We moved from Vacaville, California to Chico, California in 1994, so I could finish my AA Degrees in Language Arts and Social and Behavioral Science, and transfer to Chico State (aka: CSU-Chico), to get my BA in English. The design was to finish my Degree, do the teaching credential program, and come back to Vacaville. That it didn't work out was not surprising, but the prejudice against Conservative teachers was just beginning. I have a lot I'd like to forget about my experiences in Butte County (mainly Paradise, Chico, and Oroville), but I have some memories that will last a lifetime.
One such memory surrounds a gentleman by the name of Gary Burghoff. Gary is an actor, best known for his portrayal of the character "Walter (Radar) O'Reilly," in M*A*S*H, both in the motion picture, and for more than seven seasons in the TV series. Gary lived (lives) in Magalia, a little town just up the Skyway from Paradise. Magalia is a small place, mostly retirees and people who want to get away from the urbanity of urban life, a few shops, a gas station, but no real retail stores. The closest thing to that was K-Mart in Paradise. Both Mary and Tyffany took jobs there, right after we moved up to Paradise. Tyffany came home one day, and told us about an incident between the aforementioned Mr. Burghoff and a cashier at K-Mart that day. Apparently, the cashier said something like, "You were 'Radar,' right?" At which point Gary kind of lost his temper, because, "No one remembers [him] as Gary, just 'Radar'." Apparently, Gary had long viewed the character as a drag on his acting career, and finding it hard to find acting parts because he played the role.
I used to go up there, every so often, while I was in school, and when I graduated, I became a Department Manager there for Sports, Toys, and Lay-Away. While my employment there is one of the things I'd like to forget, it did give me an opportunity to get to know Gary, a little. He'd come through the store, browsing around, looking at stuff that barely moved during the 15 months I worked there, a couple of times a week. Some of the employees used to think it was to find someone to call him "Radar," so he could vent.
I have never been "star-struck," or in any way am I awed by being in the presence of celebrities. When you've spent as much time with people with real power, actors, musicians, and such just don't seem so imposing. Gary Burghoff is the very definition of unimposing. I made a habit of seeing him, whenever he came into the store, and over a period of several months, we developed a bit of friendship. It got to where he'd come into the store looking for me, to come by and just "chat" for a couple of minutes.
One afternoon, as I was leaving the store, I ran into Gary in the parking lot. We greeted each other and shook hands, and I was moved by the urge to talk to him about his alter-ego, Radar. We had gotten close enough that he didn't "blow up," it helped that that was the first time I'd ever said the name to him. Because of what Tyffany had said, I figured I'd do it his way, and hope that I'd get a chance (and the nerve) to tell him how I felt about Radar. Now that I was making the opportunity happen, it was just really wonderful how it all turned out. I could tell that this wasn't one of Gary's favorite topics, and he tried to avoid it, but I wasn't going to lose an opportunity to say something he needed to hear.
I started by listening to him, and hearing his frustration at not being able to work because he was irreparably tied to the character of Radar. I sympathized, knowing what it's like to be seen as something (or someone) I'm not, and that I hate any system which fails to allow for any growth. That got his attention, so I said, "Let me tell you what 'Radar' means to me."
I told him that when the series started, I thought it was really cool that they brought Gary Burghoff over from the feature film to play the part of "Radar" (he was the only actor so honored), because the character was important to the flow of things. In the midst of all that insanity, a young guy from a small town, held one of the most important jobs, and kept that unit running. As the series developed, "Radar" gained even more importance, but it never really interfered with his home-spun wisdom, nor did it steal his innocence.
When the series came out, I was a young guy from a small town, who held important jobs, and while I didn't keep my unit running, I continually surprised my supervisors with my ability to anticipate questions, and to readily supply the correct answers, just like "Radar". Unfortunately, my experiences robbed me of any innocence I may have retained, but "Radar" was someone I could look up to.
I told him, that 20 years from then, 1998, people would remember "Radar," and probably remember the guy, Gary Burghoff, who played him. No one would remember that I had once been the manager of three departments at K-Mart in Paradise.
After that chat, I think Gary changed. I am happy if I had any part in it.
Saturday, December 8, 2018
Monday, October 15, 2018
Callipygian...
To start, this is a definition from an old Webster's New World Dictionary, copyright 1972:
"cal*li*pyg*I*an (kal'ə pij'ə an) adj. [Gr. kallipygos < kallos, beauty + pyge, buttocks] having shapely buttocks."
It's hard to know, exactly, when I learned this word. I'm going to say it was 1974, or so. I do remember who it was that introduced me to it, a guy I worked with named Angelo Olivo (such a good Irish name...). We were walking past the "Quarterdeck" (actually the main entrance to Fleet Combat Direction Systems Training Center, San Diego), and Angie stopped at a big, unabridged dictionary that stood on a pedestal on the Quarterdeck. "Lemme show you a great word."
I would chuckle throughout the day, thinking about this addition to my vocabulary, but the unspoken challenge, "Now try to use it appropriately" kept coming to mind. How does one use the word? What variations are there? Most modern dictionaries do not contain the word, and Rogert's Thesaurus has no synonyms. It would be considered "sexist" today, yet the word is not gender-specific.
See, I love words. I love to ponder them, look at them, understand their origins, to take them apart and see what they're made of. I was raised to be a reader. I read Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, when I was seven, and could have passed any high school test even then. In 1964, I did one book report on James A. Michner's Hawaii, and another on Arthur Slessinger's The Thousand Days, a non-fiction report of John F. Kennedy's administration, and the assassination in Dallas. My 8th grade English teacher thought that I'd fail on both, but was very surprised to get clear and concise reviews of both. That more than made up for not doing much else, I've never really "done" homework, too mundane, too mind-numbing. Reading assignments, OK, but answering questions? Particularly the really stupid ones they put in textbooks... But I digress...
For six years, I carried this great word with me and didn't have an opportunity to use it. To someone like me, it was like an itch that can't be scratched. Just under the skin, you know it's there, but you just can't see it. I finally found suitable variants like "callipygic," which fit better as an "-ic" than an "-an," and opened up an opportunity for me to use it. The opportunity came when it was decided that I would "first draft" annual evaluations for the E5's and below. I did a number of them, and got to an E3 named "Jackie". Jackie was from Paris, Texas, and lived a few blocks from the bar made famous by the movie "Urban Cowboy". Petite, blond, cute as all get-out, with this great Texas accent, Jackie was an outstanding worker, and a credit to women in uniform.
In the late 1970's and early 1980's, one of the criteria in the written evaluation was to describe the personal appearance of the person being evaluated, both in uniform as well as civilian clothing. I'm starting to write the words, "[Jackie]'s personal appearance, both in uniform as well as civilian clothing is..." After six years, I was a little slow on the uptake, and didn't see the opportunity for what it was.
I was stationed at the Enlisted Personnel Management and Accounting Center (EPMAC), New Orleans, LA. The fact that I was doing draft evals of anyone was something new. I was a fairly senior E6, but above me in the Chain of Command was an E7 who was 3 units short of his BA in Personnel Management, an E9 with a PhD in Human Behavior and Leadership, an O2 with a BA in business, and an O5 with an MBA. At the time, I was just a high school grad, who liked to play with words.
OK, I finally got it, erased the sentence, and re-wrote it, "[Jackie] presents a very callipygic appearance both in uniform and civilian clothing." I stuck it in the middle of the pile, and turned everything over to the Chief. He went through them, made a few modifications, and sent it on to the Master Chief. "Massa" (long story, but he said to address him that way), did the same, and passed them on to the LTjg, who passed them on to the Commander. Seven days later, I'm at my desk, focused on a task, and a piece of paper with a red circle on it is thrust in front of my face by a hand connected to three gold braids on a blue sleeve, the Commander. I turn to him, "Sir? May I help you?"
The Commander points to the red circle on the page, and says, very sternly, "You can't say that in an eval."
It just so happened that Jackie was, at that very moment, standing bent-over a desk, writing a phone call note for someone. I looked over my shoulder, turned back to the Commander, and said, "It's true."
I watched the Commander's eyes, so I know he looked, but he points at the red circle again and says, "Yeah. But you can't say that in an evaluation," and we both started laughing.
I told him that I did it, knowing full-well that someone would catch it, at some point. The fact that it originated from a guy with a high school diploma, and passed through three college-educated people before it got caught was not lost on my Department Head.
I voluntarily told the young lady involved what I had done, and had her look the word up so she'd know I wasn't making something up. She laughed, half turned, and looked towards her rear, and said, "Shapely? That's certainly nice of y'all, but I always thought it was too skinny."
I suppose that I can no longer run for public office (not that I've ever considered it), having admitted to making a joke about a woman's butt.
"cal*li*pyg*I*an (kal'ə pij'ə an) adj. [Gr. kallipygos < kallos, beauty + pyge, buttocks] having shapely buttocks."
It's hard to know, exactly, when I learned this word. I'm going to say it was 1974, or so. I do remember who it was that introduced me to it, a guy I worked with named Angelo Olivo (such a good Irish name...). We were walking past the "Quarterdeck" (actually the main entrance to Fleet Combat Direction Systems Training Center, San Diego), and Angie stopped at a big, unabridged dictionary that stood on a pedestal on the Quarterdeck. "Lemme show you a great word."
I would chuckle throughout the day, thinking about this addition to my vocabulary, but the unspoken challenge, "Now try to use it appropriately" kept coming to mind. How does one use the word? What variations are there? Most modern dictionaries do not contain the word, and Rogert's Thesaurus has no synonyms. It would be considered "sexist" today, yet the word is not gender-specific.
See, I love words. I love to ponder them, look at them, understand their origins, to take them apart and see what they're made of. I was raised to be a reader. I read Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, when I was seven, and could have passed any high school test even then. In 1964, I did one book report on James A. Michner's Hawaii, and another on Arthur Slessinger's The Thousand Days, a non-fiction report of John F. Kennedy's administration, and the assassination in Dallas. My 8th grade English teacher thought that I'd fail on both, but was very surprised to get clear and concise reviews of both. That more than made up for not doing much else, I've never really "done" homework, too mundane, too mind-numbing. Reading assignments, OK, but answering questions? Particularly the really stupid ones they put in textbooks... But I digress...
For six years, I carried this great word with me and didn't have an opportunity to use it. To someone like me, it was like an itch that can't be scratched. Just under the skin, you know it's there, but you just can't see it. I finally found suitable variants like "callipygic," which fit better as an "-ic" than an "-an," and opened up an opportunity for me to use it. The opportunity came when it was decided that I would "first draft" annual evaluations for the E5's and below. I did a number of them, and got to an E3 named "Jackie". Jackie was from Paris, Texas, and lived a few blocks from the bar made famous by the movie "Urban Cowboy". Petite, blond, cute as all get-out, with this great Texas accent, Jackie was an outstanding worker, and a credit to women in uniform.
In the late 1970's and early 1980's, one of the criteria in the written evaluation was to describe the personal appearance of the person being evaluated, both in uniform as well as civilian clothing. I'm starting to write the words, "[Jackie]'s personal appearance, both in uniform as well as civilian clothing is..." After six years, I was a little slow on the uptake, and didn't see the opportunity for what it was.
I was stationed at the Enlisted Personnel Management and Accounting Center (EPMAC), New Orleans, LA. The fact that I was doing draft evals of anyone was something new. I was a fairly senior E6, but above me in the Chain of Command was an E7 who was 3 units short of his BA in Personnel Management, an E9 with a PhD in Human Behavior and Leadership, an O2 with a BA in business, and an O5 with an MBA. At the time, I was just a high school grad, who liked to play with words.
OK, I finally got it, erased the sentence, and re-wrote it, "[Jackie] presents a very callipygic appearance both in uniform and civilian clothing." I stuck it in the middle of the pile, and turned everything over to the Chief. He went through them, made a few modifications, and sent it on to the Master Chief. "Massa" (long story, but he said to address him that way), did the same, and passed them on to the LTjg, who passed them on to the Commander. Seven days later, I'm at my desk, focused on a task, and a piece of paper with a red circle on it is thrust in front of my face by a hand connected to three gold braids on a blue sleeve, the Commander. I turn to him, "Sir? May I help you?"
The Commander points to the red circle on the page, and says, very sternly, "You can't say that in an eval."
It just so happened that Jackie was, at that very moment, standing bent-over a desk, writing a phone call note for someone. I looked over my shoulder, turned back to the Commander, and said, "It's true."
I watched the Commander's eyes, so I know he looked, but he points at the red circle again and says, "Yeah. But you can't say that in an evaluation," and we both started laughing.
I told him that I did it, knowing full-well that someone would catch it, at some point. The fact that it originated from a guy with a high school diploma, and passed through three college-educated people before it got caught was not lost on my Department Head.
I voluntarily told the young lady involved what I had done, and had her look the word up so she'd know I wasn't making something up. She laughed, half turned, and looked towards her rear, and said, "Shapely? That's certainly nice of y'all, but I always thought it was too skinny."
I suppose that I can no longer run for public office (not that I've ever considered it), having admitted to making a joke about a woman's butt.
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Perhaps a New Tact...
...Maybe I'll try publishing a blog entry once per week. I think I can vividly remember seven days, don't you think? I mean I am getting pretty stinking old... 67, and that was over a month ago... eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek! For someone who always believed that he'd be dead before he turned 30, reaching 67 still comes as somewhat of a surprise.
Let's see, since Monday, August 16, 2018, I've played three rounds of golf, did some housework, played Lego City: Undercover for several hours, taken about three one-hour naps, cleaned my RAV4's headlight cover (by the way, if you're car's headlamps aren't really fogged due to oxidation of the plastic, you can keep them clean by taking Soft Scrub, water in a spray bottle, and two rags, infinitely cheaper than the $40 they charge at the car wash), sprayed all of the door and window edges with bug spray (now that Green Tree is no longer spraying, the bug population in Leisure Town has exploded), and a couple of other things that probably aren't appropriate for my blog.
In short, it's been a busy, yet enjoyably restful week. The three rounds of golf are becoming status quo for the "Three Amigos" (Bill Case, John Baranowski, and myself). Bill and I have a Monday, Wednesday, Friday rhythm going, John plays almost every day, somewhere, but he plays with Bill and me on Wednesdays and Fridays (mostly). John is 11 months and a day older than me, Bill is 16 months older, so I'm the young-un when we play. John is also an 8 handicap golfer, Bill is a 25, and I'm somewhere between 18 and 22. I was, long ago, a 9, but that ended with my stroke in '02. I forgot to mention that we've all known each other for over 50 years, much longer than I like to admit.
Lego City: Undercover is my little "secret pleasure". I can lose 2, 3 hours playing the PS4 version, trying to find places where the designers hid stuff. On the surface, I'm on Level 15, I have all of the people, with all of the skills I need to go anywhere in the Lego City complex, except the statue in the Harbor. I put it on mute, sometimes, and listen to some music, and have my characters run around, trying to find all of the little doo-dads. I'm supposed to be rescuing my old girlfriend, Natalia, but she's on a space ship, headed for the moon, and the ship can't leave until I get there. It's really good for hand/eye coordination (which helps in golf), and it keeps me mentally active, trying to figure out how to get to the items I find in the game. Seriously, if you're afraid you are deteriorating mentally, try gaming. Most of the games are violent, or have some aspect of violence associated with playing. Lego City allows you to stun people, and run over them with vehicles, but they get back up, or, since your character (Chase McCain) is an undercover policeman, get arrested. There are fights, where you must use your Karate skills to subdue gang members, but they must be arrested (handcuffed) if you are to proceed.
The one-hour naps are great. Usually done on golf days, because it takes a lot out of me to play 18 holes of golf anymore. I will play nine holes, very occasionally, like when I've been ill, or sore, or tired, or whatever, I'm not such a purist to only play 18 hole rounds. In fact, I am such a non-traditionalist, that I've created my own golf association, The "Old Hippie's Golf Association," or the OHGA.
The first rule of the OHGA is that if you aren't enjoying yourself, you should go and be miserable somewhere else. The second rule is that the Rules of Golf, as determined by the members of the Royal and Olden, and the USGA, are merely guidelines, as often, their use as a means of determining penalties violates the spirit of the first rule.
Now you know why I like to play golf. I'm not playing for anything, I don't report my scores to anyone, and I'm way beyond playing in tournaments. I used to play for the walking, but since I can no longer walk 7,000 yards anymore, I play because it's always been a part of me. People call what I'm doing "cheating," and I say, it's only cheating if the score really means something. The way we play, it's more like fun. After all, "If you aren't enjoying yourself..."
Let's see, since Monday, August 16, 2018, I've played three rounds of golf, did some housework, played Lego City: Undercover for several hours, taken about three one-hour naps, cleaned my RAV4's headlight cover (by the way, if you're car's headlamps aren't really fogged due to oxidation of the plastic, you can keep them clean by taking Soft Scrub, water in a spray bottle, and two rags, infinitely cheaper than the $40 they charge at the car wash), sprayed all of the door and window edges with bug spray (now that Green Tree is no longer spraying, the bug population in Leisure Town has exploded), and a couple of other things that probably aren't appropriate for my blog.
In short, it's been a busy, yet enjoyably restful week. The three rounds of golf are becoming status quo for the "Three Amigos" (Bill Case, John Baranowski, and myself). Bill and I have a Monday, Wednesday, Friday rhythm going, John plays almost every day, somewhere, but he plays with Bill and me on Wednesdays and Fridays (mostly). John is 11 months and a day older than me, Bill is 16 months older, so I'm the young-un when we play. John is also an 8 handicap golfer, Bill is a 25, and I'm somewhere between 18 and 22. I was, long ago, a 9, but that ended with my stroke in '02. I forgot to mention that we've all known each other for over 50 years, much longer than I like to admit.
Lego City: Undercover is my little "secret pleasure". I can lose 2, 3 hours playing the PS4 version, trying to find places where the designers hid stuff. On the surface, I'm on Level 15, I have all of the people, with all of the skills I need to go anywhere in the Lego City complex, except the statue in the Harbor. I put it on mute, sometimes, and listen to some music, and have my characters run around, trying to find all of the little doo-dads. I'm supposed to be rescuing my old girlfriend, Natalia, but she's on a space ship, headed for the moon, and the ship can't leave until I get there. It's really good for hand/eye coordination (which helps in golf), and it keeps me mentally active, trying to figure out how to get to the items I find in the game. Seriously, if you're afraid you are deteriorating mentally, try gaming. Most of the games are violent, or have some aspect of violence associated with playing. Lego City allows you to stun people, and run over them with vehicles, but they get back up, or, since your character (Chase McCain) is an undercover policeman, get arrested. There are fights, where you must use your Karate skills to subdue gang members, but they must be arrested (handcuffed) if you are to proceed.
The one-hour naps are great. Usually done on golf days, because it takes a lot out of me to play 18 holes of golf anymore. I will play nine holes, very occasionally, like when I've been ill, or sore, or tired, or whatever, I'm not such a purist to only play 18 hole rounds. In fact, I am such a non-traditionalist, that I've created my own golf association, The "Old Hippie's Golf Association," or the OHGA.
The first rule of the OHGA is that if you aren't enjoying yourself, you should go and be miserable somewhere else. The second rule is that the Rules of Golf, as determined by the members of the Royal and Olden, and the USGA, are merely guidelines, as often, their use as a means of determining penalties violates the spirit of the first rule.
Now you know why I like to play golf. I'm not playing for anything, I don't report my scores to anyone, and I'm way beyond playing in tournaments. I used to play for the walking, but since I can no longer walk 7,000 yards anymore, I play because it's always been a part of me. People call what I'm doing "cheating," and I say, it's only cheating if the score really means something. The way we play, it's more like fun. After all, "If you aren't enjoying yourself..."
Sunday, April 1, 2018
No April Fooling...
We are somewhere around 23 degrees 34' 20" N, 81 degrees 38' 47" W, placing us directly North of Havana, Cuba. We're traveling on a course of 261 at a little over 36 knots. Tomorrow morning, we will dock in Cozumel, Mary and I will spend most of 6 hours on a beach/ snorkeling excursion, and return to the ship (hopefully not too sunburned) for an overnight sailing to Belize. We're going to rest-up on Tuesday, visit Mahogany Bay (on the Isla Roatan, off the coast of Honduras, where we will again spend some time on the beach there, on Wednesday. Thursday is Costa Maya, where we will, again, be spending the day aboard this wonderful ship, before spending another day (Friday) transiting back to Port Canaveral, FL, and a full afternoon/evening on American Airlines, Orlando-to-DFW-to-Sacramento. It's been quite a full 5 days, so far, with 6 days left.
It took a lot for this old Sailor to go on another Cruise, but this has been great fun, so far. The Carnival Magic is a great ship, a totally different way of "plying the oceans blue". When this is over, and we've had some time to regroup (and recoup), I might even think about going on another...
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Vacation Anxiety
OK, I admit it, I'm excited about going on a ship. As a career Navy guy, I vowed to never set foot on any "boat" ever again, unless it was on a lake. When we were offered this wonderful gift from our eldest child, it was a little before Christmas, and nothing was certain, except that we would be going on an 11-day trip that included a 7-day Western Caribbean Cruise. In January we learned that it would be around our 44th Wedding Anniversary in March, and we started to make a few plans.
The original stateroom on the Carnival Magic was an "ocean view" room, which meant it may have a window, or a porthole, but for a price, we could upgrade to a "balcony room," which has a glass door that opens on a patio...
...in all my times at sea, I've never had accommodations like this, so you can see I'm getting a little excited about this trip... It was like a "no brainer".
Next, we started looking for "easy" excursions in some of the ports that Magic would visit in the 5 days of "port hopping" from Cozumel, to Belize, to Isla Roatan, to Costa Maya in Mexico, and decided to do a couple of beach days in Cozumel and the Isla Roatan (Mahogany Bay). There were a lot of other things to choose from, but no matter how good of shape I'm in, I'm going on 67 years old, and I've had strokes, cancer, hip and back surgeries, and I'm not a young man anymore. Some of the excursions required a lot of exertion, and I'm really not going on this vacation to "work up a good sweat". Since there were no golf excursions, and tons of stuff to do on the ship, we decided to take the time to relax, stay on board, and play.
My undying appreciation to our daughter Tyffany, and husband Peter, for their generosity in making this all possible.
The original stateroom on the Carnival Magic was an "ocean view" room, which meant it may have a window, or a porthole, but for a price, we could upgrade to a "balcony room," which has a glass door that opens on a patio...
Next, we started looking for "easy" excursions in some of the ports that Magic would visit in the 5 days of "port hopping" from Cozumel, to Belize, to Isla Roatan, to Costa Maya in Mexico, and decided to do a couple of beach days in Cozumel and the Isla Roatan (Mahogany Bay). There were a lot of other things to choose from, but no matter how good of shape I'm in, I'm going on 67 years old, and I've had strokes, cancer, hip and back surgeries, and I'm not a young man anymore. Some of the excursions required a lot of exertion, and I'm really not going on this vacation to "work up a good sweat". Since there were no golf excursions, and tons of stuff to do on the ship, we decided to take the time to relax, stay on board, and play.
My undying appreciation to our daughter Tyffany, and husband Peter, for their generosity in making this all possible.
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
On a Perfect Tuesday in February 2018
I'm not sure what it is... Maybe it's the fact that it's Feb. 6, and it's 77 degrees out on my front patio... Maybe it was playing golf yesterday, wishing I'd brought shorts with me... Most likely it's because we're 2 mos. beyond the Winter Solstice, and I'm coming out of my doldrums, but I have realized, through no fault or achievement of mine, that I am EXACTLY where I hoped I would be at age 66.
I'm not bragging, or trying to create a fantasy to cover for a miserable existence, but once I grew-up, and actually started thinking about where I wanted my life to go, I saw myself being in Vacaville (yeah, OK, I have pretty low standards), having my family nearby. I always hoped that I would be able to live a comfortable life, with the lady I love, and maybe travel a little. There were never any thoughts about becoming "wealthy," in the sense of having lots of money and "stuff," but to have the things we need, a few "creature comforts," but otherwise a nice simple life. I used to joke that after I retired, I wanted to become the World's Lowest-paid Professional Golfer, because everybody chases after the big money winners, so I could live outside the limelight.
My reality... I've lived in a house longer than at ANY time in my life. Nine years at the same address. To a retired sailor, and son of a retired sailor, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around it. I think the "adventure bug" nibbles at both Mary and I, from time-to-time, but Vacaville is Home, and I've never really had a home before. My daughters live close by, my son has chosen to estrange himself from the rest of us, but that's OK, because none of us can stand the bitch he's married to...
We have, "... sufficient for our needs..." and do not require food stamps, or other such programs, to get by. My Navy retirement, disability compensation from the VA, and Social Security are providing for everything we need, and we are putting money away, as well. We are free to travel, and do, a couple of times a year, since our eldest, Tyffany, has her aunt Pat's luck on deals, and has more points on her Timeshare than she can use... We went to Cabo San Lucas in May 2017, and to San Diego, twice, once in July 2017, and once this past January. This March (next month), we will be off to Orlando, FL, for a couple of days at Disney World, then a 7-day Western Caribbean cruise, in a Balcony Room aboard the Carnival Magic.
I never thought about this sh*t... I spent 3-years on an Aircraft Carrier, and 3 more on a Sub Tender, so I've never been in a big rush to go on "a cruise". Now I can't wait...
Getting back to the original point, I am EXACTLY where I thought I'd be, EXACTLY where I hoped I'd be, and EXACTLY where I belong. I am with my best friend in the entire world, and retirement has done nothing but make us better friends.
Mary is so flipping amazing... Hardly a day goes by without me being awed by the woman I love with all my heart. She's the same generous, loving, and faithful girl I married almost 44 years ago, but then again, she is so much more, too... She's a great Mom, an even better Grandma, and remains alone as the Nicest Person I've Ever Met.
Saturday, February 3, 2018
A Conservative Rant, February 2018
I refuse to apologize for being a Conservative. I admit to the fact that, at one point in my life, I had a very liberal leaning, but I grew up, damn it, and learned, first hand, that the liberal ideal is nothing but folly. It is a non-sustaining entity. Nothing can advance if the industrious are forced to support the lazy and the educated to take care of the ignorant. Pure Communism doesn't work, that's been proven by the fall of the USSR. Other Communistic countries are adapting economically, and are no longer purely Communist.
Liberals believe in change for change's sake. Many are now expressing their contempt for the very thing that gives them the freedom to express their contempt. The Constitution may be 240 years old, but it's wisdom guides our everyday lives. It's been Amended, interpreted, stretched, and even torn, but it is a "living" document, that grows and breathes, and is the heartbeat of this that we call America.
Most recently, we have had a "memo" regarding abuses of power in the FBI, and the Obama-era Department of Justice. The "memo" outlines how senior FBI officials convinced a FISA court to wire-tap a candidate for President during the campaign, using libelous information from a foreign source, paid for by the opposing candidate, as their reason. Liberals decried the release of this "memo," citing the end of our intelligence assets, and a governmental Armageddon. These dire warnings, perhaps more than anything, are the cause for an almost 700 point drop in the Dow Jones Average. Since the market has grown over 8,000 points in the past year, most economists view this as a necessary market correction.
Ever since Donald Trump won the election, over 15 months ago, Liberals have been in an unprecedented rage. They were so absolutely, 100 %, F-ing A., sure that Hillary would win, they've lost not only an election, but their collective mind (not "minds"). Ever Liberal you hear interviewed spews nothing but hate for our President, every news agency (except for a few), in lock-step with their masters, question the President's every move, and never... NEVER say a single positive thing about him. Had the Liberal media treated Obama this way, we'd have had a race war of epic proportions.
It is absolutely disgraceful that elected officials speak about the President of the United States in such terms as "liar," or "racist". Further, it is disgraceful for anyone, citizen or non-, to kneel during any Nation's anthem, let alone ours. In the first case, the guilty politicians should be fired, in the second case, pick a freaking cause, or get on your feet, and remember, the people who bought the tickets came to see a sport, not a political statement. We salute our flag in remembrance of those who's blood has paid the price for our freedom. We salute the flag because it is an emblem of our unity, that "Americans" are all colors, all religions, all cultures, and come from every other nation on Earth; yet, when the times require it, we will stand united in defense of our freedom.
I guess I just don't understand the hate, the enormous vitriol towards the man elected President. I've never been a fan of Barrack Obama, and the list of things he did that offended me personally is very long, but I did not hate him. I never wanted to see America fail, just so he wouldn't succeed. And this is the lengths to which Liberals would go, they risk government shut-down in favor of protecting a few hundred thousand children under DACA, that aren't here legally in the first place. I sympathize, I know they didn't have a choice, but that doesn't remove the fact that they were brought her ILLEGALLY in the first place. I agree with President Trump, there should be a path to citizenship for these children, not outright citizenship. I would add a provision that the DACA path be applicable to the children only, and that it would exclude any of the DACA children convicted of a felony prior to obtaining citizenship, gang members, and other forms of criminal activity. Particularly, it would not be applicable, even if chain migration survives, to the parents, who committed a crime in coming here in the first count, and bringing their families in the second.
If this sounds cruel, it is, kind of. The parents are guilty of a crime against our sovereignty, and, by law, will be deported. Anyone who comes under DACA must make a choice, freedom or family. It is a choice my ancestors had to make, and it would be an excellent indicator as to who actually wanted to be here. Freedom ain't free, there are sacrifices to be made for the freedom we live in. Perhaps, after a prescribed time, visas could be granted for short periods, and the families could visit, but there would be no amnesty for past criminal activity against the border, and the parents would have to return. See, my ancestors came, mostly, to work the coal mines of Pennsylvania in the latter part of the 19th Century. They came, legally, in ships, in effect cutting off all ties with family and friends, to be "Americans," and to learn what it meant to be really free. They sacrificed all they knew for citizenship, can the ones who are demanding it today do any less?
And that's another thing... who do these DACA kids think they are? They are not, currently, citizens, so their demands are baseless. They have no, none, zero status. They can demand NOTHING. The US, on the other hand, has the power to allow them to become citizens, so they better think twice about participation in anti-government demonstrations... it's just a thought...
Liberals believe in change for change's sake. Many are now expressing their contempt for the very thing that gives them the freedom to express their contempt. The Constitution may be 240 years old, but it's wisdom guides our everyday lives. It's been Amended, interpreted, stretched, and even torn, but it is a "living" document, that grows and breathes, and is the heartbeat of this that we call America.
Most recently, we have had a "memo" regarding abuses of power in the FBI, and the Obama-era Department of Justice. The "memo" outlines how senior FBI officials convinced a FISA court to wire-tap a candidate for President during the campaign, using libelous information from a foreign source, paid for by the opposing candidate, as their reason. Liberals decried the release of this "memo," citing the end of our intelligence assets, and a governmental Armageddon. These dire warnings, perhaps more than anything, are the cause for an almost 700 point drop in the Dow Jones Average. Since the market has grown over 8,000 points in the past year, most economists view this as a necessary market correction.
Ever since Donald Trump won the election, over 15 months ago, Liberals have been in an unprecedented rage. They were so absolutely, 100 %, F-ing A., sure that Hillary would win, they've lost not only an election, but their collective mind (not "minds"). Ever Liberal you hear interviewed spews nothing but hate for our President, every news agency (except for a few), in lock-step with their masters, question the President's every move, and never... NEVER say a single positive thing about him. Had the Liberal media treated Obama this way, we'd have had a race war of epic proportions.
It is absolutely disgraceful that elected officials speak about the President of the United States in such terms as "liar," or "racist". Further, it is disgraceful for anyone, citizen or non-, to kneel during any Nation's anthem, let alone ours. In the first case, the guilty politicians should be fired, in the second case, pick a freaking cause, or get on your feet, and remember, the people who bought the tickets came to see a sport, not a political statement. We salute our flag in remembrance of those who's blood has paid the price for our freedom. We salute the flag because it is an emblem of our unity, that "Americans" are all colors, all religions, all cultures, and come from every other nation on Earth; yet, when the times require it, we will stand united in defense of our freedom.
I guess I just don't understand the hate, the enormous vitriol towards the man elected President. I've never been a fan of Barrack Obama, and the list of things he did that offended me personally is very long, but I did not hate him. I never wanted to see America fail, just so he wouldn't succeed. And this is the lengths to which Liberals would go, they risk government shut-down in favor of protecting a few hundred thousand children under DACA, that aren't here legally in the first place. I sympathize, I know they didn't have a choice, but that doesn't remove the fact that they were brought her ILLEGALLY in the first place. I agree with President Trump, there should be a path to citizenship for these children, not outright citizenship. I would add a provision that the DACA path be applicable to the children only, and that it would exclude any of the DACA children convicted of a felony prior to obtaining citizenship, gang members, and other forms of criminal activity. Particularly, it would not be applicable, even if chain migration survives, to the parents, who committed a crime in coming here in the first count, and bringing their families in the second.
If this sounds cruel, it is, kind of. The parents are guilty of a crime against our sovereignty, and, by law, will be deported. Anyone who comes under DACA must make a choice, freedom or family. It is a choice my ancestors had to make, and it would be an excellent indicator as to who actually wanted to be here. Freedom ain't free, there are sacrifices to be made for the freedom we live in. Perhaps, after a prescribed time, visas could be granted for short periods, and the families could visit, but there would be no amnesty for past criminal activity against the border, and the parents would have to return. See, my ancestors came, mostly, to work the coal mines of Pennsylvania in the latter part of the 19th Century. They came, legally, in ships, in effect cutting off all ties with family and friends, to be "Americans," and to learn what it meant to be really free. They sacrificed all they knew for citizenship, can the ones who are demanding it today do any less?
And that's another thing... who do these DACA kids think they are? They are not, currently, citizens, so their demands are baseless. They have no, none, zero status. They can demand NOTHING. The US, on the other hand, has the power to allow them to become citizens, so they better think twice about participation in anti-government demonstrations... it's just a thought...
Monday, January 8, 2018
Freshly Back From a Week in San Diego...
... Actually, not-so-freshly, we've been home for a couple of days, but I'm still a bit stunned from the 8-hour drive. It's been six months since we did that drive, the last time in July, when we went to a couple of Giants vs. Padres games at Petco Park for my birthday. Every time I make that drive, and I've done it fairly often over the past 10 years, I realize how much I despise I-5 through the valley, the Grapevine, and LA. Only one time have I ever gotten through LA without sitting in traffic... July 16, 2011, the day after my 60th Birthday, and the last day I smoked cigarettes. It's a story I haven't shared on my blog, to this point, but I think it's time I did.
I drove down on July 14, meeting-up with my son, and his family. I wanted to go to a Giants game on my birthday, they were down in San Diego, the Navy Lodge was close to Petco, so I offered to take my son and his then 15 year old stepson to the game with me. I had planned on quitting cigarettes, and was wearing the Nicoderm patch when I started out. After the game, I was alone in my room, watching the 11 o'clock news, and all of the coverage concerned the closing of a major freeway through LA, to demolish an old bridge on I-10. They called it "Carmageddon," and predicted gridlock to be wide spread in LA the next morning.
While watching the news, I noticed that I had voicemail on the Lodge's phone, so I picked it up, and punched in the retrieval numbers. It was Mary, calling from David Grant Medical Center, where she had been admitted for a heart related problem. She said "it was no big deal, just a minor thing," but I was scared nonetheless. I tried to lay down and sleep, but Carmageddon and Mary in the hospital kept me wide awake. Realizing I wasn't going to get any sleep, I called my son to tell him I wouldn't be over in the morning, and that because his mom was in the hospital, I was going to check-out and go home, it was a little before midnight. I checked out, drove around to a gas station, filled up, got a cup of some really bad coffee, took the nicoderm patch off, bought a pack of smokes, and hit the highway.
I was hoping that I could get through LA without any problems, so I got on I-5, set my Cruise Control at 75, and didn't have to break or slow down even once. I hit LA at about 2:15 am, and no one was on the road. I fairly flew through the metropolis, and got to the North side of the Grapevine by 4 am. Admittedly, I was really tired, but between the coffee and the cigarettes (which I chain-smoked) helped to keep me focused. I got to the parking lot at DGMC about 7:30 in the morning, making it a 7 hour trip, during which I smoked the entire pack of Pall Mall filters, crushing the last one out in the parking lot.
To this day, I haven't smoked another cigarette. Not only that, but I haven't craved one, and personally find the smell of cigarette smoke (either in the air, or on a person's clothing) offensive. I told myself, long before, that if I ever quit, I wouldn't be an A-hole about it, and "bust anyone's chops" over their habit. I know how I felt when people (mostly ex-smokers) started mouthing off, and I wasn't going to be one of those. I'm not, either. I know how hard it is to kick the smoking habit, I know how painful the cravings get, and while I finally quit, I know that it absolutely MUST be a personal choice on the part of the person smoking. I try to support people I know who are trying to quit, and to encourage them in their endeavor, but I don't get bummed if they go back. I was fortunate, and downright lucky to have gotten away from that monkey, but it isn't without it's scars...
Right before I quit, I had a CT scan on my chest, and it disclosed that I had a series of 5 "nodules" in the upper lobe of my left lung. That was one of the reasons I wanted to quit, and was using the patches (the other reason was that I had smoked cigarettes for 50 years). I got calls from the Heart, Lung, Vascular Clinic every six months, setting up CT scans, and follow-up appointments with Dr. Jason Williams. Two years after I quit, I get the CT, and schedule an appointment with Dr. Williams on the same day as an Epidural Steroid Injection from Dr. Dave Gover (one of my most treasured friends). While I am in the IR Clinic, Dr. Dave asked me if I'd like him to look at the CT results, and tell me in advance what Dr. Williams was going to tell me, and I said, "Sure."
If you've never been told that you have cancer, you just can't imagine how devastating that is, no matter how well you think you can. For a moment, my world stopped spinning, my mind went totally blank, and I was stunned to silence. Dr. Dave, who's had to give that diagnosis to people before, got a concerned look on his face, and asked, "Are you OK?"
It took a minute or two to wrap my mind around what I had been told, but I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "How do we beat this?"
Dr. Dave explained that there were a couple of things working for me, one being the fact that it was detected early, and the other being that it was only in the upper lobe of my left lung, and that there were a couple of things Dr. Williams could do, remove the cancerous section of the lung, or remove the upper lobe of the left lung entirely. I was hoping for the first, but it turned out to be the other, so on October 29, 2013, I underwent a Left Upper Lobectomy. Follow up CT's have been negative, meaning that I have been cancer-free for 4+ years. The surgery was so successful, that it wasn't necessary for me to undergo chemo, or radiation therapies, for which I thank my Heavenly Father daily.
I drove down on July 14, meeting-up with my son, and his family. I wanted to go to a Giants game on my birthday, they were down in San Diego, the Navy Lodge was close to Petco, so I offered to take my son and his then 15 year old stepson to the game with me. I had planned on quitting cigarettes, and was wearing the Nicoderm patch when I started out. After the game, I was alone in my room, watching the 11 o'clock news, and all of the coverage concerned the closing of a major freeway through LA, to demolish an old bridge on I-10. They called it "Carmageddon," and predicted gridlock to be wide spread in LA the next morning.
While watching the news, I noticed that I had voicemail on the Lodge's phone, so I picked it up, and punched in the retrieval numbers. It was Mary, calling from David Grant Medical Center, where she had been admitted for a heart related problem. She said "it was no big deal, just a minor thing," but I was scared nonetheless. I tried to lay down and sleep, but Carmageddon and Mary in the hospital kept me wide awake. Realizing I wasn't going to get any sleep, I called my son to tell him I wouldn't be over in the morning, and that because his mom was in the hospital, I was going to check-out and go home, it was a little before midnight. I checked out, drove around to a gas station, filled up, got a cup of some really bad coffee, took the nicoderm patch off, bought a pack of smokes, and hit the highway.
I was hoping that I could get through LA without any problems, so I got on I-5, set my Cruise Control at 75, and didn't have to break or slow down even once. I hit LA at about 2:15 am, and no one was on the road. I fairly flew through the metropolis, and got to the North side of the Grapevine by 4 am. Admittedly, I was really tired, but between the coffee and the cigarettes (which I chain-smoked) helped to keep me focused. I got to the parking lot at DGMC about 7:30 in the morning, making it a 7 hour trip, during which I smoked the entire pack of Pall Mall filters, crushing the last one out in the parking lot.
To this day, I haven't smoked another cigarette. Not only that, but I haven't craved one, and personally find the smell of cigarette smoke (either in the air, or on a person's clothing) offensive. I told myself, long before, that if I ever quit, I wouldn't be an A-hole about it, and "bust anyone's chops" over their habit. I know how I felt when people (mostly ex-smokers) started mouthing off, and I wasn't going to be one of those. I'm not, either. I know how hard it is to kick the smoking habit, I know how painful the cravings get, and while I finally quit, I know that it absolutely MUST be a personal choice on the part of the person smoking. I try to support people I know who are trying to quit, and to encourage them in their endeavor, but I don't get bummed if they go back. I was fortunate, and downright lucky to have gotten away from that monkey, but it isn't without it's scars...
Right before I quit, I had a CT scan on my chest, and it disclosed that I had a series of 5 "nodules" in the upper lobe of my left lung. That was one of the reasons I wanted to quit, and was using the patches (the other reason was that I had smoked cigarettes for 50 years). I got calls from the Heart, Lung, Vascular Clinic every six months, setting up CT scans, and follow-up appointments with Dr. Jason Williams. Two years after I quit, I get the CT, and schedule an appointment with Dr. Williams on the same day as an Epidural Steroid Injection from Dr. Dave Gover (one of my most treasured friends). While I am in the IR Clinic, Dr. Dave asked me if I'd like him to look at the CT results, and tell me in advance what Dr. Williams was going to tell me, and I said, "Sure."
If you've never been told that you have cancer, you just can't imagine how devastating that is, no matter how well you think you can. For a moment, my world stopped spinning, my mind went totally blank, and I was stunned to silence. Dr. Dave, who's had to give that diagnosis to people before, got a concerned look on his face, and asked, "Are you OK?"
It took a minute or two to wrap my mind around what I had been told, but I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "How do we beat this?"
Dr. Dave explained that there were a couple of things working for me, one being the fact that it was detected early, and the other being that it was only in the upper lobe of my left lung, and that there were a couple of things Dr. Williams could do, remove the cancerous section of the lung, or remove the upper lobe of the left lung entirely. I was hoping for the first, but it turned out to be the other, so on October 29, 2013, I underwent a Left Upper Lobectomy. Follow up CT's have been negative, meaning that I have been cancer-free for 4+ years. The surgery was so successful, that it wasn't necessary for me to undergo chemo, or radiation therapies, for which I thank my Heavenly Father daily.
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