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.
Saturday, October 21, 2017
A Bowling Ramble...
I cannot remember when I was first taken to a "bowling alley". I know it was in the 1950's, so I was younger than 10... I'll never forget the place, it was on Mare Island Naval Shipyard, in a building called the Rodman Center. It was small, maybe six lanes, and still had manual pin-setting, where a guy would crouch behind a wall a foot, or two, behind the machine, clear away the downed pins, put them back in the Machine, and return the ball. Guys would do it for five cents per line (ten frames), per bowler. It is worth noting that in the mid-1950's, you could buy a tract-house for under $10,000, a car for under $1,000, and gas was between 10 and 20 cents per gallon. Mom and Dad would bowl once a week in a league.
The Rodman Center was a pretty cool place, though. It had a movie theater (that my dad worked at part-time), a gym, swimming pool, snack bar, barber shop, library, and a bunch of offices that never seemed to be open. The bowling alley was on the second floor, and was actually above the swimming pool. I always wondered if that had any effect on the wooden lanes...
When we moved to Vacaville, and actually got into our house, it was a quarter-mile (through the orchards behind us) from our house to Vaca Bowl. I started to hang out at the Bowl, and started getting to know a whole lot of people. One was a kid whose Dad managed the Bowl, and I got hired to be a Porter/Pin Chaser for $1.65 an hour. I'd work 20 hours a week, make $33 bucks a week (before taxes), somewhere around $45 every two weeks after. I soon found an easier way to make at least $25 per week (more with tips) tax-free cash money, and quit.
In the Fall of 1966, I got into the AJBC (American Junior Bowling Congress), became part of a three-man team, and competed. I was no novice, we'd gone bowling as a family many times, but it was the first time that it ever counted for anything... To be honest, I wasn't very good. I couldn't throw the ball the same way twice, and I didn't know [Schmidt] about the science of the game. I did like the competition and the game itself, so I started keeping score for league play, and watching people bowl from 6:30 to 11 pm. Sundays through Thursdays (that's how I made the $25 a week). I began to really watch the better bowlers, and started to notice similarities and differences, and increased my vocabulary by hundreds of Anglo-Saxon expletives. When I'd remember to try new things when I practiced, I started to develop a pretty good bowling form, and my average went from 100 - 110 to 150+ in a couple of years. I was pretty happy, my dad averaged 150, so we were competitive, and would often challenge each other. That was 1966 through '70.
Despite any rumors, U.S. Navy aircraft carriers do NOT have bowling alleys aboard, period. Therefore, I didn't bowl much from 1971 to 1974 (my tour of duty aboard USS INDEPENDENCE (CVA-62), I was either at sea, or drunk most of the time, so some time went by.
In 1975, I joined a team called "The Thugs" on a league for the folks at Fleet Combat Directions Systems Training Center, Pacific, or FCDSTCP (later shortened to FCTCP, the joke being that we lost Direction). We were in the league for a couple of years, and I joined a group of Electronic Warfare weenies on a team named "HEWS Corp" (short for "Heavy Electronic Warfare Specialist Corporation). After I joined, it became "HEWS +1," and I raised my average to the mid-160's, which was pretty good for a once-a-week bowler.
In 1979, I was transferred to New Orleans, LA, and we set up housing in Slidell, across the Causeway. I worked Fridays from 4 pm. to midnight, Saturdays from Noon to Midnight, and Sunday from Noon until the Naval Personnel Center, in Washington, DC, shut down for maintenance (usually sometime about 10 pm.). I was responsible for the weekend updates, ensuring that the proper set of programs ran in a set order, and dealing with anything that prevented the program from running effectively. Sometimes that meant calling a programmer at home, and getting the OK to run certain patches to these huge data dumps. I would kick off a weekend by scheduling a certain program to run on the DC IBM-360 computer system, which would, as a part of the program, call up other programs, or series of programs. This linked series would run for most of a weekend, and once set in motion, the Scheduler had nothing to do but check the operating status of the programs, noting when each completed with a Status Code of "0000". I was off, Monday thru Thursday totally, and until 4 pm on Fridays.
No one gets rich as an Enlisted man, and all too often (particularly in the late-'70's/early-'80's) there would be too much month at the end of the money. Many of us took part-time jobs, and I was not yet 30, so I looked for a bowling alley, thinking my knowledge of pin-setting machines might come in handy.
There were two bowling alleys in town, actually, Pontchartrain Lanes was a 24-lane establishment built into a former car dealership. The bar was literally in the Showroom, and was, in fact, called "The Showroom Lounge". The lanes were put over the old service-bay, with the pin-setters accessible either by climbing through the masking units, or going around to a door in the back. The back-end, the mechanic's office, wasn't insulated, and the only cooling unit was a "swamp cooler" that didn't cool. New Orleans is sort of on the Gulf Coast. In the summer, it gets really hot, and a favorite pastime is to see which will hit 100 first, the temperature or the humidity. Make no mistake, I think swamp coolers are great, we had one in a house in Vacaville, and darned-near froze to death one summer when it was 90 - 108 degrees outside, but less than 20% humidity. In the Gulf Coast area, a swamp cooler is just plain stupid.
When I walked in, the owner and two of his nephews had a handful of parts on the counter, and five pin-setters that didn't work. When I had the chance, I asked the owner if he was hiring, to which he replied, "I've got five lanes down, and a league coming at six. If you can get those lanes up, I'll hire you." I wish I could tell you I got them all, but I did get 4 out of the 5 up and running, and got the job as a mechanic. I worked during the day, Monday through Friday, and made some pretty good money on the side, in addition to my exorbitant military salary.
After awhile, the owner hired a real Head mechanic, a guy named Dave Forewood. Dave was a nice guy, a very good mechanic, and an excellent bowler. After work one night, I decided to see if I could substitute, or pace bowl for someone who was absent. It turned out, Dave had a team in the Men's League, and needed someone to bowl. That night, I rolled a 175 and a 182, but missed the first game, so I had a 357 series for two games, (an average of 178). Dave and the other guys on the team asked me if I wanted to fill the empty spot on their roster, and I agreed. The next week, I rolled my first-ever 600 series, a 608, all three games over 200. The following week I rolled my second 600 series, a 646, a little over 210 per game. I'd never bowled three games over 200, and I was on a streak of six-in-a-row. It didn't last, I ended the league with a 185 average, and started to do some practice during my lunch. Dave would come up front, and give me some tips. He said my mechanics were good, I just needed to find a "mark" (a spot on the lane) that I could hit consistently, and would take the ball to the headpin. He had me lined up with my left foot on the center dot on the approach, and swinging the ball out to the 10th board in from the right gutter (it's the second "arrow" from the right gutter). First ball was an 8-count, second, third, and fourth were 9-counts, a 5-pin, and two 7-pins. Before the fifth ball, Dave moved me a fraction to the right, not even half of a board, and hit the same mark. Fifth ball, strike, six, seven, eight, nine, all strikes.
That summer, during a league, I averaged 228, and shot my first 700 series, a 715, or an average of 238 for 3 games. It seemed like I would alternate, a big 600 series one week, a 700 the next. I got good enough to be invited to the opening of Don Carter Lanes in New Orleans, and take part in a Pro-Am. I was paired with a guy from Memphis, TN by the name of Steve Martin. It was an accident (that's what the tournament director said), but we hit it off immediately, and came in 3rd. I don't remember the name of the Pro on the lanes next to us, but he whined and bitched the whole time, and said that "Amateurs had no place bowling with Professionals."
By the end of the tournament, I was so sick of his BS, I called him out. "You're too f-ing good to play alongside regular people?" To which he answered, "I can beat you anytime, any place."
I flipped out. "You mean to tell me that you can come into MY house and beat ME?"
"Anytime, any place."
"OK, big guy, the time is 11 tonight, and the place is Pontchartrain Lanes. Bring money, lots of money. Cash only."
Long story short, I took him for 5 straight games, at $20 a game, so he decided to try a "double or nothing on the hundred bucks..." I took him for $200, and then $400, he decided to back down to just $100 per game. All told, I took $2,000 from him, and totally humiliated him.
1981 comes, and I get transferred to a Pre-Commissioning crew for USS MCKEE (AS-41), and didn't bowl again until '83, when I started a league in San Diego, and brought a team into the Naval Training Center, San Diego Varsity League. In '84, I was transferred back to FCTCP, rejoined that league, and was always fighting for the High Average award for the League. In '87, we moved to Monterey, CA, and I never had time to bowl, working 12-hour shifts, and working part-time at the Ft. Ord Golf Course.
After I retired from the Navy in 1991, I worked in bowling alleys full-time to help finance my full-time college studies, and support my family. Every once in a while, I'd bowl, but I didn't join a league again until 2002, when I joined a school district league here in Vacaville, at the bowling alley I helped build, and did OK. Of course, this was after a stroke in 2002, so bowling was more like physical therapy.
In 2004, I bowled in my last league. Another teacher's league, where I really started to get back to bowling 200's regularly. On the last night of the league, they had us bowling "Moonlight No-Tap," in the dark, where knocking down 9 pins counts as a strike. I had a 250-something, and a 279, going into the last game. I rolled a Perfect Game, 300, without using the No-Tap. A total of 12 strikes, regulation strikes. Two days later, the bowling alley closed, and I had to have a note to get my equipment out of a locker. Needless to say, I never got my 300 ring, and only got an 800 Series money clip because they had one at the desk. Neither accomplishment shows anywhere in the ABC records.
That's been it for me, bowling-wise. Back problems have prohibited me from playing, and I've sold everything but my bowling shoes. Now that my back problems are better, maybe I'll try it again. Not just now, though...
The Rodman Center was a pretty cool place, though. It had a movie theater (that my dad worked at part-time), a gym, swimming pool, snack bar, barber shop, library, and a bunch of offices that never seemed to be open. The bowling alley was on the second floor, and was actually above the swimming pool. I always wondered if that had any effect on the wooden lanes...
When we moved to Vacaville, and actually got into our house, it was a quarter-mile (through the orchards behind us) from our house to Vaca Bowl. I started to hang out at the Bowl, and started getting to know a whole lot of people. One was a kid whose Dad managed the Bowl, and I got hired to be a Porter/Pin Chaser for $1.65 an hour. I'd work 20 hours a week, make $33 bucks a week (before taxes), somewhere around $45 every two weeks after. I soon found an easier way to make at least $25 per week (more with tips) tax-free cash money, and quit.
In the Fall of 1966, I got into the AJBC (American Junior Bowling Congress), became part of a three-man team, and competed. I was no novice, we'd gone bowling as a family many times, but it was the first time that it ever counted for anything... To be honest, I wasn't very good. I couldn't throw the ball the same way twice, and I didn't know [Schmidt] about the science of the game. I did like the competition and the game itself, so I started keeping score for league play, and watching people bowl from 6:30 to 11 pm. Sundays through Thursdays (that's how I made the $25 a week). I began to really watch the better bowlers, and started to notice similarities and differences, and increased my vocabulary by hundreds of Anglo-Saxon expletives. When I'd remember to try new things when I practiced, I started to develop a pretty good bowling form, and my average went from 100 - 110 to 150+ in a couple of years. I was pretty happy, my dad averaged 150, so we were competitive, and would often challenge each other. That was 1966 through '70.
Despite any rumors, U.S. Navy aircraft carriers do NOT have bowling alleys aboard, period. Therefore, I didn't bowl much from 1971 to 1974 (my tour of duty aboard USS INDEPENDENCE (CVA-62), I was either at sea, or drunk most of the time, so some time went by.
In 1975, I joined a team called "The Thugs" on a league for the folks at Fleet Combat Directions Systems Training Center, Pacific, or FCDSTCP (later shortened to FCTCP, the joke being that we lost Direction). We were in the league for a couple of years, and I joined a group of Electronic Warfare weenies on a team named "HEWS Corp" (short for "Heavy Electronic Warfare Specialist Corporation). After I joined, it became "HEWS +1," and I raised my average to the mid-160's, which was pretty good for a once-a-week bowler.
In 1979, I was transferred to New Orleans, LA, and we set up housing in Slidell, across the Causeway. I worked Fridays from 4 pm. to midnight, Saturdays from Noon to Midnight, and Sunday from Noon until the Naval Personnel Center, in Washington, DC, shut down for maintenance (usually sometime about 10 pm.). I was responsible for the weekend updates, ensuring that the proper set of programs ran in a set order, and dealing with anything that prevented the program from running effectively. Sometimes that meant calling a programmer at home, and getting the OK to run certain patches to these huge data dumps. I would kick off a weekend by scheduling a certain program to run on the DC IBM-360 computer system, which would, as a part of the program, call up other programs, or series of programs. This linked series would run for most of a weekend, and once set in motion, the Scheduler had nothing to do but check the operating status of the programs, noting when each completed with a Status Code of "0000". I was off, Monday thru Thursday totally, and until 4 pm on Fridays.
No one gets rich as an Enlisted man, and all too often (particularly in the late-'70's/early-'80's) there would be too much month at the end of the money. Many of us took part-time jobs, and I was not yet 30, so I looked for a bowling alley, thinking my knowledge of pin-setting machines might come in handy.
There were two bowling alleys in town, actually, Pontchartrain Lanes was a 24-lane establishment built into a former car dealership. The bar was literally in the Showroom, and was, in fact, called "The Showroom Lounge". The lanes were put over the old service-bay, with the pin-setters accessible either by climbing through the masking units, or going around to a door in the back. The back-end, the mechanic's office, wasn't insulated, and the only cooling unit was a "swamp cooler" that didn't cool. New Orleans is sort of on the Gulf Coast. In the summer, it gets really hot, and a favorite pastime is to see which will hit 100 first, the temperature or the humidity. Make no mistake, I think swamp coolers are great, we had one in a house in Vacaville, and darned-near froze to death one summer when it was 90 - 108 degrees outside, but less than 20% humidity. In the Gulf Coast area, a swamp cooler is just plain stupid.
When I walked in, the owner and two of his nephews had a handful of parts on the counter, and five pin-setters that didn't work. When I had the chance, I asked the owner if he was hiring, to which he replied, "I've got five lanes down, and a league coming at six. If you can get those lanes up, I'll hire you." I wish I could tell you I got them all, but I did get 4 out of the 5 up and running, and got the job as a mechanic. I worked during the day, Monday through Friday, and made some pretty good money on the side, in addition to my exorbitant military salary.
After awhile, the owner hired a real Head mechanic, a guy named Dave Forewood. Dave was a nice guy, a very good mechanic, and an excellent bowler. After work one night, I decided to see if I could substitute, or pace bowl for someone who was absent. It turned out, Dave had a team in the Men's League, and needed someone to bowl. That night, I rolled a 175 and a 182, but missed the first game, so I had a 357 series for two games, (an average of 178). Dave and the other guys on the team asked me if I wanted to fill the empty spot on their roster, and I agreed. The next week, I rolled my first-ever 600 series, a 608, all three games over 200. The following week I rolled my second 600 series, a 646, a little over 210 per game. I'd never bowled three games over 200, and I was on a streak of six-in-a-row. It didn't last, I ended the league with a 185 average, and started to do some practice during my lunch. Dave would come up front, and give me some tips. He said my mechanics were good, I just needed to find a "mark" (a spot on the lane) that I could hit consistently, and would take the ball to the headpin. He had me lined up with my left foot on the center dot on the approach, and swinging the ball out to the 10th board in from the right gutter (it's the second "arrow" from the right gutter). First ball was an 8-count, second, third, and fourth were 9-counts, a 5-pin, and two 7-pins. Before the fifth ball, Dave moved me a fraction to the right, not even half of a board, and hit the same mark. Fifth ball, strike, six, seven, eight, nine, all strikes.
That summer, during a league, I averaged 228, and shot my first 700 series, a 715, or an average of 238 for 3 games. It seemed like I would alternate, a big 600 series one week, a 700 the next. I got good enough to be invited to the opening of Don Carter Lanes in New Orleans, and take part in a Pro-Am. I was paired with a guy from Memphis, TN by the name of Steve Martin. It was an accident (that's what the tournament director said), but we hit it off immediately, and came in 3rd. I don't remember the name of the Pro on the lanes next to us, but he whined and bitched the whole time, and said that "Amateurs had no place bowling with Professionals."
By the end of the tournament, I was so sick of his BS, I called him out. "You're too f-ing good to play alongside regular people?" To which he answered, "I can beat you anytime, any place."
I flipped out. "You mean to tell me that you can come into MY house and beat ME?"
"Anytime, any place."
"OK, big guy, the time is 11 tonight, and the place is Pontchartrain Lanes. Bring money, lots of money. Cash only."
Long story short, I took him for 5 straight games, at $20 a game, so he decided to try a "double or nothing on the hundred bucks..." I took him for $200, and then $400, he decided to back down to just $100 per game. All told, I took $2,000 from him, and totally humiliated him.
1981 comes, and I get transferred to a Pre-Commissioning crew for USS MCKEE (AS-41), and didn't bowl again until '83, when I started a league in San Diego, and brought a team into the Naval Training Center, San Diego Varsity League. In '84, I was transferred back to FCTCP, rejoined that league, and was always fighting for the High Average award for the League. In '87, we moved to Monterey, CA, and I never had time to bowl, working 12-hour shifts, and working part-time at the Ft. Ord Golf Course.
After I retired from the Navy in 1991, I worked in bowling alleys full-time to help finance my full-time college studies, and support my family. Every once in a while, I'd bowl, but I didn't join a league again until 2002, when I joined a school district league here in Vacaville, at the bowling alley I helped build, and did OK. Of course, this was after a stroke in 2002, so bowling was more like physical therapy.
In 2004, I bowled in my last league. Another teacher's league, where I really started to get back to bowling 200's regularly. On the last night of the league, they had us bowling "Moonlight No-Tap," in the dark, where knocking down 9 pins counts as a strike. I had a 250-something, and a 279, going into the last game. I rolled a Perfect Game, 300, without using the No-Tap. A total of 12 strikes, regulation strikes. Two days later, the bowling alley closed, and I had to have a note to get my equipment out of a locker. Needless to say, I never got my 300 ring, and only got an 800 Series money clip because they had one at the desk. Neither accomplishment shows anywhere in the ABC records.
That's been it for me, bowling-wise. Back problems have prohibited me from playing, and I've sold everything but my bowling shoes. Now that my back problems are better, maybe I'll try it again. Not just now, though...
Monday, October 16, 2017
Life as a Professional Scorekeeper
My first job, the one where I was paid an hourly wage and got a regular check, was as a "Pinchaser" at the old Vaca Bowl, on Peabody, near the intersection of Elmira Road. I was paid a whopping $1.65 per hour, which was the minimum wage in 1966. I'd work 4-5 hours, 3-4 days per week, so taking the maximum, I would work 20 hours per week for a total of $33.00 per week, which was OK for a kid, back when gasoline was $.25 to $.40 per gallon, bread was $.17, and milk was considerably less than a buck per gallon. The government took a big bite out of it, and I'd get about $90 net. every month... I cleaned up the concourse, emptied trash cans, helped the night mechanic by running "calls" if he had to spend some time on a pinsetter, kicked "deadwood" back into the "pit," and anything else necessary to keep the place running clean.
It was, actually, a much better job than it sounds. First and foremost, I learned a skill (working on Brunswick A-2 pinsetters) that would become a means of making "part-time" money. Secondly, it introduced me to the world of bowling in which I made a little "extra" part-time money when we lived in Slidell, LA (I carried an "Average" of over 210, and, when primed with three beers, regularly broke 700 for a 3-game series. We'd have "Pot Games" after the lanes closed, and I frequently won).
I only worked the Porter-gig for a summer, but I still "worked" at the Bowl for the next three years, as a league scorekeeper. The scorekeeper was responsible for tracking the scores of from six to ten bowlers, writing them with a grease pencil, on a sheet of vinyl that had the bowling score sheet permanently printed on them. These eventually gave way to a sort of frosted paper that the lights of the telescore (essentially a table with a bright lamp underneath, and a mirror and lens housing that was about head-high when sitting, it projected league scores on the big screens above the lanes) could pass through, and scoring could be done with a regular pencil. Trust me, I had to clean the vinyl sheets, when I was a Porter, and it was always a mess, even scorekeepers griped about having yellow fingers at the end of the evening, so this was a big change. The technology stayed that way until the 1980's, when the first computerized bowling machines became available. By that time, I was in the Navy. The last Bowling Center I was in (one I had helped to build) had electronic scorekeeping which was done by a laser scanner, triggered by a ball passing an electric-eye.
Scorekeepers earned 10-cents per person, per game, and were paid by the League Secretary towards the end of the second game. Leagues had three to five people on each team, so I could make $1.20 to $2.00 for about two hours work, plus tips (if any). Most teams, as a general rule, would throw a quarter per-man in the cup holder in front of the scorekeeper, if they did an adequate job, an extra $2.00 to $2.50 each series. Most nights, Vaca Bowl was "double shifted," meaning one league (or set of leagues) would start at 6:30 pm, and second shift at 9. If you were a "good" scorekeeper, you'd have teams ask if you would keep score for them on a regular basis. That was a really good thing, because the team you "regular" for would usually leave big tips. If you were "REAL good," like me, you'd get big tips from both teams, have a "regular" spot every night, and have teams that fought for you. Yeah, I sound fairly conceited about it, but the fact is, I was "The Best Scorekeeper" ever to work at the Bowl, and here's why... 1). I was a avid bowler, and really enjoyed the sport. 2). Despite every grade I got in Math (after 6th grade), math was never really a problem for me. 3). I had taken two years of mechanical drawing, and had the best printing of anyone in the building, so my score sheets were ALWAYS very readable. 4). I was there, every night, Sunday through Thursday, both shifts. And 5). I was always neatly dressed, hair combed, clean smelling, and polite.
Any given week, I could have upwards of $35 to more than $50 of tax-free cash. At the time, I was the guy who always had cash, but no one knew how I got it. It wasn't easy. In addition to keeping the individual game scores, I had to total up the scores, fill out the "Recap Forms," ensure that everything was correct before giving it to the team captains to sign, and delivering the completed form to the League Secretary. I had one team claim that they didn't want a scorekeeper, just so they wouldn't have to pay... It was a ridiculous notion, as they paid it in their League Fees, and were not required to tip. I had done pretty well on the first shift, so I didn't score in the second shift, and watched them F#%& up the overhead, and the Recap. I had a chat with the Secretary for that league, and they went through the telescores and the Recap Sheet, and decided to void their scores for the night, and they'd have to do a make-up, with an "official" scorekeeper, and pay for the "lineage" (games), or both teams would have to forfeit all four league points.
Alas, the days of Scorekeepers is gone, otherwise I'd be at the new bowling center, making a few extra bucks...
It was, actually, a much better job than it sounds. First and foremost, I learned a skill (working on Brunswick A-2 pinsetters) that would become a means of making "part-time" money. Secondly, it introduced me to the world of bowling in which I made a little "extra" part-time money when we lived in Slidell, LA (I carried an "Average" of over 210, and, when primed with three beers, regularly broke 700 for a 3-game series. We'd have "Pot Games" after the lanes closed, and I frequently won).
I only worked the Porter-gig for a summer, but I still "worked" at the Bowl for the next three years, as a league scorekeeper. The scorekeeper was responsible for tracking the scores of from six to ten bowlers, writing them with a grease pencil, on a sheet of vinyl that had the bowling score sheet permanently printed on them. These eventually gave way to a sort of frosted paper that the lights of the telescore (essentially a table with a bright lamp underneath, and a mirror and lens housing that was about head-high when sitting, it projected league scores on the big screens above the lanes) could pass through, and scoring could be done with a regular pencil. Trust me, I had to clean the vinyl sheets, when I was a Porter, and it was always a mess, even scorekeepers griped about having yellow fingers at the end of the evening, so this was a big change. The technology stayed that way until the 1980's, when the first computerized bowling machines became available. By that time, I was in the Navy. The last Bowling Center I was in (one I had helped to build) had electronic scorekeeping which was done by a laser scanner, triggered by a ball passing an electric-eye.
Scorekeepers earned 10-cents per person, per game, and were paid by the League Secretary towards the end of the second game. Leagues had three to five people on each team, so I could make $1.20 to $2.00 for about two hours work, plus tips (if any). Most teams, as a general rule, would throw a quarter per-man in the cup holder in front of the scorekeeper, if they did an adequate job, an extra $2.00 to $2.50 each series. Most nights, Vaca Bowl was "double shifted," meaning one league (or set of leagues) would start at 6:30 pm, and second shift at 9. If you were a "good" scorekeeper, you'd have teams ask if you would keep score for them on a regular basis. That was a really good thing, because the team you "regular" for would usually leave big tips. If you were "REAL good," like me, you'd get big tips from both teams, have a "regular" spot every night, and have teams that fought for you. Yeah, I sound fairly conceited about it, but the fact is, I was "The Best Scorekeeper" ever to work at the Bowl, and here's why... 1). I was a avid bowler, and really enjoyed the sport. 2). Despite every grade I got in Math (after 6th grade), math was never really a problem for me. 3). I had taken two years of mechanical drawing, and had the best printing of anyone in the building, so my score sheets were ALWAYS very readable. 4). I was there, every night, Sunday through Thursday, both shifts. And 5). I was always neatly dressed, hair combed, clean smelling, and polite.
Any given week, I could have upwards of $35 to more than $50 of tax-free cash. At the time, I was the guy who always had cash, but no one knew how I got it. It wasn't easy. In addition to keeping the individual game scores, I had to total up the scores, fill out the "Recap Forms," ensure that everything was correct before giving it to the team captains to sign, and delivering the completed form to the League Secretary. I had one team claim that they didn't want a scorekeeper, just so they wouldn't have to pay... It was a ridiculous notion, as they paid it in their League Fees, and were not required to tip. I had done pretty well on the first shift, so I didn't score in the second shift, and watched them F#%& up the overhead, and the Recap. I had a chat with the Secretary for that league, and they went through the telescores and the Recap Sheet, and decided to void their scores for the night, and they'd have to do a make-up, with an "official" scorekeeper, and pay for the "lineage" (games), or both teams would have to forfeit all four league points.
Alas, the days of Scorekeepers is gone, otherwise I'd be at the new bowling center, making a few extra bucks...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)