BLUE MOON
I was looking forward to admiring the New Year‘s Eve “Blue Moon” tonight. But it was not to be! We are socked in - preparatory to tomorrow’s forecast of rain. Fortunately, I did get a great view of the Blue Moon -“lite”, last night, from my living room window.
I checked Wikipedia for the explanation of a “Blue Moon”. The write-up explained that most lunar years have twelve full moons which occur in approximate monthly cycles. But, with our Gregorian Calendar- year, there are about eleven additional days. These extra “solar days” accumulate so that 7 times, during this 19 year period (235 moon cycles), there is an extra “blue moon.” At the end of this described 19 year period, the “New Moon” appears on the same day as at the beginning of the lunar cycle. Following, is the “extra” full moon. The full moon originally got it’s name from it’s unusual bluish color. This rare event can be caused by pollution in the atmosphere. Today, the layman calls the second full-moon in a month, a “Blue Moon.”
RCL - 12/31/09.
.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
BLUE MOON
BLUE MOON
I was looking forward to admiring the New Year‘s Eve “Blue Moon” tonight. But it was not to be! We are socked in - preparatory to tomorrow’s forecast of rain. Fortunately, I did get a great view of the Blue Moon -“lite”, last night, from my living room window.
I checked Wikipedia for the explanation of a “Blue Moon”. The write-up explained that most lunar years have twelve full moons which occur in approximate monthly cycles. But, with our Gregorian Calendar- year, there are about eleven additional days. These extra “solar days” accumulate so that 7 times, during this 19 year period (235 moon cycles), there is an extra “blue moon.” At the end of this described 19 year period, the “New Moon” appears on the same day as at the beginning of the lunar cycle. Following, is the “extra” full moon. The full moon originally got it’s name from it’s unusual bluish color. This rare event can be caused by pollution in the atmosphere. Today, the layman calls the second full-moon in a month, a “Blue Moon.”
RCL - 12/31/09.
.
I was looking forward to admiring the New Year‘s Eve “Blue Moon” tonight. But it was not to be! We are socked in - preparatory to tomorrow’s forecast of rain. Fortunately, I did get a great view of the Blue Moon -“lite”, last night, from my living room window.
I checked Wikipedia for the explanation of a “Blue Moon”. The write-up explained that most lunar years have twelve full moons which occur in approximate monthly cycles. But, with our Gregorian Calendar- year, there are about eleven additional days. These extra “solar days” accumulate so that 7 times, during this 19 year period (235 moon cycles), there is an extra “blue moon.” At the end of this described 19 year period, the “New Moon” appears on the same day as at the beginning of the lunar cycle. Following, is the “extra” full moon. The full moon originally got it’s name from it’s unusual bluish color. This rare event can be caused by pollution in the atmosphere. Today, the layman calls the second full-moon in a month, a “Blue Moon.”
RCL - 12/31/09.
.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
YULETIDE GREETINGS!
YULETIDE
Well. Christmas is now a memory, but a very nice one.. While there is also sadness, and family tensions, during this Season, all in all, it is a very rewarding experience for most people. I know that I have enjoyed the past few days. Most people that I know, express lots of love and goodwill during this Season.
I always reflect on past Christmases at this time of year. I can recall many nice memories. When our daughters and grandkids were younger, Anne suggested that I “play Santa Claus.” For many years, Anne rented me my red, white and black costume, and without any training, I tried to play the part. If you really want to experience Christmas, don the red suit. I can’t explain my feeling, but I received an emotional boost from the reactions of those that I greeted.
Anne received her moneys worth for the week that I had use
of my Santa suit. I appeared at our grandkids’ second grade classroom, at my Mother’s assisted living facility, and her skilled nursing residence - in succeeding years. I also appeared at Rick’s Christmas -Office Parties. The exchanges with the different ones were very interesting to me. I talked with my Mother, and she didn’t have a clue I was her son. I talked to our grandkids and they looked at me in awe, not recognizing me. Mrs. Brinkman’s class seemed thrilled to have me in their midst. It was interesting when Marie was driving me to my many appearances. People would see me in the car, and wave, or honk their horns - pretty flattering.
Through all of these interactions, I started to get the “Spirit,” and I believed in myself - Santa! I hesitated when Anne first suggested that I “dress up”, but then I realized that I would be experiencing a new role, and I heartily agreed. I am glad that I did. All of us need to get out of our comfortable skin, and try something new and different. (There was the time that I paraded as a female model in a fashion show, but that is another story, for another time!)
It is so rewarding to have family, or friends, to share in celebrating the Holiday Season. Because of them, I didn’t experience the loneliness, or depression, this time of year, that some feel.
Joan and Manny invited me to their Christmas Eve Party. It was very nice, with about 25 family and friends enjoying their festive house - each others’ company - and all the various tasty- dishes of food that people brought. The men did most of the cooking, and their creations were delicious. Melissa and Ryan brought a poker board and shuffleboard game with them from San Diego, along with their dog, Bodie. Jason brought his beagle, Buddy. The dogs kept everyone wide awake as they raced through the living room playing tag! (It used to be the grand kids!). We watched an old DVD, on the big screen, of our grandkids’ “Plays”. It not only was humorous, but well done.
The gift exchange was very interesting and entertaining.
Our instructions were to bring a gift costing less than $25. This open-ended instruction brings out the creativity of people - from the conservative like me to the creative like our host, Manny! There were seventeen “exchangers”. We each drew a number from the paper bag that our hostess Joan passed around. The number we selected was the order in which we picked out our gift. My number was “4”. You could pick from the pile on the floor, or “steal” someone else’s gift. The choosing sounds simple, but it becomes quite intriguing with al of the scheming and “stealing” going on. It seemed like the exchanging would never end. But, after two “steals”, that gift is “dead”, and unavailable for any further “stealing”. When everyone is satisfied with their gift, end of “gifting.” I never was involved in this process before, but it was very interesting, entertaining and enjoyable. When my turn to select came, I went for the smallest package. Initially, this was a good strategy. But, after I opened it, and the participants saw that I had gotten a gift card from Macy’s and a small box of See’s candies, it was a prime stealable.
Sue and Tom gave me a ride home. While we were about the first ones to leave, I didn’t get home until about midnight. I enjoyed Christmas Eve very much.
I arranged to join Marie for Christmas Day-Lunch, at Laurel Creek. I was looking forward to sharing the time and lunch with her. When I entered her room, she was lying down. I wished her a Merry Christmas, and I sat down next to her bed. She reached for my hand, and said “Your hand is cold”. Her hands are always warm, and mine are always cold. (I had just come in from outside). Soon, she let go, and said, “Your hand is heavy”. She never used to complain when we were younger!
I asked Marie if she could remember her nicest Christmas. She thought for a minute, and said they were all nice. Then, I thought, how would I answer, if she had asked me that very same question. I have to say that I would answer the same way. It’s strange though, I remember my two ‘saddest” ones very clearly.
The first of these sad Christmases, away from home, was in 1942. I was stationed in Cut Bank, Montana - 2,000 miles away from Ypsilanti. I was coping quite well with my homesickness, until I heard the choir sing “White Christmas” at Midnight Mass.
My second sad Christmas was after my Dad died on December 21, 1963 (at the age of 73). President Kennedy had been assassinated just a month before my Dad died. My Dad’s funeral was on Christmas Eve. To add to my sadness, it was the first (and only) Christmas that our family didn’t share. Marie and our five daughters, remained in Vallejo, while I flew back to Detroit.
We had just gotten out of the door to Marie’s room, heading for the dining room, and she said “I don’t think I can make it.” So, we returned to her room. I explained the situation to the CNA, and asked if they could bring our meals to her room. This is the first time that I hadn’t eaten with her in the dining room. (I just had lunch with her in the dining room, two days previously, on our Anniversary). So, we made the best of it, and ate together in her room At this stage of life, for your peace of mind, you had better be flexible.
Christmas evening, Mary and Greg invited me to have dinner with them and Daniel. Of course, I accepted. They picked me up, and delivered me back here, at the end of the evening. The dinner, and dessert, were very good (as per usual). The four of us played Scrabble after dinner. I can’t remember the last time that I played that board game. I know that it was a long time ago. The game was stimulating, and I enjoyed it.
Next, on the agenda, is formulating my resolutions for next year.
Ray L’Amoreaux 12/27/09.
Well. Christmas is now a memory, but a very nice one.. While there is also sadness, and family tensions, during this Season, all in all, it is a very rewarding experience for most people. I know that I have enjoyed the past few days. Most people that I know, express lots of love and goodwill during this Season.
I always reflect on past Christmases at this time of year. I can recall many nice memories. When our daughters and grandkids were younger, Anne suggested that I “play Santa Claus.” For many years, Anne rented me my red, white and black costume, and without any training, I tried to play the part. If you really want to experience Christmas, don the red suit. I can’t explain my feeling, but I received an emotional boost from the reactions of those that I greeted.
Anne received her moneys worth for the week that I had use
of my Santa suit. I appeared at our grandkids’ second grade classroom, at my Mother’s assisted living facility, and her skilled nursing residence - in succeeding years. I also appeared at Rick’s Christmas -Office Parties. The exchanges with the different ones were very interesting to me. I talked with my Mother, and she didn’t have a clue I was her son. I talked to our grandkids and they looked at me in awe, not recognizing me. Mrs. Brinkman’s class seemed thrilled to have me in their midst. It was interesting when Marie was driving me to my many appearances. People would see me in the car, and wave, or honk their horns - pretty flattering.
Through all of these interactions, I started to get the “Spirit,” and I believed in myself - Santa! I hesitated when Anne first suggested that I “dress up”, but then I realized that I would be experiencing a new role, and I heartily agreed. I am glad that I did. All of us need to get out of our comfortable skin, and try something new and different. (There was the time that I paraded as a female model in a fashion show, but that is another story, for another time!)
It is so rewarding to have family, or friends, to share in celebrating the Holiday Season. Because of them, I didn’t experience the loneliness, or depression, this time of year, that some feel.
Joan and Manny invited me to their Christmas Eve Party. It was very nice, with about 25 family and friends enjoying their festive house - each others’ company - and all the various tasty- dishes of food that people brought. The men did most of the cooking, and their creations were delicious. Melissa and Ryan brought a poker board and shuffleboard game with them from San Diego, along with their dog, Bodie. Jason brought his beagle, Buddy. The dogs kept everyone wide awake as they raced through the living room playing tag! (It used to be the grand kids!). We watched an old DVD, on the big screen, of our grandkids’ “Plays”. It not only was humorous, but well done.
The gift exchange was very interesting and entertaining.
Our instructions were to bring a gift costing less than $25. This open-ended instruction brings out the creativity of people - from the conservative like me to the creative like our host, Manny! There were seventeen “exchangers”. We each drew a number from the paper bag that our hostess Joan passed around. The number we selected was the order in which we picked out our gift. My number was “4”. You could pick from the pile on the floor, or “steal” someone else’s gift. The choosing sounds simple, but it becomes quite intriguing with al of the scheming and “stealing” going on. It seemed like the exchanging would never end. But, after two “steals”, that gift is “dead”, and unavailable for any further “stealing”. When everyone is satisfied with their gift, end of “gifting.” I never was involved in this process before, but it was very interesting, entertaining and enjoyable. When my turn to select came, I went for the smallest package. Initially, this was a good strategy. But, after I opened it, and the participants saw that I had gotten a gift card from Macy’s and a small box of See’s candies, it was a prime stealable.
Sue and Tom gave me a ride home. While we were about the first ones to leave, I didn’t get home until about midnight. I enjoyed Christmas Eve very much.
I arranged to join Marie for Christmas Day-Lunch, at Laurel Creek. I was looking forward to sharing the time and lunch with her. When I entered her room, she was lying down. I wished her a Merry Christmas, and I sat down next to her bed. She reached for my hand, and said “Your hand is cold”. Her hands are always warm, and mine are always cold. (I had just come in from outside). Soon, she let go, and said, “Your hand is heavy”. She never used to complain when we were younger!
I asked Marie if she could remember her nicest Christmas. She thought for a minute, and said they were all nice. Then, I thought, how would I answer, if she had asked me that very same question. I have to say that I would answer the same way. It’s strange though, I remember my two ‘saddest” ones very clearly.
The first of these sad Christmases, away from home, was in 1942. I was stationed in Cut Bank, Montana - 2,000 miles away from Ypsilanti. I was coping quite well with my homesickness, until I heard the choir sing “White Christmas” at Midnight Mass.
My second sad Christmas was after my Dad died on December 21, 1963 (at the age of 73). President Kennedy had been assassinated just a month before my Dad died. My Dad’s funeral was on Christmas Eve. To add to my sadness, it was the first (and only) Christmas that our family didn’t share. Marie and our five daughters, remained in Vallejo, while I flew back to Detroit.
We had just gotten out of the door to Marie’s room, heading for the dining room, and she said “I don’t think I can make it.” So, we returned to her room. I explained the situation to the CNA, and asked if they could bring our meals to her room. This is the first time that I hadn’t eaten with her in the dining room. (I just had lunch with her in the dining room, two days previously, on our Anniversary). So, we made the best of it, and ate together in her room At this stage of life, for your peace of mind, you had better be flexible.
Christmas evening, Mary and Greg invited me to have dinner with them and Daniel. Of course, I accepted. They picked me up, and delivered me back here, at the end of the evening. The dinner, and dessert, were very good (as per usual). The four of us played Scrabble after dinner. I can’t remember the last time that I played that board game. I know that it was a long time ago. The game was stimulating, and I enjoyed it.
Next, on the agenda, is formulating my resolutions for next year.
Ray L’Amoreaux 12/27/09.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
WEDDED BLISS - P.S.
WEDDED BLISS - P.S.
I have just returned from having lunch with Marie. While there, I re-read our Anniversary card from Mary, Greg, Daniel and Jason. Hallmark says it much better than I put forward in the preceding piece. I would like to share it with you.
“ To Mom and Dad:
Because of the two of you,
I know what love is.
It’s patience. It’s sacrifice.
It’s sharing joy
and keeping faith.
It’s what keeps us strong
and helps us find our way.
Because of the two of you,
I know what family is.
It’s laughing. It’s listening.
It’s growing up and
growing together.
It’s being there for each other,
no matter what.
Because of the two of you,
I know that love and family
Are at the heart of a good life
and a lasting marriage.
Because of the two of you,
I’ll always be thankful
for the love we have
and the family we are.”
-----------------------------------
We shared nice lunches in the Laurel Creek dining room. There was a large Christmas tree, and all the decorations.
Lillibeth, the Station Three nurse, stopped by to wish us a Happy Anniversary. She was marveling at our 65 years together.. I asked her if she was married? She said, “Yes”. I told her “to hang in there. the years go by faster than you think.”
Tony Bennett was singing, via the dining room’s excellent P.A. system:
“I’ve Got It Bad, and That Aint Good.”; “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm”; “Noel”; Baby, It’s Cold Outside”; “Silver Bells”; “Merry Christmas”; “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”, and, of course, “Rudolph” had to have equal time.
As we were eating our banana cake -dessert, one of the servers asked us if we were ready to share our Anniversary Cake? Talk about over-kill! We passed.
Back in Marie’s room, I tried bringing back old memories. I asked her if she remembered our first Christmas Tree? She thought for quite a while, and then she smiled and said, “Yes”. We spent the first night of our honeymoon staying at the Copper Queen Hotel in Bisby. If you have never been there, you should check it out. Our second night was at the El Conquistador Hotel in Tucson. I can’t remember the room rate, but it wasn’t cheap. It was a very nice hotel - the best that I had ever stayed in. Of course the rate was “American Plan”. (Needless to say, I think that we ate only one meal there. What a waste.)
One of the hotel staff brought us a very nice-little decorated -Christmas Tree, and placed it on top of the dresser. Our first Christmas Tree! To celebrate our 50th Anniversary, we took an Elderhostel trip to Douglas. En-route, we wanted to stay at the El Conquistador Hotel for old times sake. When we got to the area we remembered, we couldn’t find the hotel.. I asked around, and learned that the hotel had been torn down, and a parking lot was built right where we were standing! That’s progress, I guess.
Ray L’Amoreaux
December 23, 1944 - December 23, 2009.
I have just returned from having lunch with Marie. While there, I re-read our Anniversary card from Mary, Greg, Daniel and Jason. Hallmark says it much better than I put forward in the preceding piece. I would like to share it with you.
“ To Mom and Dad:
Because of the two of you,
I know what love is.
It’s patience. It’s sacrifice.
It’s sharing joy
and keeping faith.
It’s what keeps us strong
and helps us find our way.
Because of the two of you,
I know what family is.
It’s laughing. It’s listening.
It’s growing up and
growing together.
It’s being there for each other,
no matter what.
Because of the two of you,
I know that love and family
Are at the heart of a good life
and a lasting marriage.
Because of the two of you,
I’ll always be thankful
for the love we have
and the family we are.”
-----------------------------------
We shared nice lunches in the Laurel Creek dining room. There was a large Christmas tree, and all the decorations.
Lillibeth, the Station Three nurse, stopped by to wish us a Happy Anniversary. She was marveling at our 65 years together.. I asked her if she was married? She said, “Yes”. I told her “to hang in there. the years go by faster than you think.”
Tony Bennett was singing, via the dining room’s excellent P.A. system:
“I’ve Got It Bad, and That Aint Good.”; “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm”; “Noel”; Baby, It’s Cold Outside”; “Silver Bells”; “Merry Christmas”; “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”, and, of course, “Rudolph” had to have equal time.
As we were eating our banana cake -dessert, one of the servers asked us if we were ready to share our Anniversary Cake? Talk about over-kill! We passed.
Back in Marie’s room, I tried bringing back old memories. I asked her if she remembered our first Christmas Tree? She thought for quite a while, and then she smiled and said, “Yes”. We spent the first night of our honeymoon staying at the Copper Queen Hotel in Bisby. If you have never been there, you should check it out. Our second night was at the El Conquistador Hotel in Tucson. I can’t remember the room rate, but it wasn’t cheap. It was a very nice hotel - the best that I had ever stayed in. Of course the rate was “American Plan”. (Needless to say, I think that we ate only one meal there. What a waste.)
One of the hotel staff brought us a very nice-little decorated -Christmas Tree, and placed it on top of the dresser. Our first Christmas Tree! To celebrate our 50th Anniversary, we took an Elderhostel trip to Douglas. En-route, we wanted to stay at the El Conquistador Hotel for old times sake. When we got to the area we remembered, we couldn’t find the hotel.. I asked around, and learned that the hotel had been torn down, and a parking lot was built right where we were standing! That’s progress, I guess.
Ray L’Amoreaux
December 23, 1944 - December 23, 2009.
WEDDED BLISS
WEDDED BLISS.
Marie and I were married sixty five years ago today! She pinned my pilot wings on me that Saturday morning, December 23, 1944, and we were married that afternoon. Both events took place in Douglas Arizona. I am sure that we weren’t visualizing this day, when we looked into each others’ eyes. Marie would be returning to Mills College, and I would be flying in operational training, preparatory to being assigned to the Fifth Air Force in the South Pacific.
We were married in the Immaculate Conception Church. My B-25 instructor was my “Best Man”, and his wife was Marie’s Matron of Honor. Marie met them both for the first (and last) time at the altar. We were fortunate to have Marie’s mother, Ethel, there with us.
Today, December 23, 2009, I will have lunch with Marie at her residence, the Laurel Creek Health Center. I am fortunate that I can visit her each day. When I saw her yesterday, I told her that I would be having lunch with her this noon. I expected her to be pleased. She said, “Well, big deal!”
We hear about wisdom coming from the mouths of babes. How about the frankness coming from the mouth of a wife who has lost 50 per-cent of the brain cells in her frontal cortex? Very interesting.
People ask me what I attribute to our long marriage. You would think, by now, I would have formularized the secret. First of all, one must be blessed with good genes to survive that many years. Two, Lady Luck certainly has to come into play. And three, “you have to be in the moment” - you must have an awareness of the present situation. I have done my best to minimize conflict. But, when that fails you fall back on the trite “give and take” dynamics. Then, you hope and pray for the best outcome. Marie and I have been very fortunate to have liked each other, and to have enjoyed each others company all these many years. That always makes a happy marriage.
So, Good Luck to all of you “short timers.” Marriage - like life - is common sense and hard work. Without it, our culture is experiencing a shameful 50 percent divorce rate! I trust that I am “preaching to the choir”.
Ray L’Amoreaux
December 23, 2009.
Marie and I were married sixty five years ago today! She pinned my pilot wings on me that Saturday morning, December 23, 1944, and we were married that afternoon. Both events took place in Douglas Arizona. I am sure that we weren’t visualizing this day, when we looked into each others’ eyes. Marie would be returning to Mills College, and I would be flying in operational training, preparatory to being assigned to the Fifth Air Force in the South Pacific.
We were married in the Immaculate Conception Church. My B-25 instructor was my “Best Man”, and his wife was Marie’s Matron of Honor. Marie met them both for the first (and last) time at the altar. We were fortunate to have Marie’s mother, Ethel, there with us.
Today, December 23, 2009, I will have lunch with Marie at her residence, the Laurel Creek Health Center. I am fortunate that I can visit her each day. When I saw her yesterday, I told her that I would be having lunch with her this noon. I expected her to be pleased. She said, “Well, big deal!”
We hear about wisdom coming from the mouths of babes. How about the frankness coming from the mouth of a wife who has lost 50 per-cent of the brain cells in her frontal cortex? Very interesting.
People ask me what I attribute to our long marriage. You would think, by now, I would have formularized the secret. First of all, one must be blessed with good genes to survive that many years. Two, Lady Luck certainly has to come into play. And three, “you have to be in the moment” - you must have an awareness of the present situation. I have done my best to minimize conflict. But, when that fails you fall back on the trite “give and take” dynamics. Then, you hope and pray for the best outcome. Marie and I have been very fortunate to have liked each other, and to have enjoyed each others company all these many years. That always makes a happy marriage.
So, Good Luck to all of you “short timers.” Marriage - like life - is common sense and hard work. Without it, our culture is experiencing a shameful 50 percent divorce rate! I trust that I am “preaching to the choir”.
Ray L’Amoreaux
December 23, 2009.
Monday, December 21, 2009
GRADUATION DAY
GRADUATION DAY.
Saturday, December 12, 2009. Today is a big day! Two of my grandsons are graduating! I am very proud to be their grandfather.
Mary and Greg picked me up this morning at Quail Creek, and gave me a ride to the Napa Valley College, where their son, and my grandson, Daniel, was graduating, with the 76th Basic Police Academy Class. Daniel had previously graduated from the University of California - Sacramento, majoring in Criminal Justice. The Police Academy was an extension of his University training. The course was a very demanding “hands on” training. Their discipline reminded me of my Boot Camp. To give you an idea of how rigorous the 22 week course was (880 training hours), the class started on July 11 with 54 cadets. Today, there are only 34 graduating - three of them women! Their ages ran from 20-40, with various backgrounds. The Cadets’ achievement was all the more commendable, when I think of the $6500 tuition fee each of them had to pay. Police Departments used to sponsor the cadets. But, with tight- Public Safety funding in this “Recession” economy, that has stopped.
The graduation ceremony was very impressive. The Dunvegan Pipe Band played, as they led the graduation procession. The Napa Sheriff Honor guard presented the Colors. After the singing of the National Anthem, there was a Moment of Silence to honor all of the Law Enforcement Officers killed doing their job!
Jim Nelson, Class 76 Recruit Training Officer, Addressed the graduates. I remember one of his key points. He said that water at 211 degrees is very hot water, but if you add one more degree it becomes steam. He was illustrating how a little bit of extra effort can make a big difference
Before the Cadets received their certificates, all 34 of the class recited the "Law Enforcement Code Of Ethics" in unison! They spoke with one voice. The "Code" wasn't simple. It covered the 5 by 8 inch back page of the program!
Mary and Greg dropped me off, back at Quail Creed, for lunch and a short respite. Then, Sue and Tom picked me up to attend Jason Torres graduation in Stockton. Jason is Mary and Greg’s son, and the brother of Daniel.. We headed for Stockton about 60 miles to the East for the 4 o’clock ceremony.
Jason graduated from De Vry College in Sacramento, and received his Bachelors degree in Business. After a short work experience, Jason enrolled in the MBA program at the University of the Pacific in Stockton. There were 26 Eberhardt MBA graduates - many of them young women.
Dr. Cynthia Eakin, Associate Dean for Graduate Programs welcomed us. The MBA Student Speaker was Amanda Marchini.
The MBA Staff honored the graduates, and their families, with a very nice dinner at the DeRosa University Center. The building was very nice and inviting. After a great dinner, they presented a video on the big screen of Joe Johnson, one of the school’s retired professors. He couldn’t make the graduation ceremony, and dinner, because he was vacationing in Hawaii!
I was very impressed with some of his remarks, and made a few notes. As I listened to him talk, I had the feeling of what a great experience if I had him for one of my college courses. He inspired me so much that I wished that I had pursued my Master’s degree. I did start the program with six Management units at Cal Berkeley, while I was working at U.S. Steel Company. I decided that I couldn’t continue working, going to school which included commuting from Antioch to Berkeley, and still fulfill my duties as a husband and father. I made the right decision at the time.
I jotted down some of Joe’s remarks:
“Work should be rewarding, including financially and pleasurable. If you are working for an unbearable boss, that you can’t tolerate, then leave. He calls this the “Piss-off” factor. You should always be prepared to go to work. You never know when you will be asked to do something important. When you are given an opportunity, make sure that you show up, and do it well. Be honest and true to yourself. If you don’t know the answer, find out. Earn the right to play. Play a leadership role. You are valued for what you do - not for what you say.”
It must have been rewarding for Daniel and Jason to have so many of their family and friends in attendance, supporting and honoring them.
At the end of the evening, I was tired. Or, as my Mother used to say - “A good tired”. But, my pride, and inspiration, made it all worthwhile.
RCL - 12/21/09.
Saturday, December 12, 2009. Today is a big day! Two of my grandsons are graduating! I am very proud to be their grandfather.
Mary and Greg picked me up this morning at Quail Creek, and gave me a ride to the Napa Valley College, where their son, and my grandson, Daniel, was graduating, with the 76th Basic Police Academy Class. Daniel had previously graduated from the University of California - Sacramento, majoring in Criminal Justice. The Police Academy was an extension of his University training. The course was a very demanding “hands on” training. Their discipline reminded me of my Boot Camp. To give you an idea of how rigorous the 22 week course was (880 training hours), the class started on July 11 with 54 cadets. Today, there are only 34 graduating - three of them women! Their ages ran from 20-40, with various backgrounds. The Cadets’ achievement was all the more commendable, when I think of the $6500 tuition fee each of them had to pay. Police Departments used to sponsor the cadets. But, with tight- Public Safety funding in this “Recession” economy, that has stopped.
The graduation ceremony was very impressive. The Dunvegan Pipe Band played, as they led the graduation procession. The Napa Sheriff Honor guard presented the Colors. After the singing of the National Anthem, there was a Moment of Silence to honor all of the Law Enforcement Officers killed doing their job!
Jim Nelson, Class 76 Recruit Training Officer, Addressed the graduates. I remember one of his key points. He said that water at 211 degrees is very hot water, but if you add one more degree it becomes steam. He was illustrating how a little bit of extra effort can make a big difference
Before the Cadets received their certificates, all 34 of the class recited the "Law Enforcement Code Of Ethics" in unison! They spoke with one voice. The "Code" wasn't simple. It covered the 5 by 8 inch back page of the program!
Mary and Greg dropped me off, back at Quail Creed, for lunch and a short respite. Then, Sue and Tom picked me up to attend Jason Torres graduation in Stockton. Jason is Mary and Greg’s son, and the brother of Daniel.. We headed for Stockton about 60 miles to the East for the 4 o’clock ceremony.
Jason graduated from De Vry College in Sacramento, and received his Bachelors degree in Business. After a short work experience, Jason enrolled in the MBA program at the University of the Pacific in Stockton. There were 26 Eberhardt MBA graduates - many of them young women.
Dr. Cynthia Eakin, Associate Dean for Graduate Programs welcomed us. The MBA Student Speaker was Amanda Marchini.
The MBA Staff honored the graduates, and their families, with a very nice dinner at the DeRosa University Center. The building was very nice and inviting. After a great dinner, they presented a video on the big screen of Joe Johnson, one of the school’s retired professors. He couldn’t make the graduation ceremony, and dinner, because he was vacationing in Hawaii!
I was very impressed with some of his remarks, and made a few notes. As I listened to him talk, I had the feeling of what a great experience if I had him for one of my college courses. He inspired me so much that I wished that I had pursued my Master’s degree. I did start the program with six Management units at Cal Berkeley, while I was working at U.S. Steel Company. I decided that I couldn’t continue working, going to school which included commuting from Antioch to Berkeley, and still fulfill my duties as a husband and father. I made the right decision at the time.
I jotted down some of Joe’s remarks:
“Work should be rewarding, including financially and pleasurable. If you are working for an unbearable boss, that you can’t tolerate, then leave. He calls this the “Piss-off” factor. You should always be prepared to go to work. You never know when you will be asked to do something important. When you are given an opportunity, make sure that you show up, and do it well. Be honest and true to yourself. If you don’t know the answer, find out. Earn the right to play. Play a leadership role. You are valued for what you do - not for what you say.”
It must have been rewarding for Daniel and Jason to have so many of their family and friends in attendance, supporting and honoring them.
At the end of the evening, I was tired. Or, as my Mother used to say - “A good tired”. But, my pride, and inspiration, made it all worthwhile.
RCL - 12/21/09.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
GOODBYE RELIABLE ONE!
GOODBYE MY RELIABLE ONE!
I finally decided to sell our Buick, even though I am licensed until November 11, 2012. Joan and I were discussing my emotion on my decision, after driving a car for 75 years. I have mixed emotions. I was sad when Manny said that he had sold our Buick Century (on Craig’s’ List) to the first caller. He is quite a marketing genius, because he sold my Ford Escort to the first caller a few years ago. But, also, I was relieved. No more concern about maintenance, licensing, smogging, insurance and exposure of the car to the weather. What a load off!
Before going to bed for the past 20 months, I have always looked out my bedroom window, and checked on our car parked below. I wanted to make sure that the car was still there, and no one was siphoning the gas - even though we are living in a “gated community”. I still can’t get used to seeing the empty “04”, reserved spot, in our parking lot.
While the Buick had less than 57,000 miles on the odometer, (just broken in !),I have driven, at least the equivalent, of 30 times around the world during my 65 years of licensed driving. As I recall, I received only two tickets for moving violations during all those years of driving.
The first one was in 1937 for “speeding” on Washtenaw avenue, a nice residential area in Ann Arbor (housing many University of Michigan fraternities). The posted speed limit was 35mph, and I was going down the grade at 45! I was late on my way to work. The “stop” was so traumatic that I promised myself that I would never get a speeding ticket again. I kept my promise. That’s why I have the reputation for driving in the slow lane at 55 mph.
The second ticket was a strange one. The military could expect this harassment of the military in the South during WWII. Marie and I were on our way out to the Air Base, in Greenville, SC. I was driving on this long sweeping curve to my left (after all the intervening years, I can still accurately picture it!). The car ahead of me was going about 35mph. The driver stuck his arm out the window and waved me by. I had good visibility, and I could see that the coast was clear. So, I passed him. I hadn’t anymore pulled back into the lane, when he turned on his siren. (It was an un-marked car!). I pulled over on the shoulder and stopped. He came to my window and said that he was giving me a ticket for passing on a curve. He was the typical stereotype, of the Southern police officer, that we all have seen in the movies and in the TV commercials. He told me to appear in Traffic Court on Tuesday. I told him that I was flying on Tuesday. Then, he said, you can give me your $5 fine. I told him that I didn’t have any cash on me. Then, he said, “I’ll follow you out to the Base, and you can get a check cashed at the Officers’ Club.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! So, he followed me out to the Base, and waited for me outside the Officers’ Club, to cash my check. I came back to his car, and gave him a $5 bill. No receipt. So it was bye - bye baby! True story!
During the past 65 years I (or we) have owned twelve cars:- all new except for the first two, and the 1957 Ford.
1924 Model T touring car.
1931 Model A coupe (no rumble seat!)
1940 Chevrolet two door
1941 Chevrolet convertible
1947 Kaiser four door
1952 Chevrolet coupe
1957 Ford - 9 passenger station wagon
1963 Chevrolet II 9 passenger station wagon (Gertrude).
1971 Chevrolet coupe (“Blue Flame”,)
1983 Buick Skylark coupe
1988 Ford Escort two door
1994 BUICK CENTURY!
RCL 12/19/09.
I finally decided to sell our Buick, even though I am licensed until November 11, 2012. Joan and I were discussing my emotion on my decision, after driving a car for 75 years. I have mixed emotions. I was sad when Manny said that he had sold our Buick Century (on Craig’s’ List) to the first caller. He is quite a marketing genius, because he sold my Ford Escort to the first caller a few years ago. But, also, I was relieved. No more concern about maintenance, licensing, smogging, insurance and exposure of the car to the weather. What a load off!
Before going to bed for the past 20 months, I have always looked out my bedroom window, and checked on our car parked below. I wanted to make sure that the car was still there, and no one was siphoning the gas - even though we are living in a “gated community”. I still can’t get used to seeing the empty “04”, reserved spot, in our parking lot.
While the Buick had less than 57,000 miles on the odometer, (just broken in !),I have driven, at least the equivalent, of 30 times around the world during my 65 years of licensed driving. As I recall, I received only two tickets for moving violations during all those years of driving.
The first one was in 1937 for “speeding” on Washtenaw avenue, a nice residential area in Ann Arbor (housing many University of Michigan fraternities). The posted speed limit was 35mph, and I was going down the grade at 45! I was late on my way to work. The “stop” was so traumatic that I promised myself that I would never get a speeding ticket again. I kept my promise. That’s why I have the reputation for driving in the slow lane at 55 mph.
The second ticket was a strange one. The military could expect this harassment of the military in the South during WWII. Marie and I were on our way out to the Air Base, in Greenville, SC. I was driving on this long sweeping curve to my left (after all the intervening years, I can still accurately picture it!). The car ahead of me was going about 35mph. The driver stuck his arm out the window and waved me by. I had good visibility, and I could see that the coast was clear. So, I passed him. I hadn’t anymore pulled back into the lane, when he turned on his siren. (It was an un-marked car!). I pulled over on the shoulder and stopped. He came to my window and said that he was giving me a ticket for passing on a curve. He was the typical stereotype, of the Southern police officer, that we all have seen in the movies and in the TV commercials. He told me to appear in Traffic Court on Tuesday. I told him that I was flying on Tuesday. Then, he said, you can give me your $5 fine. I told him that I didn’t have any cash on me. Then, he said, “I’ll follow you out to the Base, and you can get a check cashed at the Officers’ Club.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! So, he followed me out to the Base, and waited for me outside the Officers’ Club, to cash my check. I came back to his car, and gave him a $5 bill. No receipt. So it was bye - bye baby! True story!
During the past 65 years I (or we) have owned twelve cars:- all new except for the first two, and the 1957 Ford.
1924 Model T touring car.
1931 Model A coupe (no rumble seat!)
1940 Chevrolet two door
1941 Chevrolet convertible
1947 Kaiser four door
1952 Chevrolet coupe
1957 Ford - 9 passenger station wagon
1963 Chevrolet II 9 passenger station wagon (Gertrude).
1971 Chevrolet coupe (“Blue Flame”,)
1983 Buick Skylark coupe
1988 Ford Escort two door
1994 BUICK CENTURY!
RCL 12/19/09.
OBSERVATIONS
OBSERVATIONS
I have just returned to Quail Creek, from visiting Marie at Laurel Creek. I accompanied Marie from her room, down the hallways to the very nice dining room. The Staff has gone all out to make the Holiday Season as nice as possible for the residents. They have gone to a lot of work, decorating the dining room. The Christmas tree is especially attractive. They had Christmas carols playing on the P.A. system. At that moment, Frank Sinatra was singing, “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” The music stirred my dormant - gut-wrenching emotion that I had experienced during the Christmas of 1942. I was just out of Bombardiering School, and had been assigned to my new B-17 Flying Fortress crew. I was attending Midnight Mass in Cut Bank, Montana. It was my first Christmas away from home. “Home” was over 2,000 miles away in Ypsilanti, as I listened to that carol 67 years ago.
Back to reality, and Laurel creek. I particularly looked at the expressions of the four ladies sitting at Marie’s dining table while the song was playing. I was looking for some sign - however slight - of their past memories of Christmas - thoughts which might have been triggered by Frank’s inspirational carol. I saw none. Their stoic expressions were the same. Apparently, there was no connect. I don’t think it was a hearing problem, as the volume was pretty loud. Then, I wondered just what thoughts that their tortured minds were processing at the moment. I will never know.
As I was cutting through the beautifully decorated Community Center, on my way back, I ran into Mary Anne. She is a very pleasant, warm and personable lady. I first met her while playing bocce, and subsequently, while playing bridge upstairs in the Community Card Room. Mary Anne was sitting on her motorized scooter, and was wearing a beautiful Christmas- red coat. I couldn’t help but notice how warm appearing and pretty it was. I commented on her coat. Mary Anne asked me if I knew how old it was. To me that was a “loaded” question. Similar to Marie asking me if the new dress made her look too heavy? I safely answered her by saying “No”. She said 40 years! (It looked like new!) I told her that it was a good thing that she hung on to it, because now it was back in style. She seemed pleased with my response. I think that my mind was reflecting on “coats,” because, yesterday, my youngest daughter Sue, took me to Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Church, where we donated five of Marie’s nice winter coats to be given to the less fortunate. RCL - 12/19/09.
I have just returned to Quail Creek, from visiting Marie at Laurel Creek. I accompanied Marie from her room, down the hallways to the very nice dining room. The Staff has gone all out to make the Holiday Season as nice as possible for the residents. They have gone to a lot of work, decorating the dining room. The Christmas tree is especially attractive. They had Christmas carols playing on the P.A. system. At that moment, Frank Sinatra was singing, “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.” The music stirred my dormant - gut-wrenching emotion that I had experienced during the Christmas of 1942. I was just out of Bombardiering School, and had been assigned to my new B-17 Flying Fortress crew. I was attending Midnight Mass in Cut Bank, Montana. It was my first Christmas away from home. “Home” was over 2,000 miles away in Ypsilanti, as I listened to that carol 67 years ago.
Back to reality, and Laurel creek. I particularly looked at the expressions of the four ladies sitting at Marie’s dining table while the song was playing. I was looking for some sign - however slight - of their past memories of Christmas - thoughts which might have been triggered by Frank’s inspirational carol. I saw none. Their stoic expressions were the same. Apparently, there was no connect. I don’t think it was a hearing problem, as the volume was pretty loud. Then, I wondered just what thoughts that their tortured minds were processing at the moment. I will never know.
As I was cutting through the beautifully decorated Community Center, on my way back, I ran into Mary Anne. She is a very pleasant, warm and personable lady. I first met her while playing bocce, and subsequently, while playing bridge upstairs in the Community Card Room. Mary Anne was sitting on her motorized scooter, and was wearing a beautiful Christmas- red coat. I couldn’t help but notice how warm appearing and pretty it was. I commented on her coat. Mary Anne asked me if I knew how old it was. To me that was a “loaded” question. Similar to Marie asking me if the new dress made her look too heavy? I safely answered her by saying “No”. She said 40 years! (It looked like new!) I told her that it was a good thing that she hung on to it, because now it was back in style. She seemed pleased with my response. I think that my mind was reflecting on “coats,” because, yesterday, my youngest daughter Sue, took me to Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Church, where we donated five of Marie’s nice winter coats to be given to the less fortunate. RCL - 12/19/09.
Monday, December 14, 2009
BLOG
BLOG
I realize that I have fallen behind on my blogging. Please forgive. I have been so busy, of late, with activities worth blogging about, that I haven’t had the time to actually write the blog!
RCL - 12/14/09.
I realize that I have fallen behind on my blogging. Please forgive. I have been so busy, of late, with activities worth blogging about, that I haven’t had the time to actually write the blog!
RCL - 12/14/09.
Friday, December 4, 2009
HOME
HOME
I never thought much about the definition of “Home” before. I think that home means different things to different people, Home is in the eye of the beholder. Webster defines “Home” with multiple definitions - covering 3 ½ column- inches. Home is a nifty word. It is very flexible and adaptable. The word “Home” can be used as a noun, verb or adverb!
When I was young, home was where my parents and siblings resided. When I was in the Air Force, “Home was still the same place. After Marie and I were married, Home was two places - homes, where we were currently living and each of our former family homes.
The reason that I bring this up is, Marie mentions “home” quite frequently, She and I lived together, here at Quail Creek, for a year before she moved to the Laurel Creek Health Center. When her dementia became worse, she frequently mentioned that she “wanted to go home”. I asked her where home was - expecting her to say “Vallejo”. our prior home. Instead, she surprised me when she said “Where my Mother and sisters are”. The reason that I was surprised, is that all four of them are deceased.
At Laurel Creek, Marie frequently asks me when she can go home? I asked her the same question, and she said “Where you are.” While her reply makes sense to me, I think of “home” where I am physically located.
This “homing” request is not unique to Marie. It seems to go with the territory. I hear the same thing from other residents of Laurel Creek. The solicitations fly in the face of their getting the best care that money can buy - perhaps, except for private in-home care. A fairly new resident appeals to me every day, when I am there visiting Marie. As I approach her in the hallway, as she sits in her wheel chair, she greets me with “Darling will you help me? Will you take me home?” My response is: (I would preface it with the word “darling”, but this probably would not be politically correct) - “You are home”.
After passing, I can hear her make the same request from the next passer-by - be it staff or a visitor.
Marie and I have moved twenty six times during our nearly 65 years of marriage. Were each of these places “homes”? While 26 moves seem like a lot, they were a lot. Many of the moves came during WWII and the Korean Wars, when I was in the Air Force.
Our moves were pretty simple. We threw all of our possessions in the trunk, and back seat, of the car, and we were “moving”. These many moves were offset by a longer stay in Vallejo. We lived 24 years in our first home, and then 22 years in the second one - before we moved to Fairfield in 2008.
So, this Holiday, when we hear the recording of Tony Bennett singing “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, it will bring back different memories of “home” for all of us.
RCL - 12/3/09.
- 12/4/09.
I never thought much about the definition of “Home” before. I think that home means different things to different people, Home is in the eye of the beholder. Webster defines “Home” with multiple definitions - covering 3 ½ column- inches. Home is a nifty word. It is very flexible and adaptable. The word “Home” can be used as a noun, verb or adverb!
When I was young, home was where my parents and siblings resided. When I was in the Air Force, “Home was still the same place. After Marie and I were married, Home was two places - homes, where we were currently living and each of our former family homes.
The reason that I bring this up is, Marie mentions “home” quite frequently, She and I lived together, here at Quail Creek, for a year before she moved to the Laurel Creek Health Center. When her dementia became worse, she frequently mentioned that she “wanted to go home”. I asked her where home was - expecting her to say “Vallejo”. our prior home. Instead, she surprised me when she said “Where my Mother and sisters are”. The reason that I was surprised, is that all four of them are deceased.
At Laurel Creek, Marie frequently asks me when she can go home? I asked her the same question, and she said “Where you are.” While her reply makes sense to me, I think of “home” where I am physically located.
This “homing” request is not unique to Marie. It seems to go with the territory. I hear the same thing from other residents of Laurel Creek. The solicitations fly in the face of their getting the best care that money can buy - perhaps, except for private in-home care. A fairly new resident appeals to me every day, when I am there visiting Marie. As I approach her in the hallway, as she sits in her wheel chair, she greets me with “Darling will you help me? Will you take me home?” My response is: (I would preface it with the word “darling”, but this probably would not be politically correct) - “You are home”.
After passing, I can hear her make the same request from the next passer-by - be it staff or a visitor.
Marie and I have moved twenty six times during our nearly 65 years of marriage. Were each of these places “homes”? While 26 moves seem like a lot, they were a lot. Many of the moves came during WWII and the Korean Wars, when I was in the Air Force.
Our moves were pretty simple. We threw all of our possessions in the trunk, and back seat, of the car, and we were “moving”. These many moves were offset by a longer stay in Vallejo. We lived 24 years in our first home, and then 22 years in the second one - before we moved to Fairfield in 2008.
So, this Holiday, when we hear the recording of Tony Bennett singing “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, it will bring back different memories of “home” for all of us.
RCL - 12/3/09.
- 12/4/09.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
HELICOPTER PARENTS
HELICOPTER PARENTS
I just finished reading a very interesting and provocative article in the current TIME magazine (November 30, 2009). It was titled, “Can These Parents Be Saved?”. It was authored by Nancy Gibbs, and she did a very commendable job. I recommend that you read her article, even though it probably doesn’t describe your parenting.
Nancy labeled these over-protective Moms and Dads - “Helicopter Parents”! I flew in a helicopter, as a passenger, recently, and her term for over-protective guardians is most descriptive. They “hover” over their kids! How did our culture wander so far off track in three generations? Parents should be role models and teachers - not micro managers of the human spirit.
Were my Great Depression cohorts short changed by our parents when we were in school during the 1920’s and 30’s? I don’t think so. They taught us by their example. They told us that “this is how it is.” Then, they told us that we were responsible for our conduct, and we would be held accountable for any fall downs. We understood this, and we accepted our parents challenge. I felt good having such responsibility. I wouldn’t do anything to embarrass them.
Even though I was very young, I took my responsibility as a good citizen seriously. I went alone - from Hillsdale to Chicago - a four hour train ride - when I was six years old. Can you picture today’s parent letting their eight year old son go door to door, in the dark of winter afternoons, selling magazines, as I did? I delivered the Hillsdale Daily News when I was 10 years old. I attended Boy Scout meetings at night alone. My Mother didn’t accompany me on Halloween. My friends did.
I was caught chewing gum in my sixth grade class. Our teacher, Miss May, was the Central School principal. I knew better, but I broke the rule. Miss May called me up to the front of her desk. I did as I was bid. She told me to take the gum out of my mouth and place it on the tip of my nose, which I did. Then, she said turn around and stand there until I tell you to go to your seat. Talk about embarrassment! I couldn’t look into the smiling faces of my classmates. I don’t remember how long my torture went on, but it was plenty long for Miss May to make her point!(I very seldom chewed gum after that.) I didn’t go home, crying, and blaming the teacher for my punishment. I knew that if I did, my Dad would back the teacher, and give me a whack for good measure! Today, the child’s mother would go to the School board and claim “child cruelty” and demand that “the teacher be fired for embarrassing their little Raymond.” I held no grudge. Miss May was one on my favorite teachers. I even corresponded with her after moving to Berea (Ohio) at the end of that school year in 1930.
I walked to and from school - including going home for lunch. I walked to Church on Sunday and to Catechism class on Saturday afternoon. Vans, and parent chauffeurs, didn’t exist. My Mother didn’t know how to drive. It didn’t matter, because we didn’t have a car.
I went to St. Mary’s Catholic school in Berea for my seventh and eighth grades. Now there was discipline. Sister Edith was the principal and my teacher. I never got in trouble. Not, because I was a “goody goody”, but because I was a fast learner! I knew the rules and boundaries, and I heeded them. I figured that ‘Life” was much simpler that way. There were a couple of instances that I was a by-stander to unacceptable conduct. My friend “Hoy” was the class clown. Sister apparently, didn’t think that he was as funny as we did. I don’t even remember what happened. But, she called Hoy up to her desk, and said, “Get me the biggest measuring stick that you can find. Hoy came back with a 12 inch ruler. Sister didn’t think it was as funny as we did. She repeated her command. This time Hoy apparently got the message, and brought back the yardstick which was stored in the cloak room. Sister said “Give me your hand. Hoy extended his arm. She grabbed his hand and wound up with the same motion. Then, on her down swing, Hoy pulled his hand from Sister’s grasp, and she hit her leg with the yardstick. I’m sure she didn’t even feel it with her large -hanging rosary and full-flowing black outfit breaking the blow. To say that Sister Edith was upset, was a big understatement, as we all were taking in the “punishment”. Then she took a wild swing at Hoy.
On another occasion, I was in the Boy’s Bathroom in the school basement. I could smell cigarette smoke when I opened the door. There was Sam standing at the urinal next to me. When I first met Sam, I thought that he was an “Eskimo”, but later learned that Sam was a Native American boy (We used the term “Indian” back then.) I think he was 18 years old, and still in the eighth grade! I remember his whiskers. While we both were standing there, I heard the bathroom door open. Then, I heard Sister’s large rosary clanking as she walked toward us. She grabbed Sam by the arm - while he was still in mid-stream - and marched him out of the bathroom. No words were spoken. I have often searched my memory for what happened afterwards, but each time, I draw a blank. Still, Sister Edith was my mentor and role model. I give her a lot of credit for molding my personality and philosophy of life. She was a loyal friend. We still corresponded ten years later, during the months I served in North Africa. Her letters, and prayers, not only boosted my spirit, but I am sure played a big part in my surviving 50 combat missions.
Sister Edith taught a group of 7th and 8th grade students to be altar boys. (alter girls hadn’t been invented back then,) She not only taught us our Latin responses to the priest, but also all of our serving routine. They say that “if the student hasn’t learned, the teacher hasn’t taught”. Sister taught and I learned. I looked forward to being assigned to serve weddings, because the groom usually tipped us. But, funerals were another story. I guess it wasn’t proper to tip altar boys for funerals - even though our duties were about the same. Too sad, I guess.
I remember how I sweated out report card time. I would bring my card home from school and debate which parent to ask to sign it - depending on their mood. Today - if they still have “Report Cards”, the parents probably grade their kids and their kids may sign off.! Today, I can’t imagine parents who protest the grades on their kid’s homework and special projects. The term “homework” in PRE-SCHOOL today, didn’t exist in my day. Our Mothers taught pre-school.
Today, parents are obsessed about their child’s safety and success. When I was in the seventh and eighth grades, during the summer months, I would put a peanut butter sandwich in my pocket in the morning, and roam all over town with my friends. Granted, it was a small town - population about 5,000. We weren’t into vandalizing, but to entertain ourselves. We would also take our bats, balls and gloves and challenge kids on the other side of town to a pick-up game. Afterwards, we would go “skinny-dipping” in an abandoned- sandstone quarry - 300 feet deep with COLD water. It’s a wonder we didn’t cramp up and drown! Swimming was fun. But, sometimes when we got out, our clothes were missing. Our “friends” snuck up and hid them. The heli- folks would freak out if this happened today - with no life guard. It wasn’t a case of my parents not being fearful for my safety, it was a case of not knowing where I was, or what I was doing. Apparently, they trusted my judgment - even at that tender age. I know that they cared.
Today, parents use the computer, TV and electronic games to entertain (and baby sit) their kids. What happened to Erector Sets, Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs and Lego toys?
I didn’t receive an allowance when I was growing up. If I wanted “spending” money, I was expected to earn it. Today’s parents must feel that if they don’t give their kids everything they want, they won’t love them. So be it. Let them work and earn their own money. They will appreciate the value of their spending more. Why contribute to a tobacco or drug habit? The world has enough problems!
I don’t want to leave the impression that I was self-raised. To the contrary. My sister Jeanne and brothers Bob and Jack got plenty of attention and TLC from our parents. They guided, and trained us, to be good citizens. They encouraged us to do our very best - that’s all they expected of us. “Over-achieving” wasn’t in their vocabulary. My parents never attended any of my high school sporting events, or my band concerts. I can’t remember whether they attended my high school graduation or not. But, they certainly were there for me during World war II. They came out from Ypsilanti to Victorville, when I graduated from Bombardiering School. They wrote to me often during the seven months that I was overseas.
During all of this dialogue, I don’t want to give the impression that I have been the perfect parent for my five daughters. For example:-
I always took my youngest daughter Sue with me when I got a haircut. The first thing that she would do in the barber shop was go to the magazine rack. She would pick up a copy of “Playboy”, sit on the floor, and start turning the pages. John (my barber) would go over and gently take it from her, and hand her a comic book in return. He hadn’t any more returned to his barbering chair, than Sue would put the Comic Book down and pick up the Playboy!
In closing this essay, I would like to quote from Nancy Gibb’s conclusion to her article - a quote that D.H. Lawrence made back in 1918 - the year of my birth! “How to educate a child. First Rule: leave him alone; Second Rule: leave him alone; Third Rule: Leave him alone; That is the whole beginning.” (Nancy goes on to say, “Of course, that was easy for him to say. He had no kids.”)
RCL - 11/28/09.
I just finished reading a very interesting and provocative article in the current TIME magazine (November 30, 2009). It was titled, “Can These Parents Be Saved?”. It was authored by Nancy Gibbs, and she did a very commendable job. I recommend that you read her article, even though it probably doesn’t describe your parenting.
Nancy labeled these over-protective Moms and Dads - “Helicopter Parents”! I flew in a helicopter, as a passenger, recently, and her term for over-protective guardians is most descriptive. They “hover” over their kids! How did our culture wander so far off track in three generations? Parents should be role models and teachers - not micro managers of the human spirit.
Were my Great Depression cohorts short changed by our parents when we were in school during the 1920’s and 30’s? I don’t think so. They taught us by their example. They told us that “this is how it is.” Then, they told us that we were responsible for our conduct, and we would be held accountable for any fall downs. We understood this, and we accepted our parents challenge. I felt good having such responsibility. I wouldn’t do anything to embarrass them.
Even though I was very young, I took my responsibility as a good citizen seriously. I went alone - from Hillsdale to Chicago - a four hour train ride - when I was six years old. Can you picture today’s parent letting their eight year old son go door to door, in the dark of winter afternoons, selling magazines, as I did? I delivered the Hillsdale Daily News when I was 10 years old. I attended Boy Scout meetings at night alone. My Mother didn’t accompany me on Halloween. My friends did.
I was caught chewing gum in my sixth grade class. Our teacher, Miss May, was the Central School principal. I knew better, but I broke the rule. Miss May called me up to the front of her desk. I did as I was bid. She told me to take the gum out of my mouth and place it on the tip of my nose, which I did. Then, she said turn around and stand there until I tell you to go to your seat. Talk about embarrassment! I couldn’t look into the smiling faces of my classmates. I don’t remember how long my torture went on, but it was plenty long for Miss May to make her point!(I very seldom chewed gum after that.) I didn’t go home, crying, and blaming the teacher for my punishment. I knew that if I did, my Dad would back the teacher, and give me a whack for good measure! Today, the child’s mother would go to the School board and claim “child cruelty” and demand that “the teacher be fired for embarrassing their little Raymond.” I held no grudge. Miss May was one on my favorite teachers. I even corresponded with her after moving to Berea (Ohio) at the end of that school year in 1930.
I walked to and from school - including going home for lunch. I walked to Church on Sunday and to Catechism class on Saturday afternoon. Vans, and parent chauffeurs, didn’t exist. My Mother didn’t know how to drive. It didn’t matter, because we didn’t have a car.
I went to St. Mary’s Catholic school in Berea for my seventh and eighth grades. Now there was discipline. Sister Edith was the principal and my teacher. I never got in trouble. Not, because I was a “goody goody”, but because I was a fast learner! I knew the rules and boundaries, and I heeded them. I figured that ‘Life” was much simpler that way. There were a couple of instances that I was a by-stander to unacceptable conduct. My friend “Hoy” was the class clown. Sister apparently, didn’t think that he was as funny as we did. I don’t even remember what happened. But, she called Hoy up to her desk, and said, “Get me the biggest measuring stick that you can find. Hoy came back with a 12 inch ruler. Sister didn’t think it was as funny as we did. She repeated her command. This time Hoy apparently got the message, and brought back the yardstick which was stored in the cloak room. Sister said “Give me your hand. Hoy extended his arm. She grabbed his hand and wound up with the same motion. Then, on her down swing, Hoy pulled his hand from Sister’s grasp, and she hit her leg with the yardstick. I’m sure she didn’t even feel it with her large -hanging rosary and full-flowing black outfit breaking the blow. To say that Sister Edith was upset, was a big understatement, as we all were taking in the “punishment”. Then she took a wild swing at Hoy.
On another occasion, I was in the Boy’s Bathroom in the school basement. I could smell cigarette smoke when I opened the door. There was Sam standing at the urinal next to me. When I first met Sam, I thought that he was an “Eskimo”, but later learned that Sam was a Native American boy (We used the term “Indian” back then.) I think he was 18 years old, and still in the eighth grade! I remember his whiskers. While we both were standing there, I heard the bathroom door open. Then, I heard Sister’s large rosary clanking as she walked toward us. She grabbed Sam by the arm - while he was still in mid-stream - and marched him out of the bathroom. No words were spoken. I have often searched my memory for what happened afterwards, but each time, I draw a blank. Still, Sister Edith was my mentor and role model. I give her a lot of credit for molding my personality and philosophy of life. She was a loyal friend. We still corresponded ten years later, during the months I served in North Africa. Her letters, and prayers, not only boosted my spirit, but I am sure played a big part in my surviving 50 combat missions.
Sister Edith taught a group of 7th and 8th grade students to be altar boys. (alter girls hadn’t been invented back then,) She not only taught us our Latin responses to the priest, but also all of our serving routine. They say that “if the student hasn’t learned, the teacher hasn’t taught”. Sister taught and I learned. I looked forward to being assigned to serve weddings, because the groom usually tipped us. But, funerals were another story. I guess it wasn’t proper to tip altar boys for funerals - even though our duties were about the same. Too sad, I guess.
I remember how I sweated out report card time. I would bring my card home from school and debate which parent to ask to sign it - depending on their mood. Today - if they still have “Report Cards”, the parents probably grade their kids and their kids may sign off.! Today, I can’t imagine parents who protest the grades on their kid’s homework and special projects. The term “homework” in PRE-SCHOOL today, didn’t exist in my day. Our Mothers taught pre-school.
Today, parents are obsessed about their child’s safety and success. When I was in the seventh and eighth grades, during the summer months, I would put a peanut butter sandwich in my pocket in the morning, and roam all over town with my friends. Granted, it was a small town - population about 5,000. We weren’t into vandalizing, but to entertain ourselves. We would also take our bats, balls and gloves and challenge kids on the other side of town to a pick-up game. Afterwards, we would go “skinny-dipping” in an abandoned- sandstone quarry - 300 feet deep with COLD water. It’s a wonder we didn’t cramp up and drown! Swimming was fun. But, sometimes when we got out, our clothes were missing. Our “friends” snuck up and hid them. The heli- folks would freak out if this happened today - with no life guard. It wasn’t a case of my parents not being fearful for my safety, it was a case of not knowing where I was, or what I was doing. Apparently, they trusted my judgment - even at that tender age. I know that they cared.
Today, parents use the computer, TV and electronic games to entertain (and baby sit) their kids. What happened to Erector Sets, Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs and Lego toys?
I didn’t receive an allowance when I was growing up. If I wanted “spending” money, I was expected to earn it. Today’s parents must feel that if they don’t give their kids everything they want, they won’t love them. So be it. Let them work and earn their own money. They will appreciate the value of their spending more. Why contribute to a tobacco or drug habit? The world has enough problems!
I don’t want to leave the impression that I was self-raised. To the contrary. My sister Jeanne and brothers Bob and Jack got plenty of attention and TLC from our parents. They guided, and trained us, to be good citizens. They encouraged us to do our very best - that’s all they expected of us. “Over-achieving” wasn’t in their vocabulary. My parents never attended any of my high school sporting events, or my band concerts. I can’t remember whether they attended my high school graduation or not. But, they certainly were there for me during World war II. They came out from Ypsilanti to Victorville, when I graduated from Bombardiering School. They wrote to me often during the seven months that I was overseas.
During all of this dialogue, I don’t want to give the impression that I have been the perfect parent for my five daughters. For example:-
I always took my youngest daughter Sue with me when I got a haircut. The first thing that she would do in the barber shop was go to the magazine rack. She would pick up a copy of “Playboy”, sit on the floor, and start turning the pages. John (my barber) would go over and gently take it from her, and hand her a comic book in return. He hadn’t any more returned to his barbering chair, than Sue would put the Comic Book down and pick up the Playboy!
In closing this essay, I would like to quote from Nancy Gibb’s conclusion to her article - a quote that D.H. Lawrence made back in 1918 - the year of my birth! “How to educate a child. First Rule: leave him alone; Second Rule: leave him alone; Third Rule: Leave him alone; That is the whole beginning.” (Nancy goes on to say, “Of course, that was easy for him to say. He had no kids.”)
RCL - 11/28/09.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
GREAT EVENING
GREAT EVENING
Last Saturday evening (November 21, 2009) was one of the big highlights of the year for me. Eleven male members of our family had dinner together, here at Quail Creek. The original prompt was for we seven “Scorpios” to celebrate our birthdays together. Then, I thought it would be nice to include Brad - even though he is a Taurus. (He got in under the wire! A delay of Brad’s birth one more day, would have moved his astrological sign to a “Gemini” - the same as his Grandmother Marie). Not only would it be nice to see Brad, but he could join his Dad Rick, and Brother Doug, in the celebration of their birthdays.
Then, Brad asked if he could bring his boys Colton and Trenton. I hadn’t thought of that, and I am glad that he suggested it. Then, I thought, why not include the whole Maher clan! So, I told Doug that his sons were also welcome. Fortunately, after my late invitation, Jobey, Bailey and Dakota could make it. Tom, Greg and I rounded out the group.
I had reserved our small special dining room with David, the Dining Services Director. It worked out well. The eleven of us sat around the very large table. I am proud of my five great-grandsons. They were comfortable ordering from the large menu. Brad may have helped his son Colton(9) order salmon, and Bailey helped Trenton(7) order chicken tenders. Dakota(12) sat on my right, and he ordered lamb chops from the menu. Erika, a friend and co-worker of Katy’s, was our server. It was a It was labor intensive to take our orders and serve us, but she was very pleasant and helpful, and did a great job. She knows Tom and I so it wasn’t as stressful for her. When Dakota cut into his lamb chop, it was quite “bloody”, and he mentioned it to me. I told him to tell Erika and she would return it to the kitchen, and the chef would cook it some more. So he did. He told her, “I know that I ordered it “rare“, but this is bloody!” Erika did as she said she would, and Dakota was happy.
After a nice dinner and dessert, Greg asked if they would like a tour of the facility. They agreed. So, all eleven us walked around and saw the swimming pool and hot tub; (naturally, the great-grandsons were impressed), the ball room -dancing room, the fitness room (with all of it various exercising equipment);the billiard room; and the wood-working shop.
Then, I asked them if they would like to see where grandpa lives. Of course, they wanted to see my apartment - hardly large enough for all eleven of us to fit).It didn’t take long to tour my area. The way that they studied the photos( they were in many of them) and memorabilia, they must have thought that I lived in a museum.
They all left about eight o’clock, after a nice evening. I enjoyed their visit. I hated to see them go. I checked all of my closets to make sure there were no stowaways! I should have known better, after stuffing all of my “stuff” in them.
RCL - 11/24/09.
Last Saturday evening (November 21, 2009) was one of the big highlights of the year for me. Eleven male members of our family had dinner together, here at Quail Creek. The original prompt was for we seven “Scorpios” to celebrate our birthdays together. Then, I thought it would be nice to include Brad - even though he is a Taurus. (He got in under the wire! A delay of Brad’s birth one more day, would have moved his astrological sign to a “Gemini” - the same as his Grandmother Marie). Not only would it be nice to see Brad, but he could join his Dad Rick, and Brother Doug, in the celebration of their birthdays.
Then, Brad asked if he could bring his boys Colton and Trenton. I hadn’t thought of that, and I am glad that he suggested it. Then, I thought, why not include the whole Maher clan! So, I told Doug that his sons were also welcome. Fortunately, after my late invitation, Jobey, Bailey and Dakota could make it. Tom, Greg and I rounded out the group.
I had reserved our small special dining room with David, the Dining Services Director. It worked out well. The eleven of us sat around the very large table. I am proud of my five great-grandsons. They were comfortable ordering from the large menu. Brad may have helped his son Colton(9) order salmon, and Bailey helped Trenton(7) order chicken tenders. Dakota(12) sat on my right, and he ordered lamb chops from the menu. Erika, a friend and co-worker of Katy’s, was our server. It was a It was labor intensive to take our orders and serve us, but she was very pleasant and helpful, and did a great job. She knows Tom and I so it wasn’t as stressful for her. When Dakota cut into his lamb chop, it was quite “bloody”, and he mentioned it to me. I told him to tell Erika and she would return it to the kitchen, and the chef would cook it some more. So he did. He told her, “I know that I ordered it “rare“, but this is bloody!” Erika did as she said she would, and Dakota was happy.
After a nice dinner and dessert, Greg asked if they would like a tour of the facility. They agreed. So, all eleven us walked around and saw the swimming pool and hot tub; (naturally, the great-grandsons were impressed), the ball room -dancing room, the fitness room (with all of it various exercising equipment);the billiard room; and the wood-working shop.
Then, I asked them if they would like to see where grandpa lives. Of course, they wanted to see my apartment - hardly large enough for all eleven of us to fit).It didn’t take long to tour my area. The way that they studied the photos( they were in many of them) and memorabilia, they must have thought that I lived in a museum.
They all left about eight o’clock, after a nice evening. I enjoyed their visit. I hated to see them go. I checked all of my closets to make sure there were no stowaways! I should have known better, after stuffing all of my “stuff” in them.
RCL - 11/24/09.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
WEST POINT
WEST POINT
It is nice to start the day with a little bit of levity. At breakfast this morning, I was admiring my seatmate’s jacket. It was black, with gold circles on the cuffs. It was really spiffy. I hadn’t seen it before - in the year and eight months that I have been here at Quail Creek.
I asked Ray if it was new. He said “No, I got it in 1935 when I was at West Point!” I thought, how could a garment - almost 75 years old - look so nice? Then, I noticed the block- gold large “A” emblem on the left side of his jacket.. I asked him about that. Ray said that was for beating Navy! I told him that was the last time that Army beat Navy. He didn’t respond. I don’t think he heard me.
Our server was tuning in to all of this conversation. Rosie volunteered “I wasn’t even conceived by 1935”. I asked Ray about Army’s colors. He didn’t understand me, and turned to his wife, Jean, to interpret for him. She repeated what I had asked him, but he still didn’t comprehend. (He usually does a good job in reading her lips.) Then, I noticed that his hearing aid was barely hanging on to his left ear. So, I Googled “West Point colors”, and learned that Army’s colors are black and gold.
After breakfast, I was relating this little episode to one of our young servers, because I thought that she would be interested. Wrong! She wasn’t familiar with West Point. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. A sheltered life or generations gap? Or both!
Ray and Jean are my role models. They celebrated their 69th wedding Anniversary this month! (Yes, they were married in Seattle in 1940!) Jean was 19 and Ray 26 - my age, when Marie and I were married 65 years ago. We are short-timers! Needless to say, I enjoy their company very much.
I enjoyed playing bridge yesterday in the Community Center - Card Room. We had three tables - eight ladies and four men. I got fairly good cards for a change. In one round, my partner and I scored 650 points to our opponents 550. Yet, we didn’t play any of the six hands!
RCL - 11/24/09.
It is nice to start the day with a little bit of levity. At breakfast this morning, I was admiring my seatmate’s jacket. It was black, with gold circles on the cuffs. It was really spiffy. I hadn’t seen it before - in the year and eight months that I have been here at Quail Creek.
I asked Ray if it was new. He said “No, I got it in 1935 when I was at West Point!” I thought, how could a garment - almost 75 years old - look so nice? Then, I noticed the block- gold large “A” emblem on the left side of his jacket.. I asked him about that. Ray said that was for beating Navy! I told him that was the last time that Army beat Navy. He didn’t respond. I don’t think he heard me.
Our server was tuning in to all of this conversation. Rosie volunteered “I wasn’t even conceived by 1935”. I asked Ray about Army’s colors. He didn’t understand me, and turned to his wife, Jean, to interpret for him. She repeated what I had asked him, but he still didn’t comprehend. (He usually does a good job in reading her lips.) Then, I noticed that his hearing aid was barely hanging on to his left ear. So, I Googled “West Point colors”, and learned that Army’s colors are black and gold.
After breakfast, I was relating this little episode to one of our young servers, because I thought that she would be interested. Wrong! She wasn’t familiar with West Point. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. A sheltered life or generations gap? Or both!
Ray and Jean are my role models. They celebrated their 69th wedding Anniversary this month! (Yes, they were married in Seattle in 1940!) Jean was 19 and Ray 26 - my age, when Marie and I were married 65 years ago. We are short-timers! Needless to say, I enjoy their company very much.
I enjoyed playing bridge yesterday in the Community Center - Card Room. We had three tables - eight ladies and four men. I got fairly good cards for a change. In one round, my partner and I scored 650 points to our opponents 550. Yet, we didn’t play any of the six hands!
RCL - 11/24/09.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
THANKFUL
THANKFUL
Peggy Noonan, A Wall Street Journal essayist, wrote a provocative column in the November 21-22 issue of the Journal. (“Still Here After a Rough Year.”) She described responses, she received from friends - “for what are you thankful? The responses to her were varied and quite diverse. After reading her column, I started reflecting on my thankfulness. Only then, did I realize how much I took for granted!
---- I am thankful for reaching the age of 91, and in relatively good health. It has permitted me to spend time in support of my dementia tormented wife, and to reflect on 65 years of our happy marriage. While Marie’s quality of life is poor, she has made my life much richer. When I hold her warm hand, and kiss her soft-warm lips - many good memories flow. All is well.
---- I am thankful for my family. They have been very understanding and supportive. They are my most valuable asset!
---- I am thankful for my exposure to the Western National Parks and Monuments The great uplifting experience put me in touch with my spiritual being. My eyes and heart wee opened to forgotten beauty. I was so fortunate to be part of such a spiritual environment.
---- I am thankful that my mind can still recall so many emotions and memories from my long-ago past. I was able to re-live these experiences as I recalled them in writing my Blogs.
---- I am thankful to have been invited to participate in my oldest grand daughter’s wedding.
Have you reviewed your “gratitude” on this 389th Thanksgiving Day?
RCL - 11/22/09.
Peggy Noonan, A Wall Street Journal essayist, wrote a provocative column in the November 21-22 issue of the Journal. (“Still Here After a Rough Year.”) She described responses, she received from friends - “for what are you thankful? The responses to her were varied and quite diverse. After reading her column, I started reflecting on my thankfulness. Only then, did I realize how much I took for granted!
---- I am thankful for reaching the age of 91, and in relatively good health. It has permitted me to spend time in support of my dementia tormented wife, and to reflect on 65 years of our happy marriage. While Marie’s quality of life is poor, she has made my life much richer. When I hold her warm hand, and kiss her soft-warm lips - many good memories flow. All is well.
---- I am thankful for my family. They have been very understanding and supportive. They are my most valuable asset!
---- I am thankful for my exposure to the Western National Parks and Monuments The great uplifting experience put me in touch with my spiritual being. My eyes and heart wee opened to forgotten beauty. I was so fortunate to be part of such a spiritual environment.
---- I am thankful that my mind can still recall so many emotions and memories from my long-ago past. I was able to re-live these experiences as I recalled them in writing my Blogs.
---- I am thankful to have been invited to participate in my oldest grand daughter’s wedding.
Have you reviewed your “gratitude” on this 389th Thanksgiving Day?
RCL - 11/22/09.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
SULLY
SULLY
My daughter Mary, and her husband Greg, gave me “Sully ” Sullenberger’s new book (“Highest Duty”) for my birthday. You may think that I am being presumptuous, in using the famous pilot’s nickname. But, when you consider his first name is “Chesley”, it makes sense. I didn’t realize that he had written a book (in conjunction with Jeffrey Zaslow). My first thought was, “another famous person getting on the bandwagon, and writing a book. (See Sarah Palin’s “Going Rogue”.) These days, it’s just a foregone conclusion. Too, there’s no equivalent to the exposure that one gets on Oprah’s Show. (Can the movies be far behind?).
I started to read Sully’s book, and it was so interesting, that I have a hard time putting it down. I am really impressed. It is very well written. (I am not sure whose words they are). Too, I can relate to a lot of Sully’s descriptions of his experiences and emotions. I am wondering why, when there is a 33 year -age difference between us. His Dad, and I, are cohorts! A lot of my identification with Sully’s writing can be explained, because we were both former military pilots. I can relate to a lot of his flying emotions and experiences - even though I had only a small percentage of his nearly 20,000 flying hours. We both have been exposed to similar theory of flight, and emergency procedures. I relate, too, to his life experiences - not because “I’ve been there - done that”, but because we both have been exposed to similar life experiences. After reading the book, I would classify Sully as a complicated and dedicated person, and a very skilled flyer.
I can still remember an event I had in the Army Air Corps - as if it had happened yesterday - rather than 65 years ago. We were flying dual, during my Primary flight training. I was fortunate to have John Langdon, as my instructor, riding in the rear seat. John had seen, and done it all. He was older - or a synonym - “more experienced.” John had flown the U.S. Mail. He had crop dusted. He had barn stormed with Tex Rankin (picked up a handkerchief from the ground - flying upside down - with a hook imbedded at the top of the vertical stabilizer! Now, that is about as skillful as you can fly - even compared to the precision formation -flying of the “Blue Angels”.)
One day we were flying near Rankin Field in the Tulare area. At about 3,000 feet, John, from his rear seat, chopped the throttle, and I lost the power of the engine. This was a common practice of Instructors, and it was a “signal” for me to start looking for the best place to put the Stearman down. In a simulated forced landing. I would pick the flattest - largest- field, free of obstacles like high voltage- power lines. Then, I would try and determine the direction of the wind ( from blowing smoke or such), and then set up my approach and landing plans. Remember, this is “dead stick” - no engine power. The prop is barely wind milling. It is very quiet. I am descending about 300 feet per minute to maintain our flying speed above “stalling”. All the time, I was very observant for other aircraft and obstacles in the vicinity, while descending. In his book, Sully calls it “situational awareness”. A lot of judgment is involved in knowing your altitude, by checking your altimeter, so that you can dissipate the height through your “downwind,” “base” and “final approach” legs.” You don’t want to land “long”, or “short” of the field. When I was about to touch down, John would advance the throttle, and the Lycoming radial engine would roar to life, once again. I was air-born, in a slow climb. Needless to say, the adrenalin was really flowing as if it were the real thing. I still remember John’s counseling, as I climbed out from the open field. John told me, through our inter-com tube, “Never stretch a glide! Maintain your flying speed, even if you have to plough into a stone wall. You will have a better chance for survival, than if you pull back on the stick to fly over the wall, and stall the aircraft. In a stall. You will head into the ground nose first (This is why we practiced “stalls” at higher altitudes. So, that we would recognize the feel of the “sloppy’ stick during the stall, and initial recovery.) Fortunately, I never had to apply John’s admonition. But, if I had, I know that I’d been prepared for the best outcome. This is why I remember John’s words, back in 1944, to this day. Again, “situational awareness.” I remembered my “dead stick“- landing training, when I heard about Captain Sullenberger landing his powerless Air Bus in the Hudson River, on January 15, 2009. His US Airways airliner hit a flock of geese shortly after the First Officer took-off from La Guardia. While my dead-stick landing -training and Sully’s water landing were far from being the same, the technique employed was similar, and there was his emotion, during the let-down, that I could relate to.
So much of Sully’s life seemed to parallel a lot of mine, even with our age difference. I could relate to his thoughts, sights and emotions. He and his wife Lorrie adopted two girls. I could even relate to this event. Marie and I didn’t have our first child until nearly seven years after we were married. In the meantime, we had given up on “coupling,” and placed our “request to adopt” with the “Children’s Home” in Oakland. The year was 1950. They accepted our request, and made visits to our home in Antioch. (I was working for U.S. Steel, as an Industrial Engineer, at the time). The Home’s approval of our adoption request seemed imminent. But, when the Home’s representative learned, during one of her visits to our home in the spring of 1951, that I had been recalled by the Air Force, as a pilot, during the Korean War, she “nixed” our adoption. She said that, “The Home couldn’t place a child in a potentially fatherless home!”. We were both very devastated by the bad news. At that very time, Marie was experiencing an upset stomach. We both thought that she was coming down with the flu. A friend of ours said, “Marie, do you think that you might be pregnant?” Our friend was very prophetic. Marie found out later, that she was indeed pregnant with Anne.
Back to Sully. Our backgrounds differ in that his Dad was a very good self-taught carpenter. He even built their home - with the help of his wife, daughter and Sully. My Dad didn’t have those same “hammer” skills so I never learned them . But, my Mother was good with the tool. Our daughter Mary is “hammer wise”, too. She must have inherited my Mother’s “hammer” genes.
Sully grew up in Texas, which is a long way from Michigan and Ohio, where I grew up. Still, we had similar experiences growing up. His parents instilled responsibility and accountability in Sully as my parents did in me. Sully’s parents gave him a rifle at a young age. They taught him gun safety and responsibility for his actions. My parents let me work at a very young age - 9 or 10 years old - selling magazines, door to door. In the winter, I would be delivering magazines in the dark. (This was before Daylight Saving Time.) In the summer, I would put a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my pocket, and be gone all day. We would play a pickup game of baseball with kids on the other side of town, “skinny dip” in the deep, cold water in an abandoned sandstone quarry, in Berea, Ohio, or, we would just hang out at each others’ houses. (Our Mom’s were all home in those days.)
Sully spoke of “hazing” at the Air University, before he graduated. I could relate to that, having gone through the Aviation Cadet program twice during WWII - once for bombardier training and once for pilot training.
The author mentioned that his first airplane ride was out of Dallas in a Convair 440. This is an improved model of the military version, the T-29 - a twin-engine turbo prop. I flew this airplane out of Mather Field for two years, during the Korean War. It was easy to fly, and very forgiving of pilot errors.
Sully also mentioned a few times in his book that the flying schedule of an airline pilot is not conducive to a normal family relationship. As a pilot you are gone a lot. Sully mentioned being gone for four days flying different legs on the East Coast. Too, he was commuting to his hub in Charlotte, from San Francisco.
I can verify his conundrum of trying to balance career and family life. While flying out of Mather field, I was gone just a couple of nights. Because of the heavy tule fog in the Sacramento area, the base was closed to air traffic. One time, they diverted me to Travis, and another time to Merced AFB. Just being gone was very traumatic for Anne - a year old. When I did return home she would cry! - a “stranger” in the house! So, when my 21 month recall was over, I wanted to stay in the Air Force as a career - primarily, because I enjoyed flying. (And the pay was good). But, Anne’s pediatrician suggested that I leave the Service because such a life was too traumatic for our daughter. His suggestion was enough for me to resign my commission and return to civilian life. I complained later to Marie about my decision. She told me that I made a good decision. If I had signed on for an extension of my active duty, I would have gone to Korea and been “killed in action”. She was probably right. I no longer second guessed my decision. I had peace of mind.
“Highest Duty” really illustrates how one person can make a difference. The book also depicts how many lives Sully touched. My parents apparently instilled his same philosophy of life in me. I have tried to live by the very same credo, I truly believe that it is our duty to use our God-given talents, and ingenuity, and make our best effort to help our fellow man, in order to help make the world a better place than it was, when we entered.
I have flown in a few flights on US Airways and PSA (absorbed by US Airways). I wonder if Sully piloted any of those flights?
I heartily recommend your reading “Highest Duty”. Parts of your life, and philosophy, will resonate with Sully’s, I’m sure. Your spirit will be lifted up, and you will never look at “Life” the same way again!
RCL - 11/20/09.
My daughter Mary, and her husband Greg, gave me “Sully ” Sullenberger’s new book (“Highest Duty”) for my birthday. You may think that I am being presumptuous, in using the famous pilot’s nickname. But, when you consider his first name is “Chesley”, it makes sense. I didn’t realize that he had written a book (in conjunction with Jeffrey Zaslow). My first thought was, “another famous person getting on the bandwagon, and writing a book. (See Sarah Palin’s “Going Rogue”.) These days, it’s just a foregone conclusion. Too, there’s no equivalent to the exposure that one gets on Oprah’s Show. (Can the movies be far behind?).
I started to read Sully’s book, and it was so interesting, that I have a hard time putting it down. I am really impressed. It is very well written. (I am not sure whose words they are). Too, I can relate to a lot of Sully’s descriptions of his experiences and emotions. I am wondering why, when there is a 33 year -age difference between us. His Dad, and I, are cohorts! A lot of my identification with Sully’s writing can be explained, because we were both former military pilots. I can relate to a lot of his flying emotions and experiences - even though I had only a small percentage of his nearly 20,000 flying hours. We both have been exposed to similar theory of flight, and emergency procedures. I relate, too, to his life experiences - not because “I’ve been there - done that”, but because we both have been exposed to similar life experiences. After reading the book, I would classify Sully as a complicated and dedicated person, and a very skilled flyer.
I can still remember an event I had in the Army Air Corps - as if it had happened yesterday - rather than 65 years ago. We were flying dual, during my Primary flight training. I was fortunate to have John Langdon, as my instructor, riding in the rear seat. John had seen, and done it all. He was older - or a synonym - “more experienced.” John had flown the U.S. Mail. He had crop dusted. He had barn stormed with Tex Rankin (picked up a handkerchief from the ground - flying upside down - with a hook imbedded at the top of the vertical stabilizer! Now, that is about as skillful as you can fly - even compared to the precision formation -flying of the “Blue Angels”.)
One day we were flying near Rankin Field in the Tulare area. At about 3,000 feet, John, from his rear seat, chopped the throttle, and I lost the power of the engine. This was a common practice of Instructors, and it was a “signal” for me to start looking for the best place to put the Stearman down. In a simulated forced landing. I would pick the flattest - largest- field, free of obstacles like high voltage- power lines. Then, I would try and determine the direction of the wind ( from blowing smoke or such), and then set up my approach and landing plans. Remember, this is “dead stick” - no engine power. The prop is barely wind milling. It is very quiet. I am descending about 300 feet per minute to maintain our flying speed above “stalling”. All the time, I was very observant for other aircraft and obstacles in the vicinity, while descending. In his book, Sully calls it “situational awareness”. A lot of judgment is involved in knowing your altitude, by checking your altimeter, so that you can dissipate the height through your “downwind,” “base” and “final approach” legs.” You don’t want to land “long”, or “short” of the field. When I was about to touch down, John would advance the throttle, and the Lycoming radial engine would roar to life, once again. I was air-born, in a slow climb. Needless to say, the adrenalin was really flowing as if it were the real thing. I still remember John’s counseling, as I climbed out from the open field. John told me, through our inter-com tube, “Never stretch a glide! Maintain your flying speed, even if you have to plough into a stone wall. You will have a better chance for survival, than if you pull back on the stick to fly over the wall, and stall the aircraft. In a stall. You will head into the ground nose first (This is why we practiced “stalls” at higher altitudes. So, that we would recognize the feel of the “sloppy’ stick during the stall, and initial recovery.) Fortunately, I never had to apply John’s admonition. But, if I had, I know that I’d been prepared for the best outcome. This is why I remember John’s words, back in 1944, to this day. Again, “situational awareness.” I remembered my “dead stick“- landing training, when I heard about Captain Sullenberger landing his powerless Air Bus in the Hudson River, on January 15, 2009. His US Airways airliner hit a flock of geese shortly after the First Officer took-off from La Guardia. While my dead-stick landing -training and Sully’s water landing were far from being the same, the technique employed was similar, and there was his emotion, during the let-down, that I could relate to.
So much of Sully’s life seemed to parallel a lot of mine, even with our age difference. I could relate to his thoughts, sights and emotions. He and his wife Lorrie adopted two girls. I could even relate to this event. Marie and I didn’t have our first child until nearly seven years after we were married. In the meantime, we had given up on “coupling,” and placed our “request to adopt” with the “Children’s Home” in Oakland. The year was 1950. They accepted our request, and made visits to our home in Antioch. (I was working for U.S. Steel, as an Industrial Engineer, at the time). The Home’s approval of our adoption request seemed imminent. But, when the Home’s representative learned, during one of her visits to our home in the spring of 1951, that I had been recalled by the Air Force, as a pilot, during the Korean War, she “nixed” our adoption. She said that, “The Home couldn’t place a child in a potentially fatherless home!”. We were both very devastated by the bad news. At that very time, Marie was experiencing an upset stomach. We both thought that she was coming down with the flu. A friend of ours said, “Marie, do you think that you might be pregnant?” Our friend was very prophetic. Marie found out later, that she was indeed pregnant with Anne.
Back to Sully. Our backgrounds differ in that his Dad was a very good self-taught carpenter. He even built their home - with the help of his wife, daughter and Sully. My Dad didn’t have those same “hammer” skills so I never learned them . But, my Mother was good with the tool. Our daughter Mary is “hammer wise”, too. She must have inherited my Mother’s “hammer” genes.
Sully grew up in Texas, which is a long way from Michigan and Ohio, where I grew up. Still, we had similar experiences growing up. His parents instilled responsibility and accountability in Sully as my parents did in me. Sully’s parents gave him a rifle at a young age. They taught him gun safety and responsibility for his actions. My parents let me work at a very young age - 9 or 10 years old - selling magazines, door to door. In the winter, I would be delivering magazines in the dark. (This was before Daylight Saving Time.) In the summer, I would put a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my pocket, and be gone all day. We would play a pickup game of baseball with kids on the other side of town, “skinny dip” in the deep, cold water in an abandoned sandstone quarry, in Berea, Ohio, or, we would just hang out at each others’ houses. (Our Mom’s were all home in those days.)
Sully spoke of “hazing” at the Air University, before he graduated. I could relate to that, having gone through the Aviation Cadet program twice during WWII - once for bombardier training and once for pilot training.
The author mentioned that his first airplane ride was out of Dallas in a Convair 440. This is an improved model of the military version, the T-29 - a twin-engine turbo prop. I flew this airplane out of Mather Field for two years, during the Korean War. It was easy to fly, and very forgiving of pilot errors.
Sully also mentioned a few times in his book that the flying schedule of an airline pilot is not conducive to a normal family relationship. As a pilot you are gone a lot. Sully mentioned being gone for four days flying different legs on the East Coast. Too, he was commuting to his hub in Charlotte, from San Francisco.
I can verify his conundrum of trying to balance career and family life. While flying out of Mather field, I was gone just a couple of nights. Because of the heavy tule fog in the Sacramento area, the base was closed to air traffic. One time, they diverted me to Travis, and another time to Merced AFB. Just being gone was very traumatic for Anne - a year old. When I did return home she would cry! - a “stranger” in the house! So, when my 21 month recall was over, I wanted to stay in the Air Force as a career - primarily, because I enjoyed flying. (And the pay was good). But, Anne’s pediatrician suggested that I leave the Service because such a life was too traumatic for our daughter. His suggestion was enough for me to resign my commission and return to civilian life. I complained later to Marie about my decision. She told me that I made a good decision. If I had signed on for an extension of my active duty, I would have gone to Korea and been “killed in action”. She was probably right. I no longer second guessed my decision. I had peace of mind.
“Highest Duty” really illustrates how one person can make a difference. The book also depicts how many lives Sully touched. My parents apparently instilled his same philosophy of life in me. I have tried to live by the very same credo, I truly believe that it is our duty to use our God-given talents, and ingenuity, and make our best effort to help our fellow man, in order to help make the world a better place than it was, when we entered.
I have flown in a few flights on US Airways and PSA (absorbed by US Airways). I wonder if Sully piloted any of those flights?
I heartily recommend your reading “Highest Duty”. Parts of your life, and philosophy, will resonate with Sully’s, I’m sure. Your spirit will be lifted up, and you will never look at “Life” the same way again!
RCL - 11/20/09.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
SHORT SUBJECTS
SHORT SUBJECTS
Well, our six week- extended schedule for Bocce Ball is over. I am already looking forward to next Spring, when we are due to start up again. I really enjoyed the game. I not only learned a new sport (sort of ), but I met a lot of nice people, that I wouldn’t otherwise have known.
I played bridge yesterday, We had a good turnout - four tables. I got better cards and bid, and played them, fairly well. Virginia (our Leader) gave me my $1 entrance fee from a previous session. This was one of the prizes - one you don’t want to get. It was for “Low” score!
Mary took me to Target recently to make my annual Christmas card run. That was a start. You say that I am “early”? This project is labor intensive - as you all know. With about 120 names on my list, the project is overwhelming. So. In the interest of good “time management” (it’s a good thing that I am retired) I have started the process early, and have broken it down to “stages” - Write Christmas Letter; Address envelopes; Sign cards; Stuff envelopes with cards, and letter, and seal; Stamp and “address label” cards; sort into “Local” and “Out of town”, and Mail.
So, when I spread these tasks over the next month - a little each day - it will be manageable and I won’t have that “Holiday Blues” feeling and can relax and enjoy the Season. I hope that you will, too.
RCL - 11/19/09.
Well, our six week- extended schedule for Bocce Ball is over. I am already looking forward to next Spring, when we are due to start up again. I really enjoyed the game. I not only learned a new sport (sort of ), but I met a lot of nice people, that I wouldn’t otherwise have known.
I played bridge yesterday, We had a good turnout - four tables. I got better cards and bid, and played them, fairly well. Virginia (our Leader) gave me my $1 entrance fee from a previous session. This was one of the prizes - one you don’t want to get. It was for “Low” score!
Mary took me to Target recently to make my annual Christmas card run. That was a start. You say that I am “early”? This project is labor intensive - as you all know. With about 120 names on my list, the project is overwhelming. So. In the interest of good “time management” (it’s a good thing that I am retired) I have started the process early, and have broken it down to “stages” - Write Christmas Letter; Address envelopes; Sign cards; Stuff envelopes with cards, and letter, and seal; Stamp and “address label” cards; sort into “Local” and “Out of town”, and Mail.
So, when I spread these tasks over the next month - a little each day - it will be manageable and I won’t have that “Holiday Blues” feeling and can relax and enjoy the Season. I hope that you will, too.
RCL - 11/19/09.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
VETERANS' DAY
ARMISTICE DAY!
Today is “Veterans Day.” It is an off-shoot from “Armistice Day.” The first such Armistice Day, was on November 11, 1918. The day was also known as “Remembrance Day” The day was very significant! Not because I was born on that day, but because it commemorated the signing of the document calling for the halt of all fighting between the Allies (the U.S., France; Great Britain; Canada and other friendly countries) and Germany - the Western Front. The “Armistice” was signed at 11 A.M. (Paris time) “the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month”, in Compiegne, France, ending World war I. I was born 20 minutes later (0620 local time)) in Hillsdale, Michigan.
Armistice Day was re-named “Veterans Day on November 8, 1954.
Today, my family treated me to a day in San Francisco for my 91st birthday. Sue picked me up here at Quail Creek at 8;15, and drove over to Mary’s where we met Mary, Joan, Manny and Brittney. Mary drove her car, and Manny his to Vallejo. We got to the Ferry building about 9 o’clock. This meant an hour wait before our scheduled 10 o’clock departure. By the time they purchased the tickets, and grabbed a mini-breakfast at the café’, it was time to line up to board.
Baylink Ferries has four vessels - “Vallejo”; “Mare Island”, “Intintoli”, and “Solano”. (Our boat was the “Solano”). “Vallejo” was the first boat in the fleet, purchased about 20 years ago. It is much smaller and slower than the other three. It was a case of the old Army game, “Hurry up and wait”. Instead of leaving on -time, the Captain delayed departure for five minutes - to allow “always- late runners” to board. Their time was more important than ours. I was grousing, and Joan commented “Dad, what if that were you running?’ Good point! But, I could never picture that happening. (I missed a plane connection once on a business trip. I promised myself that it would never happen again!) The Captain reversed the engines at 10:05 and we started to back out of the slip.
We headed South down the Mare Island Channel. We poked along, at 5mph for ten minutes, to prevent bank erosion from the wake at a faster speed. The threat of shoreline damage wouldn’t be so critical if there weren’t homes and industrial development at the waters edge. We passed the former Sperry Flour Mill. A developer had planned on converting the building to apartment units, but I think that his project has stalled, due to the slow -down in the economy.
As we reach the mouth of the channel, the Captain “pours on the coal”. Soon, the catamaran vessel’s hulls are on the step, and we are barreling along at about 34 knots (40 mph). The water is calm, and provides a smooth ride. It was cool and overcast when we left, but the weather is improving as we move southbound. We pass Angel Island, and I can see Mt. Tamalpaius in the background. We pass under the Richmond -San Rafael Bridge, and soon I can see the outline of the Golden Gate Bridge off to the right.
We pulled in to the Ferry Building dock at 11:03. While waiting, during our 10 minute stop, I checked out the skyline in front of me. I saw the U.S. Bank building. I worked on the 19th floor there for 14 years, before retiring from California and Hawaiian Sugar Company (C & H Sugar Co.) To the right was the four Embarcadero buildings. Across from the Ferry Building - and next to the Bank building was the Hyatt Regency Hotel - with the revolving restaurant on top. A little beyond was the unique design of the Transamerica Building (the Pyramid). I last saw it on my thrilling helicopter ride six weeks ago. I saw a lot of these buildings being constructed, from my office window. Very distracting!
We backed out of the dock at 11:13 and headed northwest along the picturesque waterfront. The piers were empty - no cruise ships or military vessels docked. A 17 minute ride and we pulled in to Pier 41 at 11:30.
Joan had made reservations at Scoma’s for 12:15. So we slowly started our four block walk to the restaurant, The scenery on the streets in the area are not only very interesting, but some are real attention grabbers! For example: We walked by a guy sitting with a beer stein in front of him. His hand printed sign said “I won’t lie, I need a beer”. Not too far beyond him was another guy - smiling and younger. He was standing holding his sign for all to see - “I’m bored. My nuts itch. I need a shower. Please help.” His “collection container” was at his feet.
We passed Boudin Bakery. This is a landmark at Fisherman’s Wharf. It has been here for as long as I can remember (65 years!). The bakery is known for it’s Sour Dough French Bread. The bakery was opened in 1849 by Isidore Boudin, whose family came from France, as did mine - on my Dad’s side. Mary and I were wondering if Boudin still had to use the original sour dough -starter. Mary checked it out at Wikipedia and found our answer: The bakery still uses the same yeast-bacteria culture it developed during the California Gold Rush of 1849. If you haven’t tasted their delicious French Bread, it should be on your “to-do” list. Your experience will be well worth the trip to San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf.
My sister Jeanne, and husband Bob, would visit us quite often in Vallejo. When I asked them what they would like to do, it was always “Fisherman’s Wharf and Ghirardelli Square.” At Fisherman’s Wharf, we would head for the Baudin Bakery. There, Bob would get his clam chowder “fix”. I think the novel hollowed-out loaf of French bread, filled with soup, was what he liked. Afterwards, we would head over to Ghirardelli Square for Jeanne to have her hot fudge sundae, at the Ghirardelli Soda Fountain & Chocolate Shop. Of course Marie and I enjoyed their “favorites” along with them.
In 1893, Domingo Ghirardelli bought the city block to make it into a headquarters for his chocolate company. In the early 60’s, Golden Grain Macaroni bought the complex, and moved the candy company’s headquarters to another location, and sold the property. The property was developed into a center of retail shops and restaurants. It opened as Ghirardelli Square in 1964. There have been many changes since, and Jeanne and Bob (nor we) would recognize the area. It is listed on the National Register of Historical Places.
Back to Wednesday. We continued walking past the large vats boiling crab on the corner, and past many fishing boats docked below the sidewalk. Scoma’s has it’s own street, and sits way in the back adjacent to the water on Pier 47. If you didn’t know that it was there, you would miss it. I had been there a couple of times before. They were very nice experiences. This is why I wanted to return. At the end of our very nice lunch, our personable waiter brought us dessert. In my piece of the chocolate tart was a lone lighted candle. He led the singing of “Happy Birthday” to me. I experienced a very warm feeling. I had no trouble blowing out the candle.
Later, I was reading Scoma’s brochure. It described their Fish Receiving Station. I wish that we had known about it. The write-up sounded interesting. I would have liked to have seen the Station. Maybe next time!
A slow stroll back to Pier 41. The biggest attractions were a fellow (Stephen Dreyfuss) playing his alto saxophone and singing. He was quite good. So good, that Mary and Joan bought his CD’s. Just beyond him, was the “Skeleton Man.” He looked grotesque in his spooky outfit. Many would tip him, and then pose with him in many different configurations - while friends and/or family snapped their pictures with camera phones.
We had a little time before our ferry arrived. Some of us sat watching people feed the gulls and pigeons. Others walked over to Pier 39 to see the lounging seals, lying on their floating platform. There were more of them than usual, and their over-crowding is presenting a “thinning” problem.
Our “Intintoli” ferry came in around three o’clock, and we loaded and left the Pier at 3:12. A ten minute run down to the Ferry Building where we picked up some early commuters. We backed away from the dock at 3:32. The Captain spun the boat around on a dime, with the boats side thrusters, and we headed North to Vallejo.
We got a good view of the new East Span that they are constructing next to the Bay Bridge. Then, a good view of Treasure Island. It was man-made - especially for the Golden Gate Expositions of 1939 and 1940. I took a trip out from Ypsilanti, to see the Fair in the summer of 1940, and I was really impressed. I spent a week in San Francisco, spending all of my time at the Fair. I stayed at the YMCA Hotel on Turk Street, and as I remember, I paid 50 cents a day! I walked back and forth to the Ferry building to catch the ferry. It ran from the Ferry Building the short distance, (probably a couple miles), over to Treasure Island. The price of the ferry included the admission to the Fair, I can’t remember the amount - probably 50 cents.
There was another small group on our return trip on the ferry. They were celebrating an older lady’s 90th birthday. So, I wished her a “Happy Birthday”. We both flashed our nonagenarian smiles (“Been there, done that”.) As the ferry was about to enter the Mare Island Channel, I could see the C & H Sugar Refinery below the Carquinez Bridges, at Crockett. I spent seven years there, working in the Methods and Standards Department.
As we started to slow down I spotted the Maritime Academy’s training ship - the Golden Bear - off to the right.
We tied up at the Vallejo dock at 4:30 - right on time! What a glorious day! What a day to celebrate my 91st birthday! RCL - 11/13/06.
Today is “Veterans Day.” It is an off-shoot from “Armistice Day.” The first such Armistice Day, was on November 11, 1918. The day was also known as “Remembrance Day” The day was very significant! Not because I was born on that day, but because it commemorated the signing of the document calling for the halt of all fighting between the Allies (the U.S., France; Great Britain; Canada and other friendly countries) and Germany - the Western Front. The “Armistice” was signed at 11 A.M. (Paris time) “the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month”, in Compiegne, France, ending World war I. I was born 20 minutes later (0620 local time)) in Hillsdale, Michigan.
Armistice Day was re-named “Veterans Day on November 8, 1954.
Today, my family treated me to a day in San Francisco for my 91st birthday. Sue picked me up here at Quail Creek at 8;15, and drove over to Mary’s where we met Mary, Joan, Manny and Brittney. Mary drove her car, and Manny his to Vallejo. We got to the Ferry building about 9 o’clock. This meant an hour wait before our scheduled 10 o’clock departure. By the time they purchased the tickets, and grabbed a mini-breakfast at the café’, it was time to line up to board.
Baylink Ferries has four vessels - “Vallejo”; “Mare Island”, “Intintoli”, and “Solano”. (Our boat was the “Solano”). “Vallejo” was the first boat in the fleet, purchased about 20 years ago. It is much smaller and slower than the other three. It was a case of the old Army game, “Hurry up and wait”. Instead of leaving on -time, the Captain delayed departure for five minutes - to allow “always- late runners” to board. Their time was more important than ours. I was grousing, and Joan commented “Dad, what if that were you running?’ Good point! But, I could never picture that happening. (I missed a plane connection once on a business trip. I promised myself that it would never happen again!) The Captain reversed the engines at 10:05 and we started to back out of the slip.
We headed South down the Mare Island Channel. We poked along, at 5mph for ten minutes, to prevent bank erosion from the wake at a faster speed. The threat of shoreline damage wouldn’t be so critical if there weren’t homes and industrial development at the waters edge. We passed the former Sperry Flour Mill. A developer had planned on converting the building to apartment units, but I think that his project has stalled, due to the slow -down in the economy.
As we reach the mouth of the channel, the Captain “pours on the coal”. Soon, the catamaran vessel’s hulls are on the step, and we are barreling along at about 34 knots (40 mph). The water is calm, and provides a smooth ride. It was cool and overcast when we left, but the weather is improving as we move southbound. We pass Angel Island, and I can see Mt. Tamalpaius in the background. We pass under the Richmond -San Rafael Bridge, and soon I can see the outline of the Golden Gate Bridge off to the right.
We pulled in to the Ferry Building dock at 11:03. While waiting, during our 10 minute stop, I checked out the skyline in front of me. I saw the U.S. Bank building. I worked on the 19th floor there for 14 years, before retiring from California and Hawaiian Sugar Company (C & H Sugar Co.) To the right was the four Embarcadero buildings. Across from the Ferry Building - and next to the Bank building was the Hyatt Regency Hotel - with the revolving restaurant on top. A little beyond was the unique design of the Transamerica Building (the Pyramid). I last saw it on my thrilling helicopter ride six weeks ago. I saw a lot of these buildings being constructed, from my office window. Very distracting!
We backed out of the dock at 11:13 and headed northwest along the picturesque waterfront. The piers were empty - no cruise ships or military vessels docked. A 17 minute ride and we pulled in to Pier 41 at 11:30.
Joan had made reservations at Scoma’s for 12:15. So we slowly started our four block walk to the restaurant, The scenery on the streets in the area are not only very interesting, but some are real attention grabbers! For example: We walked by a guy sitting with a beer stein in front of him. His hand printed sign said “I won’t lie, I need a beer”. Not too far beyond him was another guy - smiling and younger. He was standing holding his sign for all to see - “I’m bored. My nuts itch. I need a shower. Please help.” His “collection container” was at his feet.
We passed Boudin Bakery. This is a landmark at Fisherman’s Wharf. It has been here for as long as I can remember (65 years!). The bakery is known for it’s Sour Dough French Bread. The bakery was opened in 1849 by Isidore Boudin, whose family came from France, as did mine - on my Dad’s side. Mary and I were wondering if Boudin still had to use the original sour dough -starter. Mary checked it out at Wikipedia and found our answer: The bakery still uses the same yeast-bacteria culture it developed during the California Gold Rush of 1849. If you haven’t tasted their delicious French Bread, it should be on your “to-do” list. Your experience will be well worth the trip to San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf.
My sister Jeanne, and husband Bob, would visit us quite often in Vallejo. When I asked them what they would like to do, it was always “Fisherman’s Wharf and Ghirardelli Square.” At Fisherman’s Wharf, we would head for the Baudin Bakery. There, Bob would get his clam chowder “fix”. I think the novel hollowed-out loaf of French bread, filled with soup, was what he liked. Afterwards, we would head over to Ghirardelli Square for Jeanne to have her hot fudge sundae, at the Ghirardelli Soda Fountain & Chocolate Shop. Of course Marie and I enjoyed their “favorites” along with them.
In 1893, Domingo Ghirardelli bought the city block to make it into a headquarters for his chocolate company. In the early 60’s, Golden Grain Macaroni bought the complex, and moved the candy company’s headquarters to another location, and sold the property. The property was developed into a center of retail shops and restaurants. It opened as Ghirardelli Square in 1964. There have been many changes since, and Jeanne and Bob (nor we) would recognize the area. It is listed on the National Register of Historical Places.
Back to Wednesday. We continued walking past the large vats boiling crab on the corner, and past many fishing boats docked below the sidewalk. Scoma’s has it’s own street, and sits way in the back adjacent to the water on Pier 47. If you didn’t know that it was there, you would miss it. I had been there a couple of times before. They were very nice experiences. This is why I wanted to return. At the end of our very nice lunch, our personable waiter brought us dessert. In my piece of the chocolate tart was a lone lighted candle. He led the singing of “Happy Birthday” to me. I experienced a very warm feeling. I had no trouble blowing out the candle.
Later, I was reading Scoma’s brochure. It described their Fish Receiving Station. I wish that we had known about it. The write-up sounded interesting. I would have liked to have seen the Station. Maybe next time!
A slow stroll back to Pier 41. The biggest attractions were a fellow (Stephen Dreyfuss) playing his alto saxophone and singing. He was quite good. So good, that Mary and Joan bought his CD’s. Just beyond him, was the “Skeleton Man.” He looked grotesque in his spooky outfit. Many would tip him, and then pose with him in many different configurations - while friends and/or family snapped their pictures with camera phones.
We had a little time before our ferry arrived. Some of us sat watching people feed the gulls and pigeons. Others walked over to Pier 39 to see the lounging seals, lying on their floating platform. There were more of them than usual, and their over-crowding is presenting a “thinning” problem.
Our “Intintoli” ferry came in around three o’clock, and we loaded and left the Pier at 3:12. A ten minute run down to the Ferry Building where we picked up some early commuters. We backed away from the dock at 3:32. The Captain spun the boat around on a dime, with the boats side thrusters, and we headed North to Vallejo.
We got a good view of the new East Span that they are constructing next to the Bay Bridge. Then, a good view of Treasure Island. It was man-made - especially for the Golden Gate Expositions of 1939 and 1940. I took a trip out from Ypsilanti, to see the Fair in the summer of 1940, and I was really impressed. I spent a week in San Francisco, spending all of my time at the Fair. I stayed at the YMCA Hotel on Turk Street, and as I remember, I paid 50 cents a day! I walked back and forth to the Ferry building to catch the ferry. It ran from the Ferry Building the short distance, (probably a couple miles), over to Treasure Island. The price of the ferry included the admission to the Fair, I can’t remember the amount - probably 50 cents.
There was another small group on our return trip on the ferry. They were celebrating an older lady’s 90th birthday. So, I wished her a “Happy Birthday”. We both flashed our nonagenarian smiles (“Been there, done that”.) As the ferry was about to enter the Mare Island Channel, I could see the C & H Sugar Refinery below the Carquinez Bridges, at Crockett. I spent seven years there, working in the Methods and Standards Department.
As we started to slow down I spotted the Maritime Academy’s training ship - the Golden Bear - off to the right.
We tied up at the Vallejo dock at 4:30 - right on time! What a glorious day! What a day to celebrate my 91st birthday! RCL - 11/13/06.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
RHUBARB PIE
RHUBARB PIE
Strawberry-Rhubarb pie was on the menu for dessert this noon. While I didn’t have any, (I will have it for dinner - if there is any left), I can still recall the taste of my Mother’s delicious rhubarb pie. It is always interesting to me, how my five senses, words or events trigger my brain to recall old memories.
While living at home in Ypsilanti before WWII, our Mother would send us across Osborn Street (along side of our home at 715 Oak Street) to the “woods” to cut wild rhubarb. She would use it right away to make a pie or maybe just a sauce. Either one was a delicacy! Her flakey pie crusts would melt in my mouth. Of course she used lard as one of the ingredients. No one would dare to use this shortening- ingredient today, with all the well known cardiovascular taboos. She didn’t refer to it as “rhubarb“, she called it “pie plant.” I didn’t taste strawberry-rhubarb pie until I moved to California. Speaking of the “Woods”, Mom would also send us over to cut wild asparagus. People would not stoop to do this today, but during the Great Depression, those two items supplemented our diet. Too, they were fresh! After WWII, they chopped down all those beautiful trees, and filled the area with concrete and houses. That was “progress”, I guess.
Again, speaking of pies, my favorites are Boston crème; Key lime; chocolate crème and lemon meringue. Come to think of it, I like all pies - except raisin and mince meat.
I used to make apple pies, after I retired in 1983. I got interested in this because we had a golden delicious- apple tree behind our home in Vallejo. I also made a lot of applesauce, as did my Mother. I tried to use all those apples from our tree. The birds, and the worms helped me, but I did my part!
I read about a Clara Chalmers from Bedford, New Hampshire winning a State contest for “Best Apple Pie.” I wrote and asked her if she would share her prize winning recipe pie with me? I was ready to accept her refusal - for whatever reason. She graciously mailed me her recipe. I thought she was a pretty classy lady to share her prize-winning recipe with a stranger.(She was about 80 at the time, and I was 70). Her recipe was included in the glossy magazine she sent. We became friends, and shared phone calls, letters and Christmas cards. This correspondence went on for over ten years, even after her husband George died. It wasn’t long after that, her daughter phoned me and told me that Clara had died. Even though Clara and I never met (I have often regretted that I didn’t make the effort to go and visit them), I was very sad, and actually experienced an emotion of “Loss”. What strange ways we reach out to other people and touch their life, as well as ours. Our life-experience was that much richer for our chance “meeting.”
RCL - 11/8/09.
Strawberry-Rhubarb pie was on the menu for dessert this noon. While I didn’t have any, (I will have it for dinner - if there is any left), I can still recall the taste of my Mother’s delicious rhubarb pie. It is always interesting to me, how my five senses, words or events trigger my brain to recall old memories.
While living at home in Ypsilanti before WWII, our Mother would send us across Osborn Street (along side of our home at 715 Oak Street) to the “woods” to cut wild rhubarb. She would use it right away to make a pie or maybe just a sauce. Either one was a delicacy! Her flakey pie crusts would melt in my mouth. Of course she used lard as one of the ingredients. No one would dare to use this shortening- ingredient today, with all the well known cardiovascular taboos. She didn’t refer to it as “rhubarb“, she called it “pie plant.” I didn’t taste strawberry-rhubarb pie until I moved to California. Speaking of the “Woods”, Mom would also send us over to cut wild asparagus. People would not stoop to do this today, but during the Great Depression, those two items supplemented our diet. Too, they were fresh! After WWII, they chopped down all those beautiful trees, and filled the area with concrete and houses. That was “progress”, I guess.
Again, speaking of pies, my favorites are Boston crème; Key lime; chocolate crème and lemon meringue. Come to think of it, I like all pies - except raisin and mince meat.
I used to make apple pies, after I retired in 1983. I got interested in this because we had a golden delicious- apple tree behind our home in Vallejo. I also made a lot of applesauce, as did my Mother. I tried to use all those apples from our tree. The birds, and the worms helped me, but I did my part!
I read about a Clara Chalmers from Bedford, New Hampshire winning a State contest for “Best Apple Pie.” I wrote and asked her if she would share her prize winning recipe pie with me? I was ready to accept her refusal - for whatever reason. She graciously mailed me her recipe. I thought she was a pretty classy lady to share her prize-winning recipe with a stranger.(She was about 80 at the time, and I was 70). Her recipe was included in the glossy magazine she sent. We became friends, and shared phone calls, letters and Christmas cards. This correspondence went on for over ten years, even after her husband George died. It wasn’t long after that, her daughter phoned me and told me that Clara had died. Even though Clara and I never met (I have often regretted that I didn’t make the effort to go and visit them), I was very sad, and actually experienced an emotion of “Loss”. What strange ways we reach out to other people and touch their life, as well as ours. Our life-experience was that much richer for our chance “meeting.”
RCL - 11/8/09.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
THE PACKARD
NAPA
Mary called and asked me if I would like to take a ride to Napa? We could go to Target, and I could get my Christmas cards while she shopped. Then, we could have lunch. Now, that’s an offer I couldn’t refuse.
She picked me up at 10, and we were off to the beautiful Napa Valley. It was a cool (probably in the 60’s), overcast and dreary day. Rain wasn’t forecast, but being a pessimist, I carried my “brollie”.
After we finished at Target, Mary still had a few things to get at nearby Trader Joe’s. Then, we headed up the Napa Valley. She left
Highway 29 and exited at Yountville. Besides the “Vintage 1870” shopping complex, there are many interesting shops, hotels and restaurants along the frontage road. Then, back on 29 heading north.
Mary stopped between Yountville and St. Helena at the Brix restaurant. There were only a few diners, at noon, when we entered. It was packed when we left the restaurant, an hour and a half later, after having a very tasty lunch. We noticed this beautiful vintage car in the parking lot. Mary asked me what make it was and I told her I thought it was a Rolls Royce (the head lamps- mountings flowed into the front fenders. This was my clue.) Mary drove up next to it, so we could get a closer look, and identify it. A man was sitting in the driver’s seat. (Would you believe that he was on his cell phone?) We didn’t know whether he was the owner, “car sitter”, the chauffeur, a by-stander or a car thief. The man rolled down his window and Mary asked him about the make and vintage (this is a good word to use in the middle of the Napa Valley!). He said that it was a 1947 Packard. I don’t remember ever having seen one just like it. It certainly was a beauty, and worth far more than it cost new, over 60 years ago!
I was reading the Wall Street Journal last night. I came across a front page -story about a dump truck, being pushed out the fourth floor window of an abandoned Packard auto plant- building in Detroit, by a bunch of idiots! I was startled! I had been in that very same building, a few times, seventy years ago! It was located on East Grand Boulevard. It was an old plant when I visited it in 1939. (The brick plant was constructed in 1907, Packard closed it in 1956.) I was in the plant, to trouble -shoot, and repair, some convertible-top assemblies that didn’t properly fit the Packard convertibles. In Ypsilanti, I worked for Motor State Products Company. We assembled the slat-iron frameworks for automatic tops for many different makes of convertibles. These assemblies included the header bars and the hydraulic cylinder, lines and control units. When I started to work there in 1939, I was earning 25 cents an hour. A little later, the UAW organized the plant, and my wage doubled to 50 cents an hour. The owner was a German engineer, who designed the automatic convertible top system. I can’t recall his name, but I think it started with a “G” or a “K”.
Of course, I had to have a convertible. I bought a maroon Chevrolet - red leather seats; black top; white sidewalls and rear-fender skirts. It was a beauty, too. Price $995!
Well back to reality. We returned to Fairfield. It was a routine trip to end a very nice outing.
RCL - 11/07/09.
Mary called and asked me if I would like to take a ride to Napa? We could go to Target, and I could get my Christmas cards while she shopped. Then, we could have lunch. Now, that’s an offer I couldn’t refuse.
She picked me up at 10, and we were off to the beautiful Napa Valley. It was a cool (probably in the 60’s), overcast and dreary day. Rain wasn’t forecast, but being a pessimist, I carried my “brollie”.
After we finished at Target, Mary still had a few things to get at nearby Trader Joe’s. Then, we headed up the Napa Valley. She left
Highway 29 and exited at Yountville. Besides the “Vintage 1870” shopping complex, there are many interesting shops, hotels and restaurants along the frontage road. Then, back on 29 heading north.
Mary stopped between Yountville and St. Helena at the Brix restaurant. There were only a few diners, at noon, when we entered. It was packed when we left the restaurant, an hour and a half later, after having a very tasty lunch. We noticed this beautiful vintage car in the parking lot. Mary asked me what make it was and I told her I thought it was a Rolls Royce (the head lamps- mountings flowed into the front fenders. This was my clue.) Mary drove up next to it, so we could get a closer look, and identify it. A man was sitting in the driver’s seat. (Would you believe that he was on his cell phone?) We didn’t know whether he was the owner, “car sitter”, the chauffeur, a by-stander or a car thief. The man rolled down his window and Mary asked him about the make and vintage (this is a good word to use in the middle of the Napa Valley!). He said that it was a 1947 Packard. I don’t remember ever having seen one just like it. It certainly was a beauty, and worth far more than it cost new, over 60 years ago!
I was reading the Wall Street Journal last night. I came across a front page -story about a dump truck, being pushed out the fourth floor window of an abandoned Packard auto plant- building in Detroit, by a bunch of idiots! I was startled! I had been in that very same building, a few times, seventy years ago! It was located on East Grand Boulevard. It was an old plant when I visited it in 1939. (The brick plant was constructed in 1907, Packard closed it in 1956.) I was in the plant, to trouble -shoot, and repair, some convertible-top assemblies that didn’t properly fit the Packard convertibles. In Ypsilanti, I worked for Motor State Products Company. We assembled the slat-iron frameworks for automatic tops for many different makes of convertibles. These assemblies included the header bars and the hydraulic cylinder, lines and control units. When I started to work there in 1939, I was earning 25 cents an hour. A little later, the UAW organized the plant, and my wage doubled to 50 cents an hour. The owner was a German engineer, who designed the automatic convertible top system. I can’t recall his name, but I think it started with a “G” or a “K”.
Of course, I had to have a convertible. I bought a maroon Chevrolet - red leather seats; black top; white sidewalls and rear-fender skirts. It was a beauty, too. Price $995!
Well back to reality. We returned to Fairfield. It was a routine trip to end a very nice outing.
RCL - 11/07/09.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
WILD WEST SNOW
WILD WEST SNOW!
I toured through Colorado, Wyoming, South Dakota and Utah, a little over two months ago. We lucked out and had very nice weather. It was hard for me to visualize the treacherous weather that they experienced in those areas last week.
I flew into Denver in August, in nice weather, to catch the Tour. I couldn’t believe that the beautiful airport was closed last week, due to snow. Transportation officials also closed Interstate 25 (which we traveled) from Wellington, Colorado to Cheyenne - a stretch of 35 miles. That section re-opened later in the week, We took Highway 85, north of Cheyenne, on our way to Rapid City, It remained closed at week end. No snow in sight when our bus drove through this area!
Gusts of 50 mph blew through our tour area, and it received 3 feet of snow, with higher drifts across the whole area. The wind and snow reduced visibility to zero. When I was there, I could see forever across those prairies. Many main routes through the area were closed, they were too treacherous to drive on. Apparently, those miles and miles of snow fences that I saw, were overwhelmed by the blizzard.
Deadwood, S.D. (where Kevin Costner owns the “Costner Poker Parlor”) got about 15 inches of snow! Officials shut down nearby Mount Rushmore National Memorial. I am thankful that it was “Open’ when I was there. At last week -end, winter-weather advisories remained in effect for southeast Wyoming.
When you are on vacation, you are at the mercy of Mother Nature. Luck and timing are critical.
RCL - 11/3/09.
I toured through Colorado, Wyoming, South Dakota and Utah, a little over two months ago. We lucked out and had very nice weather. It was hard for me to visualize the treacherous weather that they experienced in those areas last week.
I flew into Denver in August, in nice weather, to catch the Tour. I couldn’t believe that the beautiful airport was closed last week, due to snow. Transportation officials also closed Interstate 25 (which we traveled) from Wellington, Colorado to Cheyenne - a stretch of 35 miles. That section re-opened later in the week, We took Highway 85, north of Cheyenne, on our way to Rapid City, It remained closed at week end. No snow in sight when our bus drove through this area!
Gusts of 50 mph blew through our tour area, and it received 3 feet of snow, with higher drifts across the whole area. The wind and snow reduced visibility to zero. When I was there, I could see forever across those prairies. Many main routes through the area were closed, they were too treacherous to drive on. Apparently, those miles and miles of snow fences that I saw, were overwhelmed by the blizzard.
Deadwood, S.D. (where Kevin Costner owns the “Costner Poker Parlor”) got about 15 inches of snow! Officials shut down nearby Mount Rushmore National Memorial. I am thankful that it was “Open’ when I was there. At last week -end, winter-weather advisories remained in effect for southeast Wyoming.
When you are on vacation, you are at the mercy of Mother Nature. Luck and timing are critical.
RCL - 11/3/09.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
BILL
BILL
Wishing you a “Spooky’’ Halloween. This morning, at breakfast, I saw a couple salute each other with raised glasses of prune juice. This must have been an omen for an interesting day.
Just after lunch, I received a phone call. I debated whether to answer, figuring that it was another recorded political spiel - before Tuesday’s election. I did answer, and was pleasantly surprised. Calling, was Bill Foley. He said that he was approaching the gate to our Paradise Valley Estates complex, and would like to visit with me. I had never met Bill, but I had communicated with him via e-mail. After I recovered from my surprise call, I called Security at the Gate to let him in.
The reason I was surprised is that Bill lives in Cowgill, Missouri - 2000 miles away! We crash -landed our B-17, near Braymer, Missouri, (near Cowgill) on February 25, 1943. During our few days “layover’, I met and dated his Aunt Ruby Foley a few times. Bill said that he was three years old at the time. He also said, that he heard his grandmother mention “Junior L’Amoreaux” many times when he was growing up So many times, that he decided he wanted to meet me during his lifetime. An aside - My fellow officers (pilot Ken, co-pilot Doug and navigator Ray) gave me my nickname because I was the youngest of the four of us.
Bill said that he and his wife were out this way to visit a long-time friend of hers in Turlock - a two hour drive from here. I was surprised how familiar he was with the local area, until he told me that he had been stationed at Travis Air Force Base nearby. Too, the GPS system in his van-motor home was a big help.
During our conversation, he said that he lived about a mile from Bill Pollard in Cowgill, and they are both members of the American Legion in Braymer. I have communicated with the latter Bill through the years - by e-mail and telephone - even though we haven’t met either. Bill P. was on his way to school that morning, passing by our wheels- up B-17 in a local cornfield!
Two screenwriters (John and Bill) are working on writing up our “landing” - and the interaction of our crew with the people of Braymer - during the five days we were their “guests”. John and Bill have interviewed all the people that I have mentioned above, about their recollection of that fateful morning.
So, we all should pay attention. When we plan our days, no telling what surprise we may not have included in those plans. RCL - 10/31/09.
Wishing you a “Spooky’’ Halloween. This morning, at breakfast, I saw a couple salute each other with raised glasses of prune juice. This must have been an omen for an interesting day.
Just after lunch, I received a phone call. I debated whether to answer, figuring that it was another recorded political spiel - before Tuesday’s election. I did answer, and was pleasantly surprised. Calling, was Bill Foley. He said that he was approaching the gate to our Paradise Valley Estates complex, and would like to visit with me. I had never met Bill, but I had communicated with him via e-mail. After I recovered from my surprise call, I called Security at the Gate to let him in.
The reason I was surprised is that Bill lives in Cowgill, Missouri - 2000 miles away! We crash -landed our B-17, near Braymer, Missouri, (near Cowgill) on February 25, 1943. During our few days “layover’, I met and dated his Aunt Ruby Foley a few times. Bill said that he was three years old at the time. He also said, that he heard his grandmother mention “Junior L’Amoreaux” many times when he was growing up So many times, that he decided he wanted to meet me during his lifetime. An aside - My fellow officers (pilot Ken, co-pilot Doug and navigator Ray) gave me my nickname because I was the youngest of the four of us.
Bill said that he and his wife were out this way to visit a long-time friend of hers in Turlock - a two hour drive from here. I was surprised how familiar he was with the local area, until he told me that he had been stationed at Travis Air Force Base nearby. Too, the GPS system in his van-motor home was a big help.
During our conversation, he said that he lived about a mile from Bill Pollard in Cowgill, and they are both members of the American Legion in Braymer. I have communicated with the latter Bill through the years - by e-mail and telephone - even though we haven’t met either. Bill P. was on his way to school that morning, passing by our wheels- up B-17 in a local cornfield!
Two screenwriters (John and Bill) are working on writing up our “landing” - and the interaction of our crew with the people of Braymer - during the five days we were their “guests”. John and Bill have interviewed all the people that I have mentioned above, about their recollection of that fateful morning.
So, we all should pay attention. When we plan our days, no telling what surprise we may not have included in those plans. RCL - 10/31/09.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
CLARK BARS
CLARK BARS
My daughter, Sue, brought me a bunch of Clark Bars this evening. Sue has a heck of a memory! She remembered the story of my boyhood. The fact that I’ve probably told it so many times may have helped her recall!
I guess there’s no harm in repeating it. I’m sure that some of you probably aren’t familiar with it.
When I was 10 and eleven, (back in 1928-9), I delivered newspapers for the Hillsdale (MI) Daily News. I delivered papers every day except Sunday. I made sure that my customers received it - rain/snow or shine. Fortunately, it was an afternoon paper, rather than an early morning edition. I would pick up my papers at the paper- printing plant after school during the school year, or on a summer afternoon. I can still hear the roar of the presses, and smell the paper, ink and oil, from the hot presses. I can’t remember how I got the papers at the plant. They must have been bundled by route number. If the weather was nice I would fold the individual papers as I walked from house to house. But, if it was raining or snowing - or just plain freezing - I would sit on the floor of the plant and fold most of them. The paper only had four pages so folding was very easy. I would fold the paper so that it was a third as wide. Then, I would insert the bottom into the top - ending up with a nice compact little square package. They were easy to pack into my bag and easy to throw on to the porches. When it was freezing cold in the winter, I hated to leave the warm and cozy building.
I eventually saved $25 from my earnings, and bought my first, and only, bike - a 26 inch- wheel Hawthorne. I used the bike to deliver the papers, whenever the weather permitted. I had to fold al the papers before I left the plant. I probably had a hundred customers. So, my paper bag was stuffed full when I started. I would place the full bag on top of the handle bars, and head out.
When walking, it was easier to launch the folded paper on to the porch. I got pretty skilled side-arming the papers on to the porches. But, the arc (similar to a moving Frisbee) was pretty tricky, and hard to learn. But, if windy, when walking, or riding my bike, it was pretty hard to hit the target. When sailing the paper you had to “lead” - throw ahead of the porch, with the wind/motion affect. I would like to see the mathematical equation for the trajectory. While a few of my errant tosses ended up on the roof of the porches, I never remember breaking a window. Compared to today’s newspaper delivery service (or no service), in the bushes or gutter, I gave my customers very good service. One advantage that I had, I didn’t have to put the papers in a plastic sleeve during inclement weather.
The paper cost 15 cents a week. I don’t remember, but I probably received two cents of this. I collected on Saturday mornings. With the money, the customer would hand me their card, and I would punch out the date with my paper punch. There are always the “cheats” and “skinflints”.
One old guy would always ask if I had change for a “twenty” - for a 15 cent payment! (This was during the Great Depression). He knew that I didn’t. After hearing the same question for a couple of weeks, I realized that I was a slow learner. The next Saturday, not only did I “collect” from him last, but I carried some additional change. When he popped the question, I called his bluff. I answered, “I sure do!” He was a little flustered! I cooled my heels for quite a while, as he scrambled to find the “Twenty”.
After I finished my collecting, I took all the change to the bank, and changed it into bills. In 1928-9, the Bills were very large (as were the wallets). Gold was still legal then, and I can remember having small denominations of those pieces. When the banks closed, because of a “run” on them during the depression, the Government ordered everyone to turn in their gold pieces. Of course, I respected “authority” and complied. Today, they would be very valuable - not only as an antique, but with gold going for over $1,000 an ounce. Today, I realize that the governments’ order was like today’s warnings not to remove the tags on mattresses and pillows! I settled with the paper and what money left was mine!
After nearly two pages of manuscript, I still haven’t mentioned “Clark Bars”. I had to walk about four blocks from the printing building before I started my paper route. It started downtown at Broad Street and included all of Bacon Street - both sides - eastward to the city limits. This distance was about two miles. The route probably included 100 customers. At the City Limits, Bacon street made a 45 degree jog to the right ,and became Bacon Road. At the City limits was a small hot dog stand called “The Limits” (that figures). A man and his wife ran the shop. In the summer, when I handed them the paper, they gave me a Clark Bar - cost 5 cents. Instead of getting tired of the candy bar, I got hooked on them. They became my favorite. In the winter, they would give me a hot dog. It was the best ones that I’ve ever had. I can still taste them - especially the onions - after 70 years!
D.L. Clark founded his candy company in 1886. Clark came to America from Ireland in 1873 at the age of 8. His education consisted of only one year in grade school. Like me, he sold newspapers at the age of nine. At age twelve, he went to Business College at night, and worked during the day. Clark founded his candy company in 1886.
He introduced his Clark bar by shipping them to the troops overseas during World War One. Their popularity continued with the general population after the war. Clark died in 1939 at the age of 75. In 1955, the Clark family sold the company to Beatrice Foods. It operated the company until 1983. After numerous sales of the company, New England Confectionary Company (NECCO) now owns the company.
I hadn’t seen a Clark bar in many years. I assumed that they were extinct, and I missed my Clark Bar “fix’. I am glad that Sue remembered, and thought of me.
Back to my paper route:
At Christmas, most of my customers remembered me with gifts of homemade cookies, fruit cake , candy or they gave me money. So, I must have done something right.
Today, I really appreciate my newsboy experience. I am glad that my parents went along with it and didn’t intervene. I do believe that my experience helped to mold my philosophy of life, and I’m thankful for that.
Long live the Clark Bar!
RCL
10/22/09.
My daughter, Sue, brought me a bunch of Clark Bars this evening. Sue has a heck of a memory! She remembered the story of my boyhood. The fact that I’ve probably told it so many times may have helped her recall!
I guess there’s no harm in repeating it. I’m sure that some of you probably aren’t familiar with it.
When I was 10 and eleven, (back in 1928-9), I delivered newspapers for the Hillsdale (MI) Daily News. I delivered papers every day except Sunday. I made sure that my customers received it - rain/snow or shine. Fortunately, it was an afternoon paper, rather than an early morning edition. I would pick up my papers at the paper- printing plant after school during the school year, or on a summer afternoon. I can still hear the roar of the presses, and smell the paper, ink and oil, from the hot presses. I can’t remember how I got the papers at the plant. They must have been bundled by route number. If the weather was nice I would fold the individual papers as I walked from house to house. But, if it was raining or snowing - or just plain freezing - I would sit on the floor of the plant and fold most of them. The paper only had four pages so folding was very easy. I would fold the paper so that it was a third as wide. Then, I would insert the bottom into the top - ending up with a nice compact little square package. They were easy to pack into my bag and easy to throw on to the porches. When it was freezing cold in the winter, I hated to leave the warm and cozy building.
I eventually saved $25 from my earnings, and bought my first, and only, bike - a 26 inch- wheel Hawthorne. I used the bike to deliver the papers, whenever the weather permitted. I had to fold al the papers before I left the plant. I probably had a hundred customers. So, my paper bag was stuffed full when I started. I would place the full bag on top of the handle bars, and head out.
When walking, it was easier to launch the folded paper on to the porch. I got pretty skilled side-arming the papers on to the porches. But, the arc (similar to a moving Frisbee) was pretty tricky, and hard to learn. But, if windy, when walking, or riding my bike, it was pretty hard to hit the target. When sailing the paper you had to “lead” - throw ahead of the porch, with the wind/motion affect. I would like to see the mathematical equation for the trajectory. While a few of my errant tosses ended up on the roof of the porches, I never remember breaking a window. Compared to today’s newspaper delivery service (or no service), in the bushes or gutter, I gave my customers very good service. One advantage that I had, I didn’t have to put the papers in a plastic sleeve during inclement weather.
The paper cost 15 cents a week. I don’t remember, but I probably received two cents of this. I collected on Saturday mornings. With the money, the customer would hand me their card, and I would punch out the date with my paper punch. There are always the “cheats” and “skinflints”.
One old guy would always ask if I had change for a “twenty” - for a 15 cent payment! (This was during the Great Depression). He knew that I didn’t. After hearing the same question for a couple of weeks, I realized that I was a slow learner. The next Saturday, not only did I “collect” from him last, but I carried some additional change. When he popped the question, I called his bluff. I answered, “I sure do!” He was a little flustered! I cooled my heels for quite a while, as he scrambled to find the “Twenty”.
After I finished my collecting, I took all the change to the bank, and changed it into bills. In 1928-9, the Bills were very large (as were the wallets). Gold was still legal then, and I can remember having small denominations of those pieces. When the banks closed, because of a “run” on them during the depression, the Government ordered everyone to turn in their gold pieces. Of course, I respected “authority” and complied. Today, they would be very valuable - not only as an antique, but with gold going for over $1,000 an ounce. Today, I realize that the governments’ order was like today’s warnings not to remove the tags on mattresses and pillows! I settled with the paper and what money left was mine!
After nearly two pages of manuscript, I still haven’t mentioned “Clark Bars”. I had to walk about four blocks from the printing building before I started my paper route. It started downtown at Broad Street and included all of Bacon Street - both sides - eastward to the city limits. This distance was about two miles. The route probably included 100 customers. At the City Limits, Bacon street made a 45 degree jog to the right ,and became Bacon Road. At the City limits was a small hot dog stand called “The Limits” (that figures). A man and his wife ran the shop. In the summer, when I handed them the paper, they gave me a Clark Bar - cost 5 cents. Instead of getting tired of the candy bar, I got hooked on them. They became my favorite. In the winter, they would give me a hot dog. It was the best ones that I’ve ever had. I can still taste them - especially the onions - after 70 years!
D.L. Clark founded his candy company in 1886. Clark came to America from Ireland in 1873 at the age of 8. His education consisted of only one year in grade school. Like me, he sold newspapers at the age of nine. At age twelve, he went to Business College at night, and worked during the day. Clark founded his candy company in 1886.
He introduced his Clark bar by shipping them to the troops overseas during World War One. Their popularity continued with the general population after the war. Clark died in 1939 at the age of 75. In 1955, the Clark family sold the company to Beatrice Foods. It operated the company until 1983. After numerous sales of the company, New England Confectionary Company (NECCO) now owns the company.
I hadn’t seen a Clark bar in many years. I assumed that they were extinct, and I missed my Clark Bar “fix’. I am glad that Sue remembered, and thought of me.
Back to my paper route:
At Christmas, most of my customers remembered me with gifts of homemade cookies, fruit cake , candy or they gave me money. So, I must have done something right.
Today, I really appreciate my newsboy experience. I am glad that my parents went along with it and didn’t intervene. I do believe that my experience helped to mold my philosophy of life, and I’m thankful for that.
Long live the Clark Bar!
RCL
10/22/09.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
ACCEPTANCE
ACCEPTANCE
My daughter Joan, joined me for lunch yesterday, here at Quail Creek. We had an interesting conversation about her upcoming Workshop at Stockbridge. She will teach, and demonstrate, how to make skin-care products and candles.
After lunch, we went over to the Laurel Creek Health Center to attend a Care- Plan Conference, on Marie’s status at the skilled nursing facility.
Besides Joan and I, the following facility representatives were there:
Toni - Case Manager
Suzanne - Social Worker
Debbie - Dining Services Dietician
Debra - Activities Coordinator.
The Staff presented their comments relating to Marie’s status, and Joan and I mentioned our concerns and suggestions. While saddened, we were not surprised with the gloomy news.
After the half-hour conference, Joan and I walked over to Station 3 to visit Marie, my Wife, and Joan’s Mother. Upon leaving Marie’s room, I experienced my usual sadness, and I fought off tears. Joan was quiet, so I glanced over at her, and she was teary-eyed, apparently experiencing my same emotion. I am sure that the information, that we just heard in the meeting, contributed to our sad feelings.
This was not the first time that I have experienced this sad emotion. It is a usual feeling each time that I leave Marie. While I have tried to define, and understand it, I have come up empty. Our feeling of “loss’ and sadness, flies in the face of Marie getting optimum care at the facility. (I expect this, when we are paying $230 a day for it!)
The paradox is that I see others in the facility - certainly, some worse off than Marie, I don’t relate to them as I do to Marie, of course. It is probably because I am recalling all the happy memories of 65 years of our being together - a very happy and fruitful marriage. I remember how vibrant she used to be, and what a pleasure to be with. But, it doesn’t dull the pain. I want this same setting again. I don’t have the same feeling for the others.
I see them as very fortunate to have such “tender loving care!”
Why am I experiencing this sadness? Probably, because I am facing reality, and haven’t come to grips with it. I want to “fix” her, and I can’t. I am helpless. It is not to be. While many of us are out- living our life expectancy, it can be at a trade-off! More extended years with chronic health problems.
I have read Elisabeth Kubler Ross’ “Death and Dying,” and thought that I had reconciled her Fifth Rule for Grieving - “Acceptance”. Apparently not. Marie’s Neurologist has diagnosed her with Alzheimer Dementia. This is irreversible. While I know this, I still grieve. The MRI of Marie’s brain showed a loss of 50 percent of the cells in her frontal cortex.
On a much lighter note:-
Later yesterday afternoon, Joan and Manny joined me for Bocce Ball and golf. Our Bocce team showed up at three o’clock per schedule, but a “No Show” for our opponents. Their “forfeit” was an easy win for us. Joan and Manny had dropped by to watch me play. So it wasn’t a total loss, I suggested that the three of us play. They agreed. It was their first try at Bocce Ball, and they were very competitive, as they usually are.
After throwing a few balls, we went over to the putting green. We putted around the nine holes, and I enjoyed that, too.
RCL - 10/22/09.
My daughter Joan, joined me for lunch yesterday, here at Quail Creek. We had an interesting conversation about her upcoming Workshop at Stockbridge. She will teach, and demonstrate, how to make skin-care products and candles.
After lunch, we went over to the Laurel Creek Health Center to attend a Care- Plan Conference, on Marie’s status at the skilled nursing facility.
Besides Joan and I, the following facility representatives were there:
Toni - Case Manager
Suzanne - Social Worker
Debbie - Dining Services Dietician
Debra - Activities Coordinator.
The Staff presented their comments relating to Marie’s status, and Joan and I mentioned our concerns and suggestions. While saddened, we were not surprised with the gloomy news.
After the half-hour conference, Joan and I walked over to Station 3 to visit Marie, my Wife, and Joan’s Mother. Upon leaving Marie’s room, I experienced my usual sadness, and I fought off tears. Joan was quiet, so I glanced over at her, and she was teary-eyed, apparently experiencing my same emotion. I am sure that the information, that we just heard in the meeting, contributed to our sad feelings.
This was not the first time that I have experienced this sad emotion. It is a usual feeling each time that I leave Marie. While I have tried to define, and understand it, I have come up empty. Our feeling of “loss’ and sadness, flies in the face of Marie getting optimum care at the facility. (I expect this, when we are paying $230 a day for it!)
The paradox is that I see others in the facility - certainly, some worse off than Marie, I don’t relate to them as I do to Marie, of course. It is probably because I am recalling all the happy memories of 65 years of our being together - a very happy and fruitful marriage. I remember how vibrant she used to be, and what a pleasure to be with. But, it doesn’t dull the pain. I want this same setting again. I don’t have the same feeling for the others.
I see them as very fortunate to have such “tender loving care!”
Why am I experiencing this sadness? Probably, because I am facing reality, and haven’t come to grips with it. I want to “fix” her, and I can’t. I am helpless. It is not to be. While many of us are out- living our life expectancy, it can be at a trade-off! More extended years with chronic health problems.
I have read Elisabeth Kubler Ross’ “Death and Dying,” and thought that I had reconciled her Fifth Rule for Grieving - “Acceptance”. Apparently not. Marie’s Neurologist has diagnosed her with Alzheimer Dementia. This is irreversible. While I know this, I still grieve. The MRI of Marie’s brain showed a loss of 50 percent of the cells in her frontal cortex.
On a much lighter note:-
Later yesterday afternoon, Joan and Manny joined me for Bocce Ball and golf. Our Bocce team showed up at three o’clock per schedule, but a “No Show” for our opponents. Their “forfeit” was an easy win for us. Joan and Manny had dropped by to watch me play. So it wasn’t a total loss, I suggested that the three of us play. They agreed. It was their first try at Bocce Ball, and they were very competitive, as they usually are.
After throwing a few balls, we went over to the putting green. We putted around the nine holes, and I enjoyed that, too.
RCL - 10/22/09.
KNOW SOMETHING!
Lately, I am getting a lot of junk mail! Subjects - “Pre-need Funerals” and also “Pre-paid Cremation”. They have got me wondering, if someone knows something that I am not aware of?
RCL
RCL
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
SOCIAL SECURITY
SOCIAL SECURITY
Yesterday, I received a letter from Bob, a friend, who works in the Glen Cove -Safeway store in Vallejo. He wrote that he opted for early retirement Social Security payments. He will continue working. Bob is in a good situation, as he is currently working part-time. He can earn up to $12,000 (2005) dollars a year, before a penalty. After this amount, he will be penalized $1 of benefits for every $2 he earns. His current Benefit is 75% of the Benefit he would have received at age 66, However, the amount of his benefit will be the same over time!
He also mentioned Leo, another friend in the same store, who is 65 and still working. Leo is collecting his full Social Security Benefit, and has no earnings restriction penalty. Had Leo waited until he was 70 before filing, he would have earned additional Social Security credits. Beyond the age of 70, there is no additional increase in Benefits.
Bob’s letter got me reflecting back on my Social Security decision in 1983. I retired on February 1 - prior to being 65 in November. I took a 5% hit from full eligibility, for this nine month shortfall. Even though it was a small decision to take “Early Retirement”, it is was still a decision. Deciding whether to retire early, or work until the legislated-fully vested Social Security age, is one of the biggest financial decisions people will face in their lifetime. It is a “crap-shoot”. There are so many variables and unknowns that you have to consider:-for instance, - will you reach, or exceed, your life expectancy? We are living longer than we were projected to live at birth. This increased longevity has come at a cost - in more chronic -health problems. Also, you have to consider the source for your genes. Were your parents and grandparents long-lived? What was their medical history? Another variable:- How much do you travel on the busy California freeways? Your exposure to all of the goofy - weaving - texting-drivers can be dangerous to your health, and reduce your longevity!
I think that the general consensus is that it is more prudent to file early for Social security - even though you will be receiving smaller monthly payments (these will be “fixed”), for a longer period of time. You are betting that you will beat the Governments’ actuarial by living longer than they calculated. A “no brainer” for taking early Social security payments would be to shelter investments having high returns. You would use your Social Security income rather than cash in your high quality investments. In this recessionary era, this situation would be highly unlikely - unless you have invested in a Ponzi scheme!
I got side-tracked, Back to my decision to retire a little early. The winter season of 1982-3 was particularly rainy. Too, the stress from my commute to San Francisco from Vallejo was bothering me. The travel times to and from, had almost doubled in the 14 years of commuting (1969-1983). Even though I commuted by a charter -Greyhound Bus, it was wearing.
While on the subject of Social Security: - The Social Security Act was signed into law in 1935 by president Franklin Roosevelt. It has been amended through the years. The program is administered by the Social Security Administration (SSA). It is amazing to me, that the fund is still solvent - and is predicted to remain so for many more years - even with the earl “Boomers” joining the ranks. The program is a “Social Insurance”, even though some high-wage earners pay more into the system than they receive back. The system is “pseudo-scientific.” It is based on statistical probabilities (actuarials), and these assumptions change over time. It is based on averages, and no one is “average”. “Life Expectancies” are increasing with each generation. Yet, all-in-all, the Benefits are a God-send to great number of people. For some, it is their major source of income. This is outside of the Supplemental Security Income (SSI) program. While SSI is managed by SSA, the SSI funds are not part of the Social Security taxes.
Good luck, one and all, on your decision making!
RCL
October 20, 2009.
Yesterday, I received a letter from Bob, a friend, who works in the Glen Cove -Safeway store in Vallejo. He wrote that he opted for early retirement Social Security payments. He will continue working. Bob is in a good situation, as he is currently working part-time. He can earn up to $12,000 (2005) dollars a year, before a penalty. After this amount, he will be penalized $1 of benefits for every $2 he earns. His current Benefit is 75% of the Benefit he would have received at age 66, However, the amount of his benefit will be the same over time!
He also mentioned Leo, another friend in the same store, who is 65 and still working. Leo is collecting his full Social Security Benefit, and has no earnings restriction penalty. Had Leo waited until he was 70 before filing, he would have earned additional Social Security credits. Beyond the age of 70, there is no additional increase in Benefits.
Bob’s letter got me reflecting back on my Social Security decision in 1983. I retired on February 1 - prior to being 65 in November. I took a 5% hit from full eligibility, for this nine month shortfall. Even though it was a small decision to take “Early Retirement”, it is was still a decision. Deciding whether to retire early, or work until the legislated-fully vested Social Security age, is one of the biggest financial decisions people will face in their lifetime. It is a “crap-shoot”. There are so many variables and unknowns that you have to consider:-for instance, - will you reach, or exceed, your life expectancy? We are living longer than we were projected to live at birth. This increased longevity has come at a cost - in more chronic -health problems. Also, you have to consider the source for your genes. Were your parents and grandparents long-lived? What was their medical history? Another variable:- How much do you travel on the busy California freeways? Your exposure to all of the goofy - weaving - texting-drivers can be dangerous to your health, and reduce your longevity!
I think that the general consensus is that it is more prudent to file early for Social security - even though you will be receiving smaller monthly payments (these will be “fixed”), for a longer period of time. You are betting that you will beat the Governments’ actuarial by living longer than they calculated. A “no brainer” for taking early Social security payments would be to shelter investments having high returns. You would use your Social Security income rather than cash in your high quality investments. In this recessionary era, this situation would be highly unlikely - unless you have invested in a Ponzi scheme!
I got side-tracked, Back to my decision to retire a little early. The winter season of 1982-3 was particularly rainy. Too, the stress from my commute to San Francisco from Vallejo was bothering me. The travel times to and from, had almost doubled in the 14 years of commuting (1969-1983). Even though I commuted by a charter -Greyhound Bus, it was wearing.
While on the subject of Social Security: - The Social Security Act was signed into law in 1935 by president Franklin Roosevelt. It has been amended through the years. The program is administered by the Social Security Administration (SSA). It is amazing to me, that the fund is still solvent - and is predicted to remain so for many more years - even with the earl “Boomers” joining the ranks. The program is a “Social Insurance”, even though some high-wage earners pay more into the system than they receive back. The system is “pseudo-scientific.” It is based on statistical probabilities (actuarials), and these assumptions change over time. It is based on averages, and no one is “average”. “Life Expectancies” are increasing with each generation. Yet, all-in-all, the Benefits are a God-send to great number of people. For some, it is their major source of income. This is outside of the Supplemental Security Income (SSI) program. While SSI is managed by SSA, the SSI funds are not part of the Social Security taxes.
Good luck, one and all, on your decision making!
RCL
October 20, 2009.
Monday, October 19, 2009
BRIDGE GAME
BRIDGE GAME
I played bridge last Wednesday (October 14). I am enjoying playing bridge, even though I don’t seem to get many good hands. One needs a few good cards to even play defense. I know that the “law of averages” kicks in, but am wondering over what time span?
You can’t use a bidding system because you have a different partner at each of the three tables. I guess it could be done, but you would need tremendous recall, when you might play with any of twenty different people, who might have various bidding conventions.
We do have some interesting conversations though. At one table, George was my partner, I like him as a person, and I enjoy him as a partner. He is an interesting guy. I would like to know more about his background. When George bids, he’s inconsistent. He likes to “wing it”. (Sometimes, it works out.) You still don’t know if his bid describes his holdings. If his partnership goes “set”, and his partner questions his bidding, he answers, “I wanted to tell you what cards I had!” He likes to cross-trump (who doesn’t?), and the corollary, he doesn’t like “No Trump” bids. He gets confused as to “whose lead?”; “whose trick?” and “whose deal?” But, George is 95! These memory lapses aren’t peculiar to George, for we all utter these words at various times! He still drives, and is very generous in offering people rides. He returned recently from a ten day cruise to Alaska!
George is living across the street in the Paradise Valley - Independent Living complex. He looked at Quail Creek, an Assisted Living facility (where I live), but it didn’t take him long to nix the idea of changing his residence. He is getting twice the space for half of the Q.C. monthly fee. Too, he insists on someone making his bed each day - probably a throwback to his military experience, when he was “in charge” of making his bed!
George goes out for breakfast each morning. He is a connoisseur on where to eat breakfast. He said that he gets up early and doesn’t want to wait for the Café’ to open.
At the third, and last table, we had an interesting conversation. Dorothy mentioned that Betty was off on her 22 day cruise aboard the Queen Mary 2 ($11,000!). George mentioned that he had taken a cruise on it too. He said that They boarded it At Fort Lauderdale, and sailed around Cape Horn to San Francisco - 34 days! He said that there were 3,000 passengers and a crew of 2,000!
Then, Jim said that he was aboard the original Queen Mary during WWII, when it had been converted to a troop carrier - with 15,000 men aboard! He was the purser - in charge of the $85,000 “petty cash” fund - primarily for per diem - $5/day/man. Jim mentioned that the government was tight with money. I guess so!
An aside: Jim’s tale got me to thinking about my experience on a Troop Ship in 1943. I was returning to the States after flying 50 missions as a bombardier on a B-17 Flying fortress. The ship was “The Empress of Scotland” before the troop-ship conversion. I caught the ship in Casablanca. We spent seven days zigzagging every so often - just short of the time that It would take for a German U-Boat to aim and fire a torpedo at us. (We were unescorted). We could outrun the subs with our 30 knots. There were twelve of us officers in the former stateroom. We were served meals in the dining room - which was very nice. Even with the fast speed, due to changing course so many times, it took us eight days to reach Newport News.
Then, Dorothy mentioned that her brother won $30,000 playing poker on a troop ship during the war, She recalled a childhood memory:- She and her brother would visit a neighboring farm. They liked to help with the chores - like picking vegetables, gathering eggs and so forth. The farmer agreed to teach them how to farm. One day when they returned home, her brother was carrying a chicken. When they arrived home, their mother asked him where he got the chicken? Her brother told his mother, “It followed him home!”
We were the last of the three tables to finish for the day. I wonder why?
RCL - 10/17/09.
I played bridge last Wednesday (October 14). I am enjoying playing bridge, even though I don’t seem to get many good hands. One needs a few good cards to even play defense. I know that the “law of averages” kicks in, but am wondering over what time span?
You can’t use a bidding system because you have a different partner at each of the three tables. I guess it could be done, but you would need tremendous recall, when you might play with any of twenty different people, who might have various bidding conventions.
We do have some interesting conversations though. At one table, George was my partner, I like him as a person, and I enjoy him as a partner. He is an interesting guy. I would like to know more about his background. When George bids, he’s inconsistent. He likes to “wing it”. (Sometimes, it works out.) You still don’t know if his bid describes his holdings. If his partnership goes “set”, and his partner questions his bidding, he answers, “I wanted to tell you what cards I had!” He likes to cross-trump (who doesn’t?), and the corollary, he doesn’t like “No Trump” bids. He gets confused as to “whose lead?”; “whose trick?” and “whose deal?” But, George is 95! These memory lapses aren’t peculiar to George, for we all utter these words at various times! He still drives, and is very generous in offering people rides. He returned recently from a ten day cruise to Alaska!
George is living across the street in the Paradise Valley - Independent Living complex. He looked at Quail Creek, an Assisted Living facility (where I live), but it didn’t take him long to nix the idea of changing his residence. He is getting twice the space for half of the Q.C. monthly fee. Too, he insists on someone making his bed each day - probably a throwback to his military experience, when he was “in charge” of making his bed!
George goes out for breakfast each morning. He is a connoisseur on where to eat breakfast. He said that he gets up early and doesn’t want to wait for the Café’ to open.
At the third, and last table, we had an interesting conversation. Dorothy mentioned that Betty was off on her 22 day cruise aboard the Queen Mary 2 ($11,000!). George mentioned that he had taken a cruise on it too. He said that They boarded it At Fort Lauderdale, and sailed around Cape Horn to San Francisco - 34 days! He said that there were 3,000 passengers and a crew of 2,000!
Then, Jim said that he was aboard the original Queen Mary during WWII, when it had been converted to a troop carrier - with 15,000 men aboard! He was the purser - in charge of the $85,000 “petty cash” fund - primarily for per diem - $5/day/man. Jim mentioned that the government was tight with money. I guess so!
An aside: Jim’s tale got me to thinking about my experience on a Troop Ship in 1943. I was returning to the States after flying 50 missions as a bombardier on a B-17 Flying fortress. The ship was “The Empress of Scotland” before the troop-ship conversion. I caught the ship in Casablanca. We spent seven days zigzagging every so often - just short of the time that It would take for a German U-Boat to aim and fire a torpedo at us. (We were unescorted). We could outrun the subs with our 30 knots. There were twelve of us officers in the former stateroom. We were served meals in the dining room - which was very nice. Even with the fast speed, due to changing course so many times, it took us eight days to reach Newport News.
Then, Dorothy mentioned that her brother won $30,000 playing poker on a troop ship during the war, She recalled a childhood memory:- She and her brother would visit a neighboring farm. They liked to help with the chores - like picking vegetables, gathering eggs and so forth. The farmer agreed to teach them how to farm. One day when they returned home, her brother was carrying a chicken. When they arrived home, their mother asked him where he got the chicken? Her brother told his mother, “It followed him home!”
We were the last of the three tables to finish for the day. I wonder why?
RCL - 10/17/09.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
TOURO UNIVERSITY
TOURO UNIVERSITY
I had an interesting experience today. Bunny, a friend of Reva’s, and a teacher at Touro University in Vallejo, asked me if students of hers could interview me, and do a physical exam. I agreed, feeling that if I could contribute anything to the medical field, I was certainly willing to do so.
Locally, Touro University has two campuses on Mare Island and one in Vallejo. The school specializes in the medical field - a College of Osteopathic Medicine; a College of Health Sciences and a College of Education.
Bunny introduced me to my student - interviewers, Brian and Kevin, and we were off to our Quail Creek first floor Family Room. I enjoyed their youthful enthusiasm and dedication to the protocol that they had prepared. I respect them for treating me the same demeanor that they would show with a much younger patient. I feel honored to be an interviewee.
I admire them for choosing a field of work where there will be much need - with 70 million “Boomers” in the pipeline for medical care. Too, it is a sacrifice - a very costly career, with many years of difficult study.
Their medical interrogation was a rewarding experience. (I particularly liked his question, “Are you sexually active?”). My recalling of my medical history reminded me of what a wonderful “being” the human body is. I am always amazed, by what little concern for their health, that “abusers” have.
Their physical check-up reminded me that it isn’t too late to pay attention to what is going on in my body. The session lasted longer than I expected - two and a half hours! But it was time well spent, and I am glad that I had the experience.
I wish Brian and Kevin well in their future careers. The world will be a better place with their contributions.
Ray L’Amoreaux
October 15, 2009.
I had an interesting experience today. Bunny, a friend of Reva’s, and a teacher at Touro University in Vallejo, asked me if students of hers could interview me, and do a physical exam. I agreed, feeling that if I could contribute anything to the medical field, I was certainly willing to do so.
Locally, Touro University has two campuses on Mare Island and one in Vallejo. The school specializes in the medical field - a College of Osteopathic Medicine; a College of Health Sciences and a College of Education.
Bunny introduced me to my student - interviewers, Brian and Kevin, and we were off to our Quail Creek first floor Family Room. I enjoyed their youthful enthusiasm and dedication to the protocol that they had prepared. I respect them for treating me the same demeanor that they would show with a much younger patient. I feel honored to be an interviewee.
I admire them for choosing a field of work where there will be much need - with 70 million “Boomers” in the pipeline for medical care. Too, it is a sacrifice - a very costly career, with many years of difficult study.
Their medical interrogation was a rewarding experience. (I particularly liked his question, “Are you sexually active?”). My recalling of my medical history reminded me of what a wonderful “being” the human body is. I am always amazed, by what little concern for their health, that “abusers” have.
Their physical check-up reminded me that it isn’t too late to pay attention to what is going on in my body. The session lasted longer than I expected - two and a half hours! But it was time well spent, and I am glad that I had the experience.
I wish Brian and Kevin well in their future careers. The world will be a better place with their contributions.
Ray L’Amoreaux
October 15, 2009.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
SAN DIEGO
SAN DIEGO
It is Thursday, September 17, 2009, and I am headed down to San Diego to attend the wedding of my oldest grand daughter, Melissa, and her fiancé` Ryan. Mary and Greg have picked up Sue, and they swing by Quail Creek and get me. Greg loads my suit case, and carry-on, into the spacious trunk of his Toyota, and we are off to the Sacramento Airport. I am sure that they are leaving sooner than they do when I’m not with them. They know how nervous I am about catching my flight. I missed a flight once when traveling on business. I promised myself that I would never miss another one. I didn’t want to go through that helpless feeling again. My theory is - “I’d rather sit “relaxed” at the airport than sit “tensed” at home, waiting to leave.
We arrive in plenty of time and I am relieved. Greg parked the car when while we joined the Disney-lie snake line to check in with our luggage. It took us less than an hour to check in and go through the Security Check. I had a new experience. This is my introduction to the Sacramento Airport. The Southwest “coordinator” checked me out on the computer, at the counter, to get my “boarding pass”. Nice to learn something new at this late stage! We stopped in the snack area as we had plenty of time until boarding.
Sue got me a pre-boarding pass. She was allowed to board with me. It worked out well, because she was able to “hold” two seats for Mary and Greg (no reserved seating on Southwest. They board by A, B and C groups. Your assignment is “first come first served”, when obtaining the boarding passes.
It was a scenic flight down - first over land and then along the coast into San Diego. We had a good view of Hetch-Hetchy reservoir - the source of San Francisco’s water supply, It is located at the North end of Yosemite Park. There was a big battle before it was constructed. Big business won over the environmentalists. John Muir must still be shaking his fist on High!
After picking up our luggage at the Southwest carousel, we took the Hertz shuttle to their office off -airport. The car renters used to be in the terminals, with the cars parked just outside. Check-in was very convenient and fast. Cheaper off-site. Let the customer scramble! Although it is nice of them to provide the shuttle bus!
Sue, Greg and I cooled our heels outside, across the street from the Hertz check-in office. Mary was inside, in line, inching up to the counter for an hour, for the privilege of renting one of their vehicles. She finally was awarded a four-door black Honda. While standing outside, Greg spotted Steadman - Oprah’s sidekick. He was boarding (hurriedly) a Hertz shuttle (heading back to Chicago?) Greg mentioned it. Sue really got excited! She wanted to run over and get his auto graph! Greg and I talked her out of it. He was probably the real thing, because Joan and Manny saw him in bound the day before, after they arrived in San Diego.
I was surprised at the roomy trunk of the Honda. Greg skillfully fit all of our luggage in, and still could close the trunk without leaning on the door. Greg drove us to the waterfront where we had a nice lunch at the Fish Market. I was really impressed with the Bob Hope sculptures that Greg pointed out in front of the restaurant.
After lunch, Greg drove us to the Radisson Hotel on the North end of San Diego. (11520 West Bernardo Court). Sue and I shared Room 216. I really enjoyed our three night stay there. There was a restaurant below us, so it was very convenient. It was strange to see Joan and Manny, Melissa, Michelle and Brittney in a setting different than in Fairfield.
This evening, Thursday, Ryan’s stepmother, Jeannette and dad, Bill, graciously hosted the Rehearsal Dinner at Romano’s Macaroni Grill. So, I got to meet them, and Ryan’s mom, Janice, and his brother, Andy. I also got to meet Ryan’s relatives and friends. Some of the relatives came from Rochester, New York - including Janice’s mother (Ryan’s grandmother), Angie. I enjoyed a very pleasant evening.
On Friday, Greg was very gracious in driving us all over the San Diego area - including beautiful La Jolla, where his sister Flo lives. He is very familiar with the local area and was an excellent Tour Guide! I was really impressed with the nice beaches, and the beautiful homes.
Thanks to cell phones, we all - Mary, Greg, Sue, Joan. Manny, Melissa, Michelle and Brittney and I, were able to meet up at the Urbane Café’ for lunch. Joan and Manny treated all of us! It was very nice of them, and I enjoyed sharing lunch.
Melissa sat next to me, and shared the philosophy on the inside of her Honest Ade - Orange Mango drink - label. - “The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade, you do not expect to sit” - Nelson Henderson. We volunteered on what exactly we thought the quote meant.
Friday evening, the family ate in the hotel. Mary and Greg “treated.” It was a very enjoyable evening.
Saturday was a very busy “flower day.” Everyone (but me) pitched in and took over one of the rooms. They made the flower arrangements and the
button Aires and corsages. They did a professional job - consuming most of the day,
The Wedding took place at the Bernardo Winery not too far from the hotel. Melissa and Ryan made all the arrangements, and they did a very thorough and professional job. The ceremony took place at five in the afternoon, and was held outside in a very nice garden setting. Being late afternoon, it had cooled off a little.
Joy officiated, and performed an interesting and spiritual ceremony. Manny escorted Melissa, and I escorted Joan. Melissa’s sisters. Michelle and Brittney were bridesmaids. Tory, Ryan’s lifelong friend and his brother Andy were Groomsmen. (Tory’s mother, and Ryan’s mother, delivered their sons at about the same time.) After a delicious dinner and Wedding Cake, there was dancing.
Joan drove Sue and I to the San Diego Airport on Sunday for our return flight to Sacramento. I sure appreciated her help. We checked our suitcases inside, and went through Security. While waiting for Flight 1493 to board, Sue got a sandwich, which we split. While sitting there, I noticed this older man walking by. He was limping, and I wondered if the heavy weight of the bag was causing it. Sue and I pre-boarded. Soon, the old guy came hobbling on board and stopped at the row ahead of us. He had the gall to ask Sue to put his heavy bag up in the bin. He said that he had a bad back! (Why didn’t the dummy check it?) I told Sue to forget it - or she would have a bad back. It takes all kinds. No wonder older people are stereotyped!
The flight back to Sacramento was uneventful. Walking in the jet way, I belatedly wondered what altitude we were flying. She went back and asked the pilot, and he said 38,000 feet (- odd altitude Southbound, and even Northbound.).Tom was very thoughtful, an met us at the Southwest “Arrival” area. This was my first time to see the very nice Sacramento Airport.
RCL - 10/10/09.
It is Thursday, September 17, 2009, and I am headed down to San Diego to attend the wedding of my oldest grand daughter, Melissa, and her fiancé` Ryan. Mary and Greg have picked up Sue, and they swing by Quail Creek and get me. Greg loads my suit case, and carry-on, into the spacious trunk of his Toyota, and we are off to the Sacramento Airport. I am sure that they are leaving sooner than they do when I’m not with them. They know how nervous I am about catching my flight. I missed a flight once when traveling on business. I promised myself that I would never miss another one. I didn’t want to go through that helpless feeling again. My theory is - “I’d rather sit “relaxed” at the airport than sit “tensed” at home, waiting to leave.
We arrive in plenty of time and I am relieved. Greg parked the car when while we joined the Disney-lie snake line to check in with our luggage. It took us less than an hour to check in and go through the Security Check. I had a new experience. This is my introduction to the Sacramento Airport. The Southwest “coordinator” checked me out on the computer, at the counter, to get my “boarding pass”. Nice to learn something new at this late stage! We stopped in the snack area as we had plenty of time until boarding.
Sue got me a pre-boarding pass. She was allowed to board with me. It worked out well, because she was able to “hold” two seats for Mary and Greg (no reserved seating on Southwest. They board by A, B and C groups. Your assignment is “first come first served”, when obtaining the boarding passes.
It was a scenic flight down - first over land and then along the coast into San Diego. We had a good view of Hetch-Hetchy reservoir - the source of San Francisco’s water supply, It is located at the North end of Yosemite Park. There was a big battle before it was constructed. Big business won over the environmentalists. John Muir must still be shaking his fist on High!
After picking up our luggage at the Southwest carousel, we took the Hertz shuttle to their office off -airport. The car renters used to be in the terminals, with the cars parked just outside. Check-in was very convenient and fast. Cheaper off-site. Let the customer scramble! Although it is nice of them to provide the shuttle bus!
Sue, Greg and I cooled our heels outside, across the street from the Hertz check-in office. Mary was inside, in line, inching up to the counter for an hour, for the privilege of renting one of their vehicles. She finally was awarded a four-door black Honda. While standing outside, Greg spotted Steadman - Oprah’s sidekick. He was boarding (hurriedly) a Hertz shuttle (heading back to Chicago?) Greg mentioned it. Sue really got excited! She wanted to run over and get his auto graph! Greg and I talked her out of it. He was probably the real thing, because Joan and Manny saw him in bound the day before, after they arrived in San Diego.
I was surprised at the roomy trunk of the Honda. Greg skillfully fit all of our luggage in, and still could close the trunk without leaning on the door. Greg drove us to the waterfront where we had a nice lunch at the Fish Market. I was really impressed with the Bob Hope sculptures that Greg pointed out in front of the restaurant.
After lunch, Greg drove us to the Radisson Hotel on the North end of San Diego. (11520 West Bernardo Court). Sue and I shared Room 216. I really enjoyed our three night stay there. There was a restaurant below us, so it was very convenient. It was strange to see Joan and Manny, Melissa, Michelle and Brittney in a setting different than in Fairfield.
This evening, Thursday, Ryan’s stepmother, Jeannette and dad, Bill, graciously hosted the Rehearsal Dinner at Romano’s Macaroni Grill. So, I got to meet them, and Ryan’s mom, Janice, and his brother, Andy. I also got to meet Ryan’s relatives and friends. Some of the relatives came from Rochester, New York - including Janice’s mother (Ryan’s grandmother), Angie. I enjoyed a very pleasant evening.
On Friday, Greg was very gracious in driving us all over the San Diego area - including beautiful La Jolla, where his sister Flo lives. He is very familiar with the local area and was an excellent Tour Guide! I was really impressed with the nice beaches, and the beautiful homes.
Thanks to cell phones, we all - Mary, Greg, Sue, Joan. Manny, Melissa, Michelle and Brittney and I, were able to meet up at the Urbane Café’ for lunch. Joan and Manny treated all of us! It was very nice of them, and I enjoyed sharing lunch.
Melissa sat next to me, and shared the philosophy on the inside of her Honest Ade - Orange Mango drink - label. - “The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade, you do not expect to sit” - Nelson Henderson. We volunteered on what exactly we thought the quote meant.
Friday evening, the family ate in the hotel. Mary and Greg “treated.” It was a very enjoyable evening.
Saturday was a very busy “flower day.” Everyone (but me) pitched in and took over one of the rooms. They made the flower arrangements and the
button Aires and corsages. They did a professional job - consuming most of the day,
The Wedding took place at the Bernardo Winery not too far from the hotel. Melissa and Ryan made all the arrangements, and they did a very thorough and professional job. The ceremony took place at five in the afternoon, and was held outside in a very nice garden setting. Being late afternoon, it had cooled off a little.
Joy officiated, and performed an interesting and spiritual ceremony. Manny escorted Melissa, and I escorted Joan. Melissa’s sisters. Michelle and Brittney were bridesmaids. Tory, Ryan’s lifelong friend and his brother Andy were Groomsmen. (Tory’s mother, and Ryan’s mother, delivered their sons at about the same time.) After a delicious dinner and Wedding Cake, there was dancing.
Joan drove Sue and I to the San Diego Airport on Sunday for our return flight to Sacramento. I sure appreciated her help. We checked our suitcases inside, and went through Security. While waiting for Flight 1493 to board, Sue got a sandwich, which we split. While sitting there, I noticed this older man walking by. He was limping, and I wondered if the heavy weight of the bag was causing it. Sue and I pre-boarded. Soon, the old guy came hobbling on board and stopped at the row ahead of us. He had the gall to ask Sue to put his heavy bag up in the bin. He said that he had a bad back! (Why didn’t the dummy check it?) I told Sue to forget it - or she would have a bad back. It takes all kinds. No wonder older people are stereotyped!
The flight back to Sacramento was uneventful. Walking in the jet way, I belatedly wondered what altitude we were flying. She went back and asked the pilot, and he said 38,000 feet (- odd altitude Southbound, and even Northbound.).Tom was very thoughtful, an met us at the Southwest “Arrival” area. This was my first time to see the very nice Sacramento Airport.
RCL - 10/10/09.
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