Some Blasts From the Past

Just made contact with an old Shipmate, and an old classmate, in the past two days. As much as I gripe about technology, it is great. Angelo Olivo (such a nice Irish name) was a DP1 when I first met him at FCTCP, one of the LHA Training Instructors of Code 37/337. John Vasquez and I used to wrestle for Vaca High, and graduated in 1969.
Thinking about Angelo, takes me back a ways, 1974 to be exact. I was a DP2, on his second tour. Angelo probably remembers the stupid things I did, and I know he probably laughs, but Angelo taught me a very good, and long-remembered lesson. I arrived at FCTCP in November of '74, right in the middle of the NFL season. Angelo was a NY Giants fan, his desk modestly adorned with Giants paraphernalia; I was a Raider fan (have been ever since the Raiders came into being). What I remember most about Angelo was his pride in being from New York. On the few occassions when he'd tell me about his "home," even he would admit that it "sucked," but it was his home, born and raised. When I looked back on my own "home," I really didn't have any strong attachments to any place in particular. I had lived in Vallejo the longest, but I was actually glad to leave that city for Vacaville.
Angelo, "Smitty," Master Chief Sam, LT Losli, Frank, Marty Cluck, Tom, and a few others, were Code 37. It was a pretty loose organization, our assignment was to learn ITAWDS, and the applications of an AN/UYK-7 computer. From the designer's training, we were to develop a series of instruction by which to train subsequent users. "What Litton handed us," Gerry Losli used to say, "was a burning bag of [explicative], and we were barefoot."
It was a great environment to hone my alcoholic tendencies. Everybody drank. Beer at lunch; beer after work; beer at the bowling alley... you see where I'm going here? I got my first DUI. Paid a $127 fine, and two-points on my license. Got stopped a second time, three years later, but charges were dismissed. Yeah, it was pretty loose.
John Vasquez, excuse me, Supervisor Vasquez, is an old friend, and foe. In our Junior year at Vaca High, John and I competed in the same weight-class, 127 pounds (been a long time since those days, eh Johnny?). I was pretty good, John was a little better. One-on-one, John usually came out on top, but he never pinned me. Oh, I got my share of chances at Varsity matches, but I'm sure that was mostly Larry Nelson's doing.
John taught me about family, early in my life. The Vasquez family was always involved in the community, even to the extent that they entered a "mounted-unit" in local parades. The Vasquez's seemed to be related to everone, either through marriage, or business. I once attended a Cinco de Mayo celebration at El Rancho Vasquez, when the family held the property between the Coffee Tree and the overpass to Nut Tree Road from Monte Vista. There's no trace of the place, anymore, it's all shopping centers. Even the Coffee Tree is gone, in favor of an Olive Garden. I ask you, Mr. Supervisor, don't you have the least bit of sorrow over the fate of your old homestead?