply smile,
Adding cheer to someone’s life,
For you never know when you’ll need a smile
To uplift amid a bit of strife.
It’s time well spent to offer thanks
For blessings which come our way -
To be grateful for each sunrise
And sunset at end of day.
It’s time well spent to talk to God
Humbly in heartfelt prayer -
Praising Him for all He’s done And releasing every burden and care.
- Linda C. Grazulis
It’s time well spent when you share
A cup of tea, a laugh or two
With someone who may be lonely
And whose skies are gray instead of blue.
It’s time well spent to offer help
To somebody who may be in need,
For a harvest can quickly multiply
Just by planting a tiny seed.
It’s time well spent to simply smile,
Adding cheer to someone’s life,
For you never know when you’ll need a smile
To uplift amid a bit of strife.
It’s time well spent to offer thanks
For blessings which come our way -
To be grateful for each sunrise
And sunset at end of day.
It’s time well spent to talk to God
Humbly in heartfelt prayer -
Praising Him for all He’s done And releasing every burden and care.
- Linda C. Grazulis
Thursday, March 20, 2008
To Everything There is a Season
Note: The following excerpts are taken from “Blessings From Above” - A Salesian Inspirational Booklet, edited by Jennifer Grimaldi.
To everything on earth there is a season,
A tome for every purpose under the sun.
From the beginning of life’s journey to the finish,
We run the race until our days are done.
There is a time for weeping and for laughter, A time for mourning and a time
to dance.
Every favor, every blessing we’re receiving
Is a gift of God; it happens not by chance.
For our God, in never failing mercy, Watches over us from day to dawning day.
In His hands He holds life’s changing seasons
As time continues on without delay.
- Regina Wiencek
To everything on earth there is a season,
A tome for every purpose under the sun.
From the beginning of life’s journey to the finish,
We run the race until our days are done.
There is a time for weeping and for laughter, A time for mourning and a time
to dance.
Every favor, every blessing we’re receiving
Is a gift of God; it happens not by chance.
For our God, in never failing mercy, Watches over us from day to dawning day.
In His hands He holds life’s changing seasons
As time continues on without delay.
- Regina Wiencek
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Casablanca
CASABLANCA.
During my nearly “four score and ten” years on this earth, I have h
ad many unique experiences - as have most people who have lived so long. One of these episodes, that I am recalling, is when I saw the movie “Casablanca” while stationed IN Casablanca. I had completed my 50 missions as a bombardier on a B-17 Flying Fortress, and was waiting for my Orders sending me back to the States.
The date was Tuesday October 12, 1943. Casablanca, Morocco. Let me quote from my journal back then:
Columbus day today and what a very nice “Fall” day! I went over to the PX, and Air Corps supply this morning. I slept for a while this afternoon, and then went into town. I walked around sightseeing, and did some shopping at the Bazaar.
I ate supper in town, and then ran into Fred Olson (a 1st pilot from our 429th Bomb squadron.. Fred had completed his tour of duty, recently, too). I then went to the Red Cross Vox theater (outside), and saw the movie “Casablanca”. There is a beautiful full moon out tonight - shining through the palm fronds, and ref
lecting off the nearby alabaster looking buildings.
Last night, they kicked off the grand opening of the rehabbed Empress theatre in Vallejo. The theatre goes back almost 100 years. The city of Vallejo, Triad Development, and other investors, have spent nearly seven million dollars on this project. The operators of the theatre picked the classic movie “Casablanca” to dedicate the Empress.
This promotion really got my attention. I had a flashback to that beautiful night in Casablanca in 1943. I wanted to treat my family and friends to see this movie - still unaltered - in black and white.
So, I invited the following people, who
have been very supportive to Marie and I, for many years:
Elsie and Gene Doyle; Pat and Francis (Mac) MacDonald, Mary and Greg Torres; Joan and Manny Morais; and Sue and Tom Chilson.
The theatre was sold out (471). Many patrons dressed in outfits of the forties. I couldn’t help but wonder how my seeing Casablanca would affect me emotionally - after nearly 65 years of non-thought. (I may have seen it on TV once). When the movie first started, I felt a strong nostalgic emotion. I did vividly remember the “piano” scenes, and the last foggy- airport getaway scenes. I didn’t remember having any trouble understanding the German and French accent- dialogue the first time, as I did last night. I would like to think that the technical quality of the sound last night, wasn’t
equal to that of the Red Cross theatre back in 1943. But, unfortunately, I think the problem is more associated with my 89 year-old ears.
During my nearly “four score and ten” years on this earth, I have h
ad many unique experiences - as have most people who have lived so long. One of these episodes, that I am recalling, is when I saw the movie “Casablanca” while stationed IN Casablanca. I had completed my 50 missions as a bombardier on a B-17 Flying Fortress, and was waiting for my Orders sending me back to the States.The date was Tuesday October 12, 1943. Casablanca, Morocco. Let me quote from my journal back then:
Columbus day today and what a very nice “Fall” day! I went over to the PX, and Air Corps supply this morning. I slept for a while this afternoon, and then went into town. I walked around sightseeing, and did some shopping at the Bazaar.
I ate supper in town, and then ran into Fred Olson (a 1st pilot from our 429th Bomb squadron.. Fred had completed his tour of duty, recently, too). I then went to the Red Cross Vox theater (outside), and saw the movie “Casablanca”. There is a beautiful full moon out tonight - shining through the palm fronds, and ref
lecting off the nearby alabaster looking buildings.Last night, they kicked off the grand opening of the rehabbed Empress theatre in Vallejo. The theatre goes back almost 100 years. The city of Vallejo, Triad Development, and other investors, have spent nearly seven million dollars on this project. The operators of the theatre picked the classic movie “Casablanca” to dedicate the Empress.
This promotion really got my attention. I had a flashback to that beautiful night in Casablanca in 1943. I wanted to treat my family and friends to see this movie - still unaltered - in black and white.
So, I invited the following people, who
have been very supportive to Marie and I, for many years:Elsie and Gene Doyle; Pat and Francis (Mac) MacDonald, Mary and Greg Torres; Joan and Manny Morais; and Sue and Tom Chilson.
The theatre was sold out (471). Many patrons dressed in outfits of the forties. I couldn’t help but wonder how my seeing Casablanca would affect me emotionally - after nearly 65 years of non-thought. (I may have seen it on TV once). When the movie first started, I felt a strong nostalgic emotion. I did vividly remember the “piano” scenes, and the last foggy- airport getaway scenes. I didn’t remember having any trouble understanding the German and French accent- dialogue the first time, as I did last night. I would like to think that the technical quality of the sound last night, wasn’t
equal to that of the Red Cross theatre back in 1943. But, unfortunately, I think the problem is more associated with my 89 year-old ears.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Mini-Medical School
MINI- MEDICAL SCHOOL; University of California - Davis.
February 2, 2008 - March 8, 2008.
I would like to publicly thank - and commend - the University of California - Davis, and their Center for Healthy Aging, for presenting the Mini- Medical School program once again this year. This is the sixth time that they have made this great medical program available to the general public - 50 years and older. The descriptive title - “Medical Science and Aging: A Mini Medical School to Prepare for Life’s Second Half”. It is a great outreach of Community Service.
Dr. Michael McCloud, the Course Director, was the prime mover for the program. Without him, there would be no Mini school. He also moderated the six Saturdays of classes. Dr. McCloud is not only a practicing physician, but he is also an Associate Clinical Professor of Medicine at the University. He is a very good speaker. He was the first, and last speaker. Even though he is just a “Boomer”, He is very knowledgeable about the subject of aging. Dr. McCloud uses enough humor to make a technical subject very interesting. (For example, at our graduation on March 8 - the last day of the course - he said that we probably wouldn’t be able to practice medicine right away - except maybe in the state of Oregon.)
My daughter, Mary Torres, and I, attended the course together. This was our first exposure to the Mini-Medical School. We learned about the course at the Yolo County Health Summit last September in Woodland.
The medical program is presented on six Saturday mornings, to a registered capacity of 500 students. It is taught by some of the same instructors that teach at the University’s regular medical program - some were department heads. What an opportunity for Mary and I to learn about healthy-human aging, as we both are experiencing it. Best of all. The University didn’t charge us a fee for our education!
I have listed the course content, and the presenter below:
“The Anatomy of Aging”, - by Dr. Michael McCloud.
“The Pharmacology of Aging”, - by Dr. John Peters.
“Men’s Health After 50”,- by Dr. William Hoch.
“Women’s Health After 50”, - by Dr. Amparo Villablanca.
“Nutrition and Healthy Aging”, - by Jill West, R.D.
“Update on New Technologies in Joint replacement”, - by Dr. John Mechan.
“The Aging Eye”, by Dr. Mark Mannis, Chair U.C. Davis Department of Ophthalmology.
“The Aging Ear” - by Dr. Hilary Brodie, Chief Otologist (ENT).
“Latest Medical Research”, by Barry Klein, Ph.D.
“Romance, Sex and Love After 50”, by Ed Callahan. Ph.D.
“The Healthy Heart in Mid-Life and Beyond” - by Dr. Amparo Villablanca.
“Memory and Aging”, by Dr. McCloud.
I was so impressed, with my exposure to the above medical information, if I were 70 years younger, I would have asked, “Where do I sign up for the “Big” course? Today, with over 70 million “Boomers” in the pipeline, I would like to be trained as a much needed Geriatrician. While most medical schools are not providing these doctors, they are being short-sighted. As Henry J. Kaiser once said, “Find a need, and fill it”.
RCL
3/12/08.
.
February 2, 2008 - March 8, 2008.
I would like to publicly thank - and commend - the University of California - Davis, and their Center for Healthy Aging, for presenting the Mini- Medical School program once again this year. This is the sixth time that they have made this great medical program available to the general public - 50 years and older. The descriptive title - “Medical Science and Aging: A Mini Medical School to Prepare for Life’s Second Half”. It is a great outreach of Community Service.
Dr. Michael McCloud, the Course Director, was the prime mover for the program. Without him, there would be no Mini school. He also moderated the six Saturdays of classes. Dr. McCloud is not only a practicing physician, but he is also an Associate Clinical Professor of Medicine at the University. He is a very good speaker. He was the first, and last speaker. Even though he is just a “Boomer”, He is very knowledgeable about the subject of aging. Dr. McCloud uses enough humor to make a technical subject very interesting. (For example, at our graduation on March 8 - the last day of the course - he said that we probably wouldn’t be able to practice medicine right away - except maybe in the state of Oregon.)
My daughter, Mary Torres, and I, attended the course together. This was our first exposure to the Mini-Medical School. We learned about the course at the Yolo County Health Summit last September in Woodland.
The medical program is presented on six Saturday mornings, to a registered capacity of 500 students. It is taught by some of the same instructors that teach at the University’s regular medical program - some were department heads. What an opportunity for Mary and I to learn about healthy-human aging, as we both are experiencing it. Best of all. The University didn’t charge us a fee for our education!
I have listed the course content, and the presenter below:
“The Anatomy of Aging”, - by Dr. Michael McCloud.
“The Pharmacology of Aging”, - by Dr. John Peters.
“Men’s Health After 50”,- by Dr. William Hoch.
“Women’s Health After 50”, - by Dr. Amparo Villablanca.
“Nutrition and Healthy Aging”, - by Jill West, R.D.
“Update on New Technologies in Joint replacement”, - by Dr. John Mechan.
“The Aging Eye”, by Dr. Mark Mannis, Chair U.C. Davis Department of Ophthalmology.
“The Aging Ear” - by Dr. Hilary Brodie, Chief Otologist (ENT).
“Latest Medical Research”, by Barry Klein, Ph.D.
“Romance, Sex and Love After 50”, by Ed Callahan. Ph.D.
“The Healthy Heart in Mid-Life and Beyond” - by Dr. Amparo Villablanca.
“Memory and Aging”, by Dr. McCloud.
I was so impressed, with my exposure to the above medical information, if I were 70 years younger, I would have asked, “Where do I sign up for the “Big” course? Today, with over 70 million “Boomers” in the pipeline, I would like to be trained as a much needed Geriatrician. While most medical schools are not providing these doctors, they are being short-sighted. As Henry J. Kaiser once said, “Find a need, and fill it”.
RCL
3/12/08.
.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Ed Sarna's funeral card - March 8, 2008.
He has set me free!
Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free,
I’m following the path God laid for me;
I took his hand when I heard Him call,
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to work, or play;
Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I found that peace at the dawn of day.
If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy;
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,
Ah yes, these things, I too will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow,
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow;
My life’s been full, I savored much,
Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief,
Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief;
Lift up your heart, and share it with me,
God wanted me now, he has set me free.
(Author unknown)
Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free,
I’m following the path God laid for me;
I took his hand when I heard Him call,
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to work, or play;
Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I found that peace at the dawn of day.
If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy;
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,
Ah yes, these things, I too will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow,
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow;
My life’s been full, I savored much,
Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief,
Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief;
Lift up your heart, and share it with me,
God wanted me now, he has set me free.
(Author unknown)
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Mini-Medical School
Vallejo, CA.
March 9, 2008.
Michael McCloud; M.D.
Director, UC - Davis Mini Medical School.
Dear Dr. McCloud:
I would like to thank you, very much, and all of the Lecturers, and Volunteers, for the opportunity to attend such a marvelous course! My daughter Mary, and I, attended the Yolo County Aging Summit last fall in Woodland, where we learned about your program. We applied right away and fortunately we were accepted. Your recent program was not only very informative, but was very interesting as well.
I am 89 years old, and still very interested in the aging process. (I have a “vested” interest!) I was the power of attorney for my Mother, during the last seven years of her life. She died in May, 1992 - just three months shy of becoming a centenarian! I tried to expose myself to all of the information on aging that I could find, to help me in that role. At that time, Professor Paola Timiras - University of California - Berkeley, was teaching a course on “Successful Aging”. She was very gracious in letting me sit in and “audit” her classes. I was exposed to many high-powered lecturers - including Prof. Timiras, and many of her former students! I learned a lot about “Successful Aging”. Now, the information is helping me to age gracefully. Yet, the field of healthy aging is changing so fast, (just in time for the “Boomers”), it is difficult staying abreast. This course is the answer.
So, Dr. McCloud, thanks again for all of your interest, time and effort to put on such a worthwhile program. You have really made a big difference in an aging world.
Good luck in your career, and Best Wishes.
Ray L’Amoreaux
P.S. My daughter Mary, and I, posed with you for a picture, after class, on Saturday.
March 9, 2008.
Michael McCloud; M.D.
Director, UC - Davis Mini Medical School.
Dear Dr. McCloud:
I would like to thank you, very much, and all of the Lecturers, and Volunteers, for the opportunity to attend such a marvelous course! My daughter Mary, and I, attended the Yolo County Aging Summit last fall in Woodland, where we learned about your program. We applied right away and fortunately we were accepted. Your recent program was not only very informative, but was very interesting as well.
I am 89 years old, and still very interested in the aging process. (I have a “vested” interest!) I was the power of attorney for my Mother, during the last seven years of her life. She died in May, 1992 - just three months shy of becoming a centenarian! I tried to expose myself to all of the information on aging that I could find, to help me in that role. At that time, Professor Paola Timiras - University of California - Berkeley, was teaching a course on “Successful Aging”. She was very gracious in letting me sit in and “audit” her classes. I was exposed to many high-powered lecturers - including Prof. Timiras, and many of her former students! I learned a lot about “Successful Aging”. Now, the information is helping me to age gracefully. Yet, the field of healthy aging is changing so fast, (just in time for the “Boomers”), it is difficult staying abreast. This course is the answer.
So, Dr. McCloud, thanks again for all of your interest, time and effort to put on such a worthwhile program. You have really made a big difference in an aging world.
Good luck in your career, and Best Wishes.
Ray L’Amoreaux
P.S. My daughter Mary, and I, posed with you for a picture, after class, on Saturday.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Letter to Editor - Times Herald
Letter To The Editor: Vallejo Times Herald.
On Tuesday night, February 12, 2008, I watched Channel 28 because I was interested in the City’s proposed Fiscal Emergency Plan. During the three hours of talking, J.D. Miller addressed the Council (once again!). This was not his first appearance at Council meetings. Through the years, he has basically delivered the same message of financial gloom and doom - “You are spending more money than you are receiving”. And, he is right. He blamed this perpetual anomaly on the city’s “Structural imbalance” in the wages of city employees.
This was not the first time that J.D. has delivered his message. He has addressed the major labor-cost over-runs many times previously - to many different councils. In watching these episodes, I got the impression that the council members either were not interested, or didn’t get the concept.
But, J.D. has been, and is right, on his predictions of labor cost over-runs and budget deficits. I say this because we both served on the two city’s Citizens’ Budget Committees - one in 1993 and another in 1999. Many other intelligent, and knowledgeable citizens also volunteered many hours of their time, to assist the city during the never-ending budget crises.
J.D. presented our labor -break-even charts to many councils. These graphs projected that Vallejo’s labor- cost line would cross the anticipated revenues line around the year 2000 - seven years in the future, at that time! Also, the chart predicted that the labor costs would continue to escalate through future years, widening the negative spread between costs and revenues. So, today, 15 years later, our extrapolations are still true!
So, the next time that J.D. Miller appears before the council on financial issues - listen up. You will hopefully, learn something! J.D. would make a good council member by providing financial leadership.
Ray L’Amoreaux,
528 Brooke Drive,
Vallejo. 642-5389.
February 16, 2008.
On Tuesday night, February 12, 2008, I watched Channel 28 because I was interested in the City’s proposed Fiscal Emergency Plan. During the three hours of talking, J.D. Miller addressed the Council (once again!). This was not his first appearance at Council meetings. Through the years, he has basically delivered the same message of financial gloom and doom - “You are spending more money than you are receiving”. And, he is right. He blamed this perpetual anomaly on the city’s “Structural imbalance” in the wages of city employees.
This was not the first time that J.D. has delivered his message. He has addressed the major labor-cost over-runs many times previously - to many different councils. In watching these episodes, I got the impression that the council members either were not interested, or didn’t get the concept.
But, J.D. has been, and is right, on his predictions of labor cost over-runs and budget deficits. I say this because we both served on the two city’s Citizens’ Budget Committees - one in 1993 and another in 1999. Many other intelligent, and knowledgeable citizens also volunteered many hours of their time, to assist the city during the never-ending budget crises.
J.D. presented our labor -break-even charts to many councils. These graphs projected that Vallejo’s labor- cost line would cross the anticipated revenues line around the year 2000 - seven years in the future, at that time! Also, the chart predicted that the labor costs would continue to escalate through future years, widening the negative spread between costs and revenues. So, today, 15 years later, our extrapolations are still true!
So, the next time that J.D. Miller appears before the council on financial issues - listen up. You will hopefully, learn something! J.D. would make a good council member by providing financial leadership.
Ray L’Amoreaux,
528 Brooke Drive,
Vallejo. 642-5389.
February 16, 2008.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Collectibles
COLLECTIBLES.
I was reading an interesting article in today’s Sunday- Times Herald (2/17/08). It told about a man auctioning off his collection of 301 old pennies, in Long beach, for $10.7 million! Included in his collection, was a large (about the size of a quarter) cent that sold for $632, 500!
When I looked at the picture of the penny, it brought back a memory of when I had one of those large pennies. I don’t think it was coined in 1794, but it was still old - probably worth only $10,000 today. I can’t remember where I got it, or where and why I spent it - probably for candy. I might have gotten it while collecting on my paper route, during the Depression. Or, my grandpa Flood may have given to me.
Then, I started thinking about my other treasures - my agate “shooters”; my 1930’s baseball cards - some autographed; and my large collection of 78’s - bakelite records of the Big Bands in the ‘30’s, and their vocalists. Oh well, back to reality.
I was reading an interesting article in today’s Sunday- Times Herald (2/17/08). It told about a man auctioning off his collection of 301 old pennies, in Long beach, for $10.7 million! Included in his collection, was a large (about the size of a quarter) cent that sold for $632, 500!
When I looked at the picture of the penny, it brought back a memory of when I had one of those large pennies. I don’t think it was coined in 1794, but it was still old - probably worth only $10,000 today. I can’t remember where I got it, or where and why I spent it - probably for candy. I might have gotten it while collecting on my paper route, during the Depression. Or, my grandpa Flood may have given to me.
Then, I started thinking about my other treasures - my agate “shooters”; my 1930’s baseball cards - some autographed; and my large collection of 78’s - bakelite records of the Big Bands in the ‘30’s, and their vocalists. Oh well, back to reality.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
The Dash
The Dash - by Linda Ellis.
The Dash - by Linda Ellis.
I read of a man who stood to speak - at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone - from the beginning------ to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth, and spoke of the following date with tears.
But, he said, what mattered most of all, was the dash between those years
For that dash represents all of the time that she spent alive on earth -
And now, only those who loved her, know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own - the cars - the house - the cash,
What matters, is how we live and love, and spend our dash!
So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you would like to change?
For you never know how much time is left, that can still be re-arranged.
If we could just slow down enough, to consider what’s true and real,
And always try to understand the way other people feel.
And, be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more-
And love the people in our lives, like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile, Remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read - with your life’s actions to re-hash -
Would you be proud of the things they say, about how you spent your dash?
I read of a man who stood to speak - at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone - from the beginning to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth, and spoke of the following date with tears.
But, he said, what matters most of all was the dash between those years
For that dash represents all the time she spent alive on earth.
And now, only those who loved her know what this little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own - the cars - the house - the cash,
What matters, is how we live and love, and spend our dash!
So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you would like to change?
For you never know how much time is left, that can still be
re-arranged.
If we could just slow down enough, to consider what’s true and real,
And always try to understand the way other people feel.
And, be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more - like we never loved before. And, love the people in our lives.
If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile, remembering that this special dash might last only a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read - with your life’s action to re-hash - would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash? RCL - 2/16/08.
The Dash - by Linda Ellis.
I read of a man who stood to speak - at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone - from the beginning------ to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth, and spoke of the following date with tears.
But, he said, what mattered most of all, was the dash between those years
For that dash represents all of the time that she spent alive on earth -
And now, only those who loved her, know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own - the cars - the house - the cash,
What matters, is how we live and love, and spend our dash!
So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you would like to change?
For you never know how much time is left, that can still be re-arranged.
If we could just slow down enough, to consider what’s true and real,
And always try to understand the way other people feel.
And, be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more-
And love the people in our lives, like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile, Remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read - with your life’s actions to re-hash -
Would you be proud of the things they say, about how you spent your dash?
I read of a man who stood to speak - at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone - from the beginning to the end.
He noted that first came the date of her birth, and spoke of the following date with tears.
But, he said, what matters most of all was the dash between those years
For that dash represents all the time she spent alive on earth.
And now, only those who loved her know what this little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own - the cars - the house - the cash,
What matters, is how we live and love, and spend our dash!
So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you would like to change?
For you never know how much time is left, that can still be
re-arranged.
If we could just slow down enough, to consider what’s true and real,
And always try to understand the way other people feel.
And, be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more - like we never loved before. And, love the people in our lives.
If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile, remembering that this special dash might last only a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read - with your life’s action to re-hash - would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash? RCL - 2/16/08.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Which Would I Choose?
TRAVELS
Joan was telling me an interesting thing that happened to Melissa’s boy friend Ryan. They both are living in San Diego. Ryan is working and Melissa is also working - towards her Masters’ Degree! A neighbor of Ryan’s gave him two round-trip tickets on Delta to any destination in the world! (I told Joan to tell Ryan to hurry before delta goes “Belly-up”!). What a gift - what a neighbor! Who said that there is no Santa Claus?
Joan’s tale got me to thinking, and reminiscing over the extensive traveling that Marie and I have done before and after our 25 years of retirement. We have seen so many beautiful and interesting places. We have been very fortunate. Then, I thought - what if this gratuity had happened to me? Where would I choose to go? It’s strange, but I decided that I would rather re-visit a place that I had been, rather than see some place new. I decide to list the countries that we have visited in order of my pleasant memories of them. So, here goes:
1- Switzerland.
2-France (naturally).
3-Italy.
4-Ireland (naturally).
5-England.
6- Scotland.
7-Germany.
8-Canada.
9-Austria.
10-Morocco.
11-Tunisia
Then, I reflected on cities which I enjoyed visiting. I listed the following in order of preference to re-visit.
1- Paris.
2-Washington, D.C.
3-Rome.
4- London.
5-New York.
6-Honolulu.
7-San Francisco.
8-Dublin.
9-Venice.
10- Lucerne.
11- Cairo.
12- Tunis.
13- Seattle.
14- Vienna.
15- Key West.
16- Vancouver.
17- Montreal.
18- Boston.
19- Philadelphia.
20- New Orleans.
21- Salt Lake City
22- Denver.
23-AnnArbor.
24. Colorado Springs.
25. Chicago.
While I realize that my rankings are pretty subjective, and arbitrary, they are starting points for discussion! One wouldn’t go wrong in visiting any of these places! Your experience would be food for the mind, and for the soul!
Joan was telling me an interesting thing that happened to Melissa’s boy friend Ryan. They both are living in San Diego. Ryan is working and Melissa is also working - towards her Masters’ Degree! A neighbor of Ryan’s gave him two round-trip tickets on Delta to any destination in the world! (I told Joan to tell Ryan to hurry before delta goes “Belly-up”!). What a gift - what a neighbor! Who said that there is no Santa Claus?
Joan’s tale got me to thinking, and reminiscing over the extensive traveling that Marie and I have done before and after our 25 years of retirement. We have seen so many beautiful and interesting places. We have been very fortunate. Then, I thought - what if this gratuity had happened to me? Where would I choose to go? It’s strange, but I decided that I would rather re-visit a place that I had been, rather than see some place new. I decide to list the countries that we have visited in order of my pleasant memories of them. So, here goes:
1- Switzerland.
2-France (naturally).
3-Italy.
4-Ireland (naturally).
5-England.
6- Scotland.
7-Germany.
8-Canada.
9-Austria.
10-Morocco.
11-Tunisia
Then, I reflected on cities which I enjoyed visiting. I listed the following in order of preference to re-visit.
1- Paris.
2-Washington, D.C.
3-Rome.
4- London.
5-New York.
6-Honolulu.
7-San Francisco.
8-Dublin.
9-Venice.
10- Lucerne.
11- Cairo.
12- Tunis.
13- Seattle.
14- Vienna.
15- Key West.
16- Vancouver.
17- Montreal.
18- Boston.
19- Philadelphia.
20- New Orleans.
21- Salt Lake City
22- Denver.
23-AnnArbor.
24. Colorado Springs.
25. Chicago.
While I realize that my rankings are pretty subjective, and arbitrary, they are starting points for discussion! One wouldn’t go wrong in visiting any of these places! Your experience would be food for the mind, and for the soul!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Happy Birthday Jeanne
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JEANNE.
My sister, Jeanne, was born on this date - February 13, 1920 - midway between Lincoln’s birth-date and Valentine’s Day. She was born on Friday the 13th at our Mother’s parents’ (Elizabeth and Daniel Flood) home at 63 west Carleton Avenue, Hillsdale, Michigan. Jeanne was born only 20 months after I was.
Jeanne had a tough time growing up with three brothers - one older and two younger. She had the Irish red hair, and a “fiery” temper. You didn’t want to take her on one-on-one. So, my brother Bob, and I, would gang up on her. (pretty lousy brothers!) Jeanne would fight back by kicking. She had one powerful leg. We got pretty adept at defending ourselves. We would grab her outstretched leg and flip her over backwards.
As a teen-ager in Berea, (Ohio), she spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom. (We had only one.) Part of it was to get our goat - I am sure. So, we used to go into the bathroom and stay until she wanted to come in. Then, we would stay a little while longer. This was a major mistake, because she kicked in the lower panels of the door! Of course, my Mother and Dad were upset, as we were the first renters from Doc Schneider, in the new house that he built. I never brought up the subject afterwards, but I am wondering how they made restitution to Doc. My Mother was always very sensitive, and embarrassed, over owing anyone anything.
Another trick of Jeanne’s: Her chore was to wipe the supper dishes that our Mother washed. Invariably she had “the call of nature” at that particular time, and took off for the bathroom. She would wait long enough for someone else to dry her dishes. After my Mother would finish washing the dishes - no Jeanne - so she would start drying the dishes. I couldn’t watch her do this, in good conscience, and usually stepped up and took over wiping the dishes. When I was through, Jeanne would make her grand entrance.
When we lived in Hillsdale (Michigan) during the 20’s and 30’s, I remember an occasion when Jeanne wasn’t feeling well and our Mother gave her a dose of castor oil. (If you have ever tasted that horrible stuff, you can understand why we didn’t complain much.) Jeanne dashed over to the kitchen sink and spit it all out! There was a slight problem. Mother was soaking some spinach in the sink. Mother rinsed it off and served it for supper that night. I took one bite of it and had the second-hand taste of castor oil! I didn’t eat spinach for many years after that. Now, it is one of my favorite vegetables!
Jeanne and I became very close after I left home for the Air Force in March, 1941, even though she "lost my great record collection while I was gone. It included Bluebird, Decca, RCA Victor, Columbia and other bakelite 78's, during the five years leading up to the start of World war II. As I gathered, Jeanne would take my records to parties, but she never got back home with them! They were either broken, stolen or left behind. In spite of this, we were still "friends".
" She and her husband, Bob Gibbens visited us many times in Vallejo - especially, after our Mother moved here in 1985. We in turn visited them many times both in Michigan and in Florida.
Jeanne died in the hospital, in Stuart, Florida, after surgery for an aorta artery aneurism, on September 24, 1998 - at the age of 78. I still miss her, and her sense of humor, very much.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JEANNE!
My sister, Jeanne, was born on this date - February 13, 1920 - midway between Lincoln’s birth-date and Valentine’s Day. She was born on Friday the 13th at our Mother’s parents’ (Elizabeth and Daniel Flood) home at 63 west Carleton Avenue, Hillsdale, Michigan. Jeanne was born only 20 months after I was.
Jeanne had a tough time growing up with three brothers - one older and two younger. She had the Irish red hair, and a “fiery” temper. You didn’t want to take her on one-on-one. So, my brother Bob, and I, would gang up on her. (pretty lousy brothers!) Jeanne would fight back by kicking. She had one powerful leg. We got pretty adept at defending ourselves. We would grab her outstretched leg and flip her over backwards.
As a teen-ager in Berea, (Ohio), she spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom. (We had only one.) Part of it was to get our goat - I am sure. So, we used to go into the bathroom and stay until she wanted to come in. Then, we would stay a little while longer. This was a major mistake, because she kicked in the lower panels of the door! Of course, my Mother and Dad were upset, as we were the first renters from Doc Schneider, in the new house that he built. I never brought up the subject afterwards, but I am wondering how they made restitution to Doc. My Mother was always very sensitive, and embarrassed, over owing anyone anything.
Another trick of Jeanne’s: Her chore was to wipe the supper dishes that our Mother washed. Invariably she had “the call of nature” at that particular time, and took off for the bathroom. She would wait long enough for someone else to dry her dishes. After my Mother would finish washing the dishes - no Jeanne - so she would start drying the dishes. I couldn’t watch her do this, in good conscience, and usually stepped up and took over wiping the dishes. When I was through, Jeanne would make her grand entrance.
When we lived in Hillsdale (Michigan) during the 20’s and 30’s, I remember an occasion when Jeanne wasn’t feeling well and our Mother gave her a dose of castor oil. (If you have ever tasted that horrible stuff, you can understand why we didn’t complain much.) Jeanne dashed over to the kitchen sink and spit it all out! There was a slight problem. Mother was soaking some spinach in the sink. Mother rinsed it off and served it for supper that night. I took one bite of it and had the second-hand taste of castor oil! I didn’t eat spinach for many years after that. Now, it is one of my favorite vegetables!
Jeanne and I became very close after I left home for the Air Force in March, 1941, even though she "lost my great record collection while I was gone. It included Bluebird, Decca, RCA Victor, Columbia and other bakelite 78's, during the five years leading up to the start of World war II. As I gathered, Jeanne would take my records to parties, but she never got back home with them! They were either broken, stolen or left behind. In spite of this, we were still "friends".
" She and her husband, Bob Gibbens visited us many times in Vallejo - especially, after our Mother moved here in 1985. We in turn visited them many times both in Michigan and in Florida.
Jeanne died in the hospital, in Stuart, Florida, after surgery for an aorta artery aneurism, on September 24, 1998 - at the age of 78. I still miss her, and her sense of humor, very much.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JEANNE!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Happy New Year!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
What a way to start 2008! Things have to improve during the year, after this bummer.
On Thursday, January 3, 2008, it was raining and windy. Nothing unusual for a winter day. But the weather forecast was for more of the same - only of more intensity. About 4 p.m., the kitchen light flickered and dimmed. The low voltage continued another 40 minutes, and then they went out, and we sat in a darkened room
I called PG&E to report our power outage. While I was sure that neighbors had also reported it, I called them anyway. What if no one had called them, because they assumed that someone else had? I am sure that it wasn’t news to the power-grid operator manning the control panel. The PG&E operator told me that our power outage had been reported, and the repair crew was working on it. They estimated that it would be repaired by 12:30 a.m. Friday.
Fortunately, our daughter, Joan, was visiting us at the time of the “dimming of the lights.” She said that we couldn’t stay there without heat, especially since Marie wasn’t feeling well, and invited us to spend the night with her and Manny. We weren’t too keen on imposing on them, but this was an offer that we couldn’t refuse. Joan called Manny at work, and asked him if he would pick us up after he got off work and bring us up with him. He agreed to do so.
So, we scurried around with the flashlight and packed lightly - so lightly that we forgot our toothbrushes. People should practice this packing routine, so that it would not seem so strange in an emergency. It isn’t easy packing in the dark - even for one day. It was great to see Manny. His presence had a calming effect, and a confidence builder that everything would be o.k. Manny helped us finish packing, I turned down the thermostat, locked up, and the three of us were off to Fairfield in the wind and rain. There was a lot of traffic on I-80, but the commuters were driving slower and smarter.
It was reassuring to see Joan once again, and enter their warm and inviting home. Elmo, their cat was there to greet us and check us out, too. He was probably wondering who these strangers were that were intruding in his territory.
Joan had prepared a nice dinner. Afterwards, we watched some television, and then retired to the separate rooms that she had prepared for us. We shared the bathroom. I would say that she gave us very good service for last minute company. Who could ask for more? Just to be warm, dry and safe was a big plus. It is interesting the things that we take for granted, and we don’t appreciate having them until we are deprived of them.
Friday morning, Joan served us a delicious hot oat meal breakfast. A god hearty start for the day which we didn’t know what it would bring. Starting about noon, I called Annie, our next door neighbor, to see if the power had been restored. Shortly after noon - after a morning call or two - I was relieved when she said that the power had come on and had stayed on. So, a little later, on Friday afternoon, January 4, 2008, Joan brought us back home. It was nice to get home even after receiving hospitality above and beyond the call. The first thing that I did - after boosting the thermostat - was to check the frozen food in our freezer. Fortunately, it was still frozen.
I went to bed that night with a very warm feeling - a heart full of love - for Joan and Manny - for helping us in our hour of need. It was very comforting and rewarding, to realize that we had such a thoughtful family. We really appreciated their concern for us.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
What a way to start 2008! Things have to improve during the year, after this bummer.
On Thursday, January 3, 2008, it was raining and windy. Nothing unusual for a winter day. But the weather forecast was for more of the same - only of more intensity. About 4 p.m., the kitchen light flickered and dimmed. The low voltage continued another 40 minutes, and then they went out, and we sat in a darkened room
I called PG&E to report our power outage. While I was sure that neighbors had also reported it, I called them anyway. What if no one had called them, because they assumed that someone else had? I am sure that it wasn’t news to the power-grid operator manning the control panel. The PG&E operator told me that our power outage had been reported, and the repair crew was working on it. They estimated that it would be repaired by 12:30 a.m. Friday.
Fortunately, our daughter, Joan, was visiting us at the time of the “dimming of the lights.” She said that we couldn’t stay there without heat, especially since Marie wasn’t feeling well, and invited us to spend the night with her and Manny. We weren’t too keen on imposing on them, but this was an offer that we couldn’t refuse. Joan called Manny at work, and asked him if he would pick us up after he got off work and bring us up with him. He agreed to do so.
So, we scurried around with the flashlight and packed lightly - so lightly that we forgot our toothbrushes. People should practice this packing routine, so that it would not seem so strange in an emergency. It isn’t easy packing in the dark - even for one day. It was great to see Manny. His presence had a calming effect, and a confidence builder that everything would be o.k. Manny helped us finish packing, I turned down the thermostat, locked up, and the three of us were off to Fairfield in the wind and rain. There was a lot of traffic on I-80, but the commuters were driving slower and smarter.
It was reassuring to see Joan once again, and enter their warm and inviting home. Elmo, their cat was there to greet us and check us out, too. He was probably wondering who these strangers were that were intruding in his territory.
Joan had prepared a nice dinner. Afterwards, we watched some television, and then retired to the separate rooms that she had prepared for us. We shared the bathroom. I would say that she gave us very good service for last minute company. Who could ask for more? Just to be warm, dry and safe was a big plus. It is interesting the things that we take for granted, and we don’t appreciate having them until we are deprived of them.
Friday morning, Joan served us a delicious hot oat meal breakfast. A god hearty start for the day which we didn’t know what it would bring. Starting about noon, I called Annie, our next door neighbor, to see if the power had been restored. Shortly after noon - after a morning call or two - I was relieved when she said that the power had come on and had stayed on. So, a little later, on Friday afternoon, January 4, 2008, Joan brought us back home. It was nice to get home even after receiving hospitality above and beyond the call. The first thing that I did - after boosting the thermostat - was to check the frozen food in our freezer. Fortunately, it was still frozen.
I went to bed that night with a very warm feeling - a heart full of love - for Joan and Manny - for helping us in our hour of need. It was very comforting and rewarding, to realize that we had such a thoughtful family. We really appreciated their concern for us.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
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