My middle daughter was up for Christmas from Texas bringing her family. It was wonderful. We tried to schedule activities to stay busy so we weren't just sitting around in front of the TV. One day we went up to Garden Valley to go tubing. It was absolutely fantastic, the hill was great and the people were so friendly and customer focused. PLUS, it snowed all day long from the time we started up the hill to go over into Horseshoe Bend until we came back.
On the way home my youngest (ten year old) granddaughter had her phone on googling information and asking her dad questions about the information she was finding online. We were almost home, and she began to ask questions about cows--how much they eat, how much milk they produce, etc. So as we stopped at a light, I threw in the question, "Mikayla, do you know how much methane gas a cow makes daily?" A quick peek in the rearview mirror and it was clear from the look on her face she had no idea what I was asking. So, I asked her if she knew what methane gas was. Well, still got that same deer in the headlights look from her, so the next question, in an attempt to be a caring grandfather and use decent language was, "Do you know what flatulence is Mikayla?" A curt, "No!" and the continued blank stare told me my efforts to be polite with her was going no where. Finally, I said, "It's like when you toot!"
I then got the look of understanding, and, "OH, you mean a fart! Why didn't you just say that in the first place Papa?" Guess I'm still catching up with the modern generation!
Friday, December 31, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
It's a Great Thing Prices are Stable in These Times
With the economy so bad and all, something we do not need is a price increase in products. And, for the most part, with the exception of gasoline (the oil companies are pretty up front about increases, on a regular basis no less) everyone else is keeping prices the same. Of course there is one small issue, the packages are getting smaller. I'm sure you noticed.
Now, we've seen bread prices stay the same, but loaves of bread drop from one pound loaves to twelve ounce loaves. We've seen lotion prices stay the same, but containers drop a couple of ounces. I think you get the idea! But, that's private enterprise and they are trying to stay alive. So, what's the next step? Hey, if it works for free enterprise, shouldn't it work for the government too????? Great idea!
So where is this headed? I had to mail a package to one of my grandsons, and Deb's been on me for awhile to get it done. She'd even put the things into a large box some boots came in. As I finally figured I'd procrastinated about as long as is possible, I went out to the shop to grab a smaller box to see if I could save a few bucks on shipping. Now I've got just about every conceivable sized box, bubble wrap, shredded cardboard, and other packing materials available. So, I judiciously surveyed the inventory to ensure I went with as small a box as possible.
I looked around, and my eye landed on a middle sized flat rate box from the post office. Now we've all seen the adds from USPS and that for a fixed rate you can ship anywhere in the US if it "fits in the box." So, immediately grabbed a new box and figured that was the best way to go. However, next to it is a middle sized flat rate box my father-in-law used to mail a package our way early this year. Hmmmmm!!!!! As I look at the two, the older one "appears" to be slightly larger than the new one.
Well, I am in the shop, and there are at least five or six tape measures in the shop, so I grabbed one and started measuring the new box: 12 1/8 X 13 5/8 X 2 3/4. Then I measure the old box: 12 1/8 X 13 7/8 X 3 1/2. Isn't that interesting? A little quick computation on the old cell phone calculator and I come up with 588 cubic inches on the old flat rate box and 454 cubic inches on the new flat rate box. Gee, I must have missed when the USPS told us they were making the boxes slightly smaller. Still the same rate, just can't quite squeeze as much in as you used to.
Well, if we figure a middle sized flat rate box ships for $10.70, and then divide that by the two different cubes, it comes up to be 1.819 cents/cubic inch to ship the old box and 2.356 cents/cubic inch to ship the new middle sized flat rate box. By my calculations that's a 29% increase.
Of course, the President announced a three year freeze on military pay a couple of months ago, and then today heard he was freezing government except for military. So as I'm understanding this, the post office sneaked in a 29% increase on us the unsuspecting public, but our social security and retirement is going to remain the same for three years. Thought there was a slogan out there somewhere about, "...government for the people." Well, since this blog is about being on the road bend over, we'll "DRIVE" the idea home just one more time!!!!!
Now, we've seen bread prices stay the same, but loaves of bread drop from one pound loaves to twelve ounce loaves. We've seen lotion prices stay the same, but containers drop a couple of ounces. I think you get the idea! But, that's private enterprise and they are trying to stay alive. So, what's the next step? Hey, if it works for free enterprise, shouldn't it work for the government too????? Great idea!
So where is this headed? I had to mail a package to one of my grandsons, and Deb's been on me for awhile to get it done. She'd even put the things into a large box some boots came in. As I finally figured I'd procrastinated about as long as is possible, I went out to the shop to grab a smaller box to see if I could save a few bucks on shipping. Now I've got just about every conceivable sized box, bubble wrap, shredded cardboard, and other packing materials available. So, I judiciously surveyed the inventory to ensure I went with as small a box as possible.
I looked around, and my eye landed on a middle sized flat rate box from the post office. Now we've all seen the adds from USPS and that for a fixed rate you can ship anywhere in the US if it "fits in the box." So, immediately grabbed a new box and figured that was the best way to go. However, next to it is a middle sized flat rate box my father-in-law used to mail a package our way early this year. Hmmmmm!!!!! As I look at the two, the older one "appears" to be slightly larger than the new one.
Well, I am in the shop, and there are at least five or six tape measures in the shop, so I grabbed one and started measuring the new box: 12 1/8 X 13 5/8 X 2 3/4. Then I measure the old box: 12 1/8 X 13 7/8 X 3 1/2. Isn't that interesting? A little quick computation on the old cell phone calculator and I come up with 588 cubic inches on the old flat rate box and 454 cubic inches on the new flat rate box. Gee, I must have missed when the USPS told us they were making the boxes slightly smaller. Still the same rate, just can't quite squeeze as much in as you used to.
Well, if we figure a middle sized flat rate box ships for $10.70, and then divide that by the two different cubes, it comes up to be 1.819 cents/cubic inch to ship the old box and 2.356 cents/cubic inch to ship the new middle sized flat rate box. By my calculations that's a 29% increase.
Of course, the President announced a three year freeze on military pay a couple of months ago, and then today heard he was freezing government except for military. So as I'm understanding this, the post office sneaked in a 29% increase on us the unsuspecting public, but our social security and retirement is going to remain the same for three years. Thought there was a slogan out there somewhere about, "...government for the people." Well, since this blog is about being on the road bend over, we'll "DRIVE" the idea home just one more time!!!!!
Monday, November 22, 2010
If you are gonna get hosed, it will be by someone of your own species!
Deb worked the Mobile Mammogram Van in Grandview today. With the weather forecast as "very"wintery, they had some no shows and cancellations, therefore got home a bit earlier than usual. So, picked her up and we decided to make an errand run to Shopko, then a run to Winco for groceries (we do have one college kid in town already, with two more showing up Wednesday).
As an olde retired curmudgeon I do take addvantage of the Seniors parking spot which happens to be right next to the Handicapped spot. As we were leaving to head to the grocery store, and almost to the car an olde guy in a Ford Explorer (and a disabled tag in the windshield) pulled into the empty handicapped spot next to where we were parked. I put the stuff we bought in the back seat, and since he was getting out, Deb waited to get in. I stood there to make sure there was no banging of doors against the car. Sometimes these old coots aren't as careful as they should be.
He locked and closed his door and walked forward between the cars in front of his and ours. As Deb and I continued getting in, she said, "Would you look at that! He's getting in a van and leaving!" I asked her, "Who?" She said, " The old guy who just got out of the Ford next to us!"
Sure enough, he walked over and got into the passenger side of a van driven by a woman, they drove off and out of the Shopko parking lot headed East on Fairview. YGBSM!!!!! This guy left his truck there, not going inside, and took a spot some other person with a disability could use who is actually shopping.
I was dumbfounded beyond words. Can't tell you even now how frustrated I am that someone would do this! If Deb hadn't already worked all day, and we needed to get groceries I would have definitely followed them. So, is this just a totally inconsiderate old guy who like those who run red lights, dive into traffic in front of others and tailgates thinking his needs are the most important, and to hell with the rest of the world? Or is it more personal and sinister than that and he's really cheating on his wife, and uses the Shopko parking lot for his rendezvous point and pickup? LOL!
Guess we will never know, but at least he has no conscious, and definitely no concern for his fellow disabled. Shheeezzzz!!!!! And to think I believed the guy who was DWO was bad!
As an olde retired curmudgeon I do take addvantage of the Seniors parking spot which happens to be right next to the Handicapped spot. As we were leaving to head to the grocery store, and almost to the car an olde guy in a Ford Explorer (and a disabled tag in the windshield) pulled into the empty handicapped spot next to where we were parked. I put the stuff we bought in the back seat, and since he was getting out, Deb waited to get in. I stood there to make sure there was no banging of doors against the car. Sometimes these old coots aren't as careful as they should be.
He locked and closed his door and walked forward between the cars in front of his and ours. As Deb and I continued getting in, she said, "Would you look at that! He's getting in a van and leaving!" I asked her, "Who?" She said, " The old guy who just got out of the Ford next to us!"
Sure enough, he walked over and got into the passenger side of a van driven by a woman, they drove off and out of the Shopko parking lot headed East on Fairview. YGBSM!!!!! This guy left his truck there, not going inside, and took a spot some other person with a disability could use who is actually shopping.
I was dumbfounded beyond words. Can't tell you even now how frustrated I am that someone would do this! If Deb hadn't already worked all day, and we needed to get groceries I would have definitely followed them. So, is this just a totally inconsiderate old guy who like those who run red lights, dive into traffic in front of others and tailgates thinking his needs are the most important, and to hell with the rest of the world? Or is it more personal and sinister than that and he's really cheating on his wife, and uses the Shopko parking lot for his rendezvous point and pickup? LOL!
Guess we will never know, but at least he has no conscious, and definitely no concern for his fellow disabled. Shheeezzzz!!!!! And to think I believed the guy who was DWO was bad!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Life is Good -- For Some of Us, Much Better!!!!!
Deb and I flew to Chicago this past weekend to visit with family, share a birthday celebration with her sister, see our nephews and nieces perform in school events and piano receitals, and just share some love. Mission Accomplished!
We raced through airports--gate to gate, Deb on her gimpy leg, rolling around on her "doh dart" and me limping along behind with my olde back. What a pair! But, we kept up and made most connections and were often given first choice on boarding, so we certainly couldn't complain, and Deb had room for her BIG BOOT too. As we showed up for our final leg into Boise, we got our passes and went to sit down by the gate. Deb had made a pit stop, and I found an open chair by a young man so asked if it was taken. In his Texas/Oklahoma drawl he said, "No sir!" Here was a young man in his early twenties, short hair, well trimmed, short beard running in a neat narrow row around his chin and back up. I've rarely had anyone address me as "Sir" since my Navy days, so was immediately impressed.
As I waited for Deb to show, and he and I chatted, I learned this young man had flown into Denver from Oklahoma, his first time ever in an airplane. He sat a little slouched down in the chair and his speech was just a hint slow. As we talked I learned he had been a passenger in a pickup that was T-Boned in September of his Senior year in high school. His neck was broken, C-4 completely pulverized and missing. The doctors fused above and below that, but told him he'd never walk again. Though home-bound in a bed and subsequently in a wheelchair, he continued to work on his studies, along with his PT/OT. This young man ended up his year with the highest academic average of his class, but unfortunately was not selected as Valdictorian since he'd not been in school for the majority of the year. However, instead of complaining about this, he looked at me and with a huge smile said, "You know sir, I walked across that stage and received my diploma!" There was no doubt it was one of the proudest moments of his life!
He was excited. He was going to see his 'friend' in Idaho Falls, and have an 'early' Thanksgiving -- he needed to be back to his job as Lead for "Room Management" at the Casino in his home town since Thanksgiving was a busy time for them. Multiple times he referred to me as sir, and I could tell it was a normal function of how he addressed older people. He truly meant it out of respect. I listened as he said how concerned he was that his friend had driven all the way from Idaho Falls and then would have to drive back again. Yet, I saw the excitement in his eyes of the coming week.
Deb and I then boarded. When we arrived in Boise, we were making our way towards the main terminal and baggage when he passed us -- his left arm hung stifly at his side, his left leg rigid, swung forward awkwardly with each step, almost as if he were going to fall, and then it would catch him. He had a huge smile on his face, he was almost there. With Deb's cart, we took the elevator and when we arrived in the baggage claim, there he stood with an attractive young lady--someone else who saw not the stiff arm, not the nearly dead left leg, but the young man inside who inspite of life handing him a huge challenge didn't say, "Why me?", didn't blame the world for his disability, but instead showed how positive and full of love he really was. Deb's foot and my back seemed pretty trivial at that moment.
I'm not sure why some of us are so much more fortunate, when others carry so much bigger a burden, but I truthfully hope and pray, that I can be as positive as he is, that I can respect others as he does, that I can say I'm responsible for who I am. Life is Very Good, and for some of us (whether we always realize it or not) it's Much, Much Better!!!!!
We raced through airports--gate to gate, Deb on her gimpy leg, rolling around on her "doh dart" and me limping along behind with my olde back. What a pair! But, we kept up and made most connections and were often given first choice on boarding, so we certainly couldn't complain, and Deb had room for her BIG BOOT too. As we showed up for our final leg into Boise, we got our passes and went to sit down by the gate. Deb had made a pit stop, and I found an open chair by a young man so asked if it was taken. In his Texas/Oklahoma drawl he said, "No sir!" Here was a young man in his early twenties, short hair, well trimmed, short beard running in a neat narrow row around his chin and back up. I've rarely had anyone address me as "Sir" since my Navy days, so was immediately impressed.
As I waited for Deb to show, and he and I chatted, I learned this young man had flown into Denver from Oklahoma, his first time ever in an airplane. He sat a little slouched down in the chair and his speech was just a hint slow. As we talked I learned he had been a passenger in a pickup that was T-Boned in September of his Senior year in high school. His neck was broken, C-4 completely pulverized and missing. The doctors fused above and below that, but told him he'd never walk again. Though home-bound in a bed and subsequently in a wheelchair, he continued to work on his studies, along with his PT/OT. This young man ended up his year with the highest academic average of his class, but unfortunately was not selected as Valdictorian since he'd not been in school for the majority of the year. However, instead of complaining about this, he looked at me and with a huge smile said, "You know sir, I walked across that stage and received my diploma!" There was no doubt it was one of the proudest moments of his life!
He was excited. He was going to see his 'friend' in Idaho Falls, and have an 'early' Thanksgiving -- he needed to be back to his job as Lead for "Room Management" at the Casino in his home town since Thanksgiving was a busy time for them. Multiple times he referred to me as sir, and I could tell it was a normal function of how he addressed older people. He truly meant it out of respect. I listened as he said how concerned he was that his friend had driven all the way from Idaho Falls and then would have to drive back again. Yet, I saw the excitement in his eyes of the coming week.
Deb and I then boarded. When we arrived in Boise, we were making our way towards the main terminal and baggage when he passed us -- his left arm hung stifly at his side, his left leg rigid, swung forward awkwardly with each step, almost as if he were going to fall, and then it would catch him. He had a huge smile on his face, he was almost there. With Deb's cart, we took the elevator and when we arrived in the baggage claim, there he stood with an attractive young lady--someone else who saw not the stiff arm, not the nearly dead left leg, but the young man inside who inspite of life handing him a huge challenge didn't say, "Why me?", didn't blame the world for his disability, but instead showed how positive and full of love he really was. Deb's foot and my back seemed pretty trivial at that moment.
I'm not sure why some of us are so much more fortunate, when others carry so much bigger a burden, but I truthfully hope and pray, that I can be as positive as he is, that I can respect others as he does, that I can say I'm responsible for who I am. Life is Very Good, and for some of us (whether we always realize it or not) it's Much, Much Better!!!!!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
DWO
No, not DWI nor DUI -- DWO!
Driving Deb to work this morning we passed through this one intersection, and again for the forty-eleventh time I shared with her a story from that intersection that occurred nearly six to eight months ago. I said, "I ought to put that on my blog." and of course she said that I finally was beginning to understand the idea of a blog. I often refrain, because I read hers and see how creative a writer she is, and realize I'll never get there. However, I'm growing to understand that even without the creativity, some of the things we see and experience are still worth sharing. So, bear with me, here goes!
One afternoon going to pick Deb up from work, East bound on one of the main streets in Boise, another gent in a truck and I were stopped at a red light. As with most of the lights in Boise, before we get a green the oncoming left turning traffic gets the right of way. Now Boise is infamous for the great numbers of drivers who run through on yellow, and all too frequently even blatantly continue through lights on red. (Thus why we have so many accidents, but that's a blog for another day).
A couple of cars that had been waiting for the green left turn arrow made their turns, and as I looked up saw this old beater car coming toward us in the left turn lane. He wasn't going all that fast, but it was one of those where experience tells you this driver was not going to stop, even if the light changed. Sure enough, the light turned green for us, but the old beater with an equally "old beater" driver continued with no appearance of even slowing, let alone stopping.
As the gent in the truck next to me and I waited to see what the "olde feller" was going to do, he gracefully and with no expediency continued into the intersection, made the left turn and half-way through it "flipped us both off!" As I turned with what I know was an incredible look and smile on my face, and looked at the gent in the truck, he was looking at me with this huge smile, and just shaking his head from side to side.
Sometimes you have to watch out for DWI's and other times you have to watch out for DWO's -- Driving While Olde!!!!!
Driving Deb to work this morning we passed through this one intersection, and again for the forty-eleventh time I shared with her a story from that intersection that occurred nearly six to eight months ago. I said, "I ought to put that on my blog." and of course she said that I finally was beginning to understand the idea of a blog. I often refrain, because I read hers and see how creative a writer she is, and realize I'll never get there. However, I'm growing to understand that even without the creativity, some of the things we see and experience are still worth sharing. So, bear with me, here goes!
One afternoon going to pick Deb up from work, East bound on one of the main streets in Boise, another gent in a truck and I were stopped at a red light. As with most of the lights in Boise, before we get a green the oncoming left turning traffic gets the right of way. Now Boise is infamous for the great numbers of drivers who run through on yellow, and all too frequently even blatantly continue through lights on red. (Thus why we have so many accidents, but that's a blog for another day).
A couple of cars that had been waiting for the green left turn arrow made their turns, and as I looked up saw this old beater car coming toward us in the left turn lane. He wasn't going all that fast, but it was one of those where experience tells you this driver was not going to stop, even if the light changed. Sure enough, the light turned green for us, but the old beater with an equally "old beater" driver continued with no appearance of even slowing, let alone stopping.
As the gent in the truck next to me and I waited to see what the "olde feller" was going to do, he gracefully and with no expediency continued into the intersection, made the left turn and half-way through it "flipped us both off!" As I turned with what I know was an incredible look and smile on my face, and looked at the gent in the truck, he was looking at me with this huge smile, and just shaking his head from side to side.
Sometimes you have to watch out for DWI's and other times you have to watch out for DWO's -- Driving While Olde!!!!!
Parallel Parking
If approached correctly, pun intended, parallel parking is actually one of the simplest maneuvers to do. Because it is usually on busy main streets, it is important to be able to execute a parallel parking maneuver quickly and efficiently. As a result, when our two oldest (Erin and Matthew) were ready to get their driver's licenses we spent considerable time talking about the geometry of parallel parking and then going out on side streets and finding spaces in which to practice. As a result, we are pleased they are both exceptional at performing this parking maneuver and pride themselves on this particular skill.
Now, this is not to slight our youngest son, but as a great surprise to me, when Krieg was ready to take his driving test, we were saddened to learn the State of Idaho did not require parallel parking as a qualifier on the exam. We still had him try some, but not to the extent of the older two.
So, this morning, as I'm pulled into the curb at the corner to drop Deb at work, and get her little cart out of the back of the car, we both look up to see this Jeep Wrangler backing into a large space to parallel park two up from us. After he backed into the curb the first time, with the front end still in traffic, we looked at each other and smiled. When a second attempt resulted in getting parallel, but being about four feet from the curb (sticking out in traffic) we shook our heads. With two more attempts, he finally got the Wrangler parallel and within two feet of the curb, and hadn't banged into the cars on either end of his space.
We looked at each other and simultaneously said, "Erin and Matt would be embarrassed!"
Unfortunately, parallel parking skills don't seem to be the only ones in which today's drivers are deficient!
Now, this is not to slight our youngest son, but as a great surprise to me, when Krieg was ready to take his driving test, we were saddened to learn the State of Idaho did not require parallel parking as a qualifier on the exam. We still had him try some, but not to the extent of the older two.
So, this morning, as I'm pulled into the curb at the corner to drop Deb at work, and get her little cart out of the back of the car, we both look up to see this Jeep Wrangler backing into a large space to parallel park two up from us. After he backed into the curb the first time, with the front end still in traffic, we looked at each other and smiled. When a second attempt resulted in getting parallel, but being about four feet from the curb (sticking out in traffic) we shook our heads. With two more attempts, he finally got the Wrangler parallel and within two feet of the curb, and hadn't banged into the cars on either end of his space.
We looked at each other and simultaneously said, "Erin and Matt would be embarrassed!"
Unfortunately, parallel parking skills don't seem to be the only ones in which today's drivers are deficient!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Some of us are so blessed and so lucky!
One of the dearest and closest friends I have is a gentleman named Robert McLeod. Bob and I are really as much like brothers as we are good friends. I don't remember when we first met, Bob probably does. His dad was partners with one of my great Uncles in Moses Lake, Washington and I'm guessing my folks met his folks through that relationship. The number of years we visited each other's homes on Saturday nights so the folks could play cards, and visit, is considerable. Bob went off to join the Navy and his stories of that time in service were really the catalyst that encouraged me to join (that and dad booting me out of the house after I flunked out of college and was just lying around 8-( ).
His dad and mine were just days apart in birthdays, and hunted together, and even at the age of 80 the two of them were still cutting wood for three or four widow women in the neighborhood so they would have heat for the winter. I remember the fall they were 79 they cut over 7 cords for those ladies. Pardon the segue. Anyhow, Bob has remained very special to me, and so when I go to the coast I try to stop in and visit for a day or two with him and his wife Linda. Plus, Linda is one heck of a great cook, and they do their own beef, and fruits and veggies from their own garden, so it's always a great meal.
One of the things we've alsways discussed is how fortunate he and I have been in our lives. We've got great families, super wives, and just in general are very lucky and fortunate to be where we are today, and to be still living and enjoying everything around us. I've said it a lot on my facebook page, but I sincerely believe "Life is Great!" So, in spite of a an occasional bump in the road, we really have both been blessed with lots of people who love us and whom we love.
As we sat there last week, drinking coffee while Linda cooked up a great breakfast casserole, we remarked on our good fortune, and I recalled a story that reinforced that. Now, we who have served don't often talk about our experiences, except to others who have served. They've been there, and they understand better than anyone some of these experiences. But, I told Bob a story that I'd like to share with you today. Maybe like the two of us, you will feel very blessed too.
In 1972, on board the Carrier U.S.S. Enterprise, Gulf of Tonkin, waters off Vietnam. It was December 24th, Christmas Eve and we were on a no-fly day standing down. However, we still kept both fighter and attack aircraft fully loaded in an alert status. My good friend "Boing" was one of the alert pilots and asked me to stand in while he went for dinner. I'd been suited only about ten minutes when they called away the alert. Two of us launched late that afternoon for an A-7E that had been shot down in the islands just off the South Coast of North Vietnam. After an extensive search, an airborne refueling, and more search we finally had to stop due to darkness. Our search had not concluded in positive results. Sadly we diverted to Danang Air Force Base where we spent the night since the Big "E" was in standdown. The next day we waited for flight ops to start, then flew back to the carrier.
On our return, I was to learn the pilot of the A-7 lost was from VA-113 out of Lemoore, California, and the pilot was Phillip Spratt Clark, Jr. Phillip "Flip" Clark had been a classmate of mine when we went through A-7E training in the Replacement Air Group (RAG). Here begins the real story of how blessed some of us are, while others face significant challenges in their lives and still go on. During the RAG, Flip and his wife found out she had cancer. Every attempt was made to save her, but she passed away that year -- the day after Christmas. We completed the RAG and though Flip had two small children, he put them in his parents care and went to serve his country as he had been trained and raised. Now, one year less two days later than his wife's death, he was lost over Vietnam.
I never had an address for his folks, but knew Flip had been born in Spokane, Washington, so every year on Veteran's Day wrote a short story about his loss and sent it to the Spokane paper hoping the community would know how much he gave, and hopefully that some family might inquire to my note. It didn't happen. Subsequently, I found a listing on a website (footnote.com) for Flip, and as it had a couple of errors in the information, added a correcting note ( http://www.footnote.com/page/93132670_philip_spratt_jr_clark/ ). On October 12th last year I received an email advisory from footnote.com telling me of an inquiry by an slclark. It was Flip's daughter Shannon who was only two years old when he was lost. Now, nearly 37 years later I've made contact with his family.
Shannon and her brother Terry were raised by Flip's mom and dad. Terry went on to graduate from the Naval Academy and then earned his wings in 1992. In September of 1994 he was killed in an F-14 crash off the coast of Southern California. Shannon lost her grand father in 2004 to cancer, and her grand mother was diagnosed in 2009 with cancer. This young lady has faced more tragedy in her life than several people and yet she has a positive outlook, holds her head up high and continues. As Bob McLeod has told me on more than one occassion, "Some of us are so blessed and so lucky!" In memory of Flip Clark, his family and the sacrifices they have made! Shannon, God Bless You! VR. Mags
His dad and mine were just days apart in birthdays, and hunted together, and even at the age of 80 the two of them were still cutting wood for three or four widow women in the neighborhood so they would have heat for the winter. I remember the fall they were 79 they cut over 7 cords for those ladies. Pardon the segue. Anyhow, Bob has remained very special to me, and so when I go to the coast I try to stop in and visit for a day or two with him and his wife Linda. Plus, Linda is one heck of a great cook, and they do their own beef, and fruits and veggies from their own garden, so it's always a great meal.
One of the things we've alsways discussed is how fortunate he and I have been in our lives. We've got great families, super wives, and just in general are very lucky and fortunate to be where we are today, and to be still living and enjoying everything around us. I've said it a lot on my facebook page, but I sincerely believe "Life is Great!" So, in spite of a an occasional bump in the road, we really have both been blessed with lots of people who love us and whom we love.
As we sat there last week, drinking coffee while Linda cooked up a great breakfast casserole, we remarked on our good fortune, and I recalled a story that reinforced that. Now, we who have served don't often talk about our experiences, except to others who have served. They've been there, and they understand better than anyone some of these experiences. But, I told Bob a story that I'd like to share with you today. Maybe like the two of us, you will feel very blessed too.
In 1972, on board the Carrier U.S.S. Enterprise, Gulf of Tonkin, waters off Vietnam. It was December 24th, Christmas Eve and we were on a no-fly day standing down. However, we still kept both fighter and attack aircraft fully loaded in an alert status. My good friend "Boing" was one of the alert pilots and asked me to stand in while he went for dinner. I'd been suited only about ten minutes when they called away the alert. Two of us launched late that afternoon for an A-7E that had been shot down in the islands just off the South Coast of North Vietnam. After an extensive search, an airborne refueling, and more search we finally had to stop due to darkness. Our search had not concluded in positive results. Sadly we diverted to Danang Air Force Base where we spent the night since the Big "E" was in standdown. The next day we waited for flight ops to start, then flew back to the carrier.
On our return, I was to learn the pilot of the A-7 lost was from VA-113 out of Lemoore, California, and the pilot was Phillip Spratt Clark, Jr. Phillip "Flip" Clark had been a classmate of mine when we went through A-7E training in the Replacement Air Group (RAG). Here begins the real story of how blessed some of us are, while others face significant challenges in their lives and still go on. During the RAG, Flip and his wife found out she had cancer. Every attempt was made to save her, but she passed away that year -- the day after Christmas. We completed the RAG and though Flip had two small children, he put them in his parents care and went to serve his country as he had been trained and raised. Now, one year less two days later than his wife's death, he was lost over Vietnam.
I never had an address for his folks, but knew Flip had been born in Spokane, Washington, so every year on Veteran's Day wrote a short story about his loss and sent it to the Spokane paper hoping the community would know how much he gave, and hopefully that some family might inquire to my note. It didn't happen. Subsequently, I found a listing on a website (footnote.com) for Flip, and as it had a couple of errors in the information, added a correcting note ( http://www.footnote.com/page/93132670_philip_spratt_jr_clark/ ). On October 12th last year I received an email advisory from footnote.com telling me of an inquiry by an slclark. It was Flip's daughter Shannon who was only two years old when he was lost. Now, nearly 37 years later I've made contact with his family.
Shannon and her brother Terry were raised by Flip's mom and dad. Terry went on to graduate from the Naval Academy and then earned his wings in 1992. In September of 1994 he was killed in an F-14 crash off the coast of Southern California. Shannon lost her grand father in 2004 to cancer, and her grand mother was diagnosed in 2009 with cancer. This young lady has faced more tragedy in her life than several people and yet she has a positive outlook, holds her head up high and continues. As Bob McLeod has told me on more than one occassion, "Some of us are so blessed and so lucky!" In memory of Flip Clark, his family and the sacrifices they have made! Shannon, God Bless You! VR. Mags
History in the Making
Was home on Sunday then after I took Deb to work on Tuesday headed out again. I've been really great at taking care of her since her foot surgery. We'd had this weekend at Kalaloch planned for a long time, and one of the agreements was I'd be able to leave early, drive to the Puget Sound area and visit with some family and friends before going down to Kalaloch. Among other things was a chance to visit with some of my High School Classmates.
Our 50th Reunion was this summer. In fact, it occurred the Saturday following our summer camping trip to Kalaloch. However, I over did it at the ocean, and could hardly walk from the car to the house when we came back to Rochester, so missed the Reunion. Fortunately, the class has a monthly Luncheon in Tacoma and I asked Karen K. if they would mind doing it on October 20th or 21st when I was in town. Of course, she set it up, and on Thursday the 21st we met at Oscars in Tacoma. WOW!!!!! What a great opportunity for me.
Now for a short segue. Our elementary school was Edgemont, which ran through the eighth grade. From there, we could go to one of four High Schools. I chose Sumner since it had the best reputation for academics. Thus, many of my Sumner High Classmates were of a special subgroup who had also attended Edgemont. As I walked in, the first three people had already arrived, and two were Edgemont grads as well. So I immediately caught up on not only high school but grade school friends as well.
We recalled many of the teachers we had, and one in particular was remembered -- Miss Wilson, Miss Ida Mae Wilson, teacher of State History among other classes. Ida Mae was very emphatic about the Miss. A spinster well past the age of marrying (38 in olde England), she had become a legend at Sumner Senior High by the time I attended. As State History was a mandatory course, everyone who went through high school had Miss Wilson for a teacher. As we wondered how old she really was, I shared with those at the table the following:
Miss Wilson had taught my mother State History in 1935. And before that, she had taught my Great Uncle Jim Calvert State History when he attended Sumner High School in 1919. Allowing for at least twenty-two years of schooling before she could teach, she must have been born prior to 1897.
She of course knew Washington State History better than anyone. I recall one of the things she was emphatic about was the pronunciation of the Nez Perce tribe which populated Eastern Washington. Today they call themselves Nez Perce (purse). Miss Wilson used the pronunciation from the early French Trappers who named them for their pierced noses -- Nez Perce (per-say) with the accented last "E". One has to wonder how many students she taught over the years -- must guess something nearing 2000. Wow, that lady impacted a lot of lives.
Our 50th Reunion was this summer. In fact, it occurred the Saturday following our summer camping trip to Kalaloch. However, I over did it at the ocean, and could hardly walk from the car to the house when we came back to Rochester, so missed the Reunion. Fortunately, the class has a monthly Luncheon in Tacoma and I asked Karen K. if they would mind doing it on October 20th or 21st when I was in town. Of course, she set it up, and on Thursday the 21st we met at Oscars in Tacoma. WOW!!!!! What a great opportunity for me.
Now for a short segue. Our elementary school was Edgemont, which ran through the eighth grade. From there, we could go to one of four High Schools. I chose Sumner since it had the best reputation for academics. Thus, many of my Sumner High Classmates were of a special subgroup who had also attended Edgemont. As I walked in, the first three people had already arrived, and two were Edgemont grads as well. So I immediately caught up on not only high school but grade school friends as well.
We recalled many of the teachers we had, and one in particular was remembered -- Miss Wilson, Miss Ida Mae Wilson, teacher of State History among other classes. Ida Mae was very emphatic about the Miss. A spinster well past the age of marrying (38 in olde England), she had become a legend at Sumner Senior High by the time I attended. As State History was a mandatory course, everyone who went through high school had Miss Wilson for a teacher. As we wondered how old she really was, I shared with those at the table the following:
Miss Wilson had taught my mother State History in 1935. And before that, she had taught my Great Uncle Jim Calvert State History when he attended Sumner High School in 1919. Allowing for at least twenty-two years of schooling before she could teach, she must have been born prior to 1897.
She of course knew Washington State History better than anyone. I recall one of the things she was emphatic about was the pronunciation of the Nez Perce tribe which populated Eastern Washington. Today they call themselves Nez Perce (purse). Miss Wilson used the pronunciation from the early French Trappers who named them for their pierced noses -- Nez Perce (per-say) with the accented last "E". One has to wonder how many students she taught over the years -- must guess something nearing 2000. Wow, that lady impacted a lot of lives.
Give me a ping, Vasili. One ping only, please.
A line from "Red October." A great line from Red October. So, continuing with my trip to Texas. Anyone who has ever been to Texas must know of What-A-Burger. Simple, but so good. Everytime I return to Texas to see my kids one of our stops is at a What-A-Burger before Papa gets out of town. It was looking like that wasn't going to happen this time as the week drew to an end.
The band in which Caleb plays has a trend now that when they play on Friday nights, the last thing on the way home is a stop at What-A-Burger since they have been on the go since 0630 that morning with no stops. As we walked over with Caleb to put away his instruments, and give him some money for the burger stop, I asked him if he'd mind just grabbing a burger and bringing it home to me. Then we wouldn't have to worry about a stop on Saturday, our last chance to visit What-A-Burger. He asked what kind I wanted, and so I told him just a burger, simple, single burger, with mustard.
We went on home to start a fire in the fire pit out on the patio, and after it was going, Tonya, Mikayla and I sat out there chatting and waiting for Caleb and his friends to show. Finally about a quarter to midnite they made it back and came out with the bags of goodies from What-A-Burger. They pulled out burgers and passed them around to each other, and at the end Caleb's friend pulled out a styrofoam box. "What's this? They never put anything in styrofoam!" Caleb replied, "That's the burger for my Papa." As we opened it, it was a single burger with a little side cup of mustard--a single burger pattie that is. No bun, no lettuce, no tomato, just a single pattie and a little cup of mustard.
Caleb, was mortified, and explained when he ordered it, the girl kept saying you want just a single burger, and he kept saying yes, "Give me a single burger, lady. One pattie only, please!" You gotta love the communications with wait staff sometimes.
The band in which Caleb plays has a trend now that when they play on Friday nights, the last thing on the way home is a stop at What-A-Burger since they have been on the go since 0630 that morning with no stops. As we walked over with Caleb to put away his instruments, and give him some money for the burger stop, I asked him if he'd mind just grabbing a burger and bringing it home to me. Then we wouldn't have to worry about a stop on Saturday, our last chance to visit What-A-Burger. He asked what kind I wanted, and so I told him just a burger, simple, single burger, with mustard.
We went on home to start a fire in the fire pit out on the patio, and after it was going, Tonya, Mikayla and I sat out there chatting and waiting for Caleb and his friends to show. Finally about a quarter to midnite they made it back and came out with the bags of goodies from What-A-Burger. They pulled out burgers and passed them around to each other, and at the end Caleb's friend pulled out a styrofoam box. "What's this? They never put anything in styrofoam!" Caleb replied, "That's the burger for my Papa." As we opened it, it was a single burger with a little side cup of mustard--a single burger pattie that is. No bun, no lettuce, no tomato, just a single pattie and a little cup of mustard.
Caleb, was mortified, and explained when he ordered it, the girl kept saying you want just a single burger, and he kept saying yes, "Give me a single burger, lady. One pattie only, please!" You gotta love the communications with wait staff sometimes.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Nothing of humor, or frustration, just a quick note since I'm on the road again. To Texas this week to visit two of my daughters, their husbands and most of the grandkids. One is off serving our country in the Navy, two are in Jamaica, and five are here. The two oldest here are working and in college, so see them in the evenings usually over dinner, or a fleeting "Hi Papa" as they are making sure to at least poke a head in between class and work. What neat young adults they are -- polite, loving and caring, and most of all "GREAT" grands.
One is a football player and played last night Thanks to the Lord. I say that because last week he got a concussion playing. Wasn't sure we'd get to see him on the field this week. However, since he is also their kicker, they let him do that as long as he agreed NOT to go down field. They won 34-13.
Another is in the Wylie High Band, and tonight we get to go to the Varsity game and see them perform before the game and again at half time. We went early to pick him up from practice this week one night and it was awesome seeing all those young people on the field practicing their hearts out and working so hard. They are super, and of course "My" grandson is exceptional. He will play again tomorrow in competition and we will go see that too, of course.
And, last but certainly not least is a granddaughter in Drill Team who will participate tomorrow. She is so affectionate and sweet. Last night she took her homework with her when we went to the game so she could get it done, and still see her cousin play and be with family. Wish they lived closer.
It's too bad that we have to get older to realize how important these moments are with our kids and grandkids. As I see one grandson weekly I realize how much I love it, and how much I miss the ones who are farther away, AND how much I missed being in the service as kids were growing up. It is so important to be there. I'm still exceptionally proud to have served and done three tours in VN, but there was a cost to it, and I think very often how I'd rather have not been "On the Road" while they were growing up. You can never get that time back!!!!!
One is a football player and played last night Thanks to the Lord. I say that because last week he got a concussion playing. Wasn't sure we'd get to see him on the field this week. However, since he is also their kicker, they let him do that as long as he agreed NOT to go down field. They won 34-13.
Another is in the Wylie High Band, and tonight we get to go to the Varsity game and see them perform before the game and again at half time. We went early to pick him up from practice this week one night and it was awesome seeing all those young people on the field practicing their hearts out and working so hard. They are super, and of course "My" grandson is exceptional. He will play again tomorrow in competition and we will go see that too, of course.
And, last but certainly not least is a granddaughter in Drill Team who will participate tomorrow. She is so affectionate and sweet. Last night she took her homework with her when we went to the game so she could get it done, and still see her cousin play and be with family. Wish they lived closer.
It's too bad that we have to get older to realize how important these moments are with our kids and grandkids. As I see one grandson weekly I realize how much I love it, and how much I miss the ones who are farther away, AND how much I missed being in the service as kids were growing up. It is so important to be there. I'm still exceptionally proud to have served and done three tours in VN, but there was a cost to it, and I think very often how I'd rather have not been "On the Road" while they were growing up. You can never get that time back!!!!!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Ego Centric Drivers/People
Now days people are always in such a rush. They come by the house in the neighborhood at 25 and 30 when speed limit is 20 and with all the kids around is more like 15 when using common sense. They live at the end of the street and must save all of 4 or 5 seconds. It's the same on the road in town -- nothing is more important than them getting through the yellow/red light, tailgating, swapping lanes, rushing away at the green. And funny, we all sit together in a group at the next stop light.
So, headed to PT on Wednesday and there is one of these drivers in front of me, turning in front of cars that must slow down, making California stops at arterials, racing through the parking lot at the hospital, diving into parking spaces without regard to the patients walking by the space. So she runs into the hospital, and as I enter the front doors see her standing in front of the elevator punching the button multiple times. That always gets the elevator to your floor faster, just like tailgating makes the car in front of you go faster.
As I reach the elevator the doors in front of her open and she tries to race in without regard to the people trying to exit. THEN she realizes it is continuing down instead of going up as she wants. I am two elevators over and the door opens and she runs over and slides in, in front of me. I walked in, and see she's going to 3, and I punch 2 where my PT is and hear a little "hrumph" behind me.
About that time, an aide comes up with an elderly lady in a wheelchair and I put my hand up, stop the door and ask if they are going up. She says yes, but they will wait for the next one. I replied, "No need, life goes too fast and we certainly are not in a rush." Another "hrumph" behind me. So she turns the chair around and backs in. They too are going to second floor. We arrive, all get off except the ego centric going to third floor.
As the door closes, I do a little fist pull, with a vocal "YEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!", followed by a "Happy Dance". Of course the receptionists in the corner think I've lost it. But, I just kept walking with a huge smile on my face and thought, "There is justice sometimes."
So, headed to PT on Wednesday and there is one of these drivers in front of me, turning in front of cars that must slow down, making California stops at arterials, racing through the parking lot at the hospital, diving into parking spaces without regard to the patients walking by the space. So she runs into the hospital, and as I enter the front doors see her standing in front of the elevator punching the button multiple times. That always gets the elevator to your floor faster, just like tailgating makes the car in front of you go faster.
As I reach the elevator the doors in front of her open and she tries to race in without regard to the people trying to exit. THEN she realizes it is continuing down instead of going up as she wants. I am two elevators over and the door opens and she runs over and slides in, in front of me. I walked in, and see she's going to 3, and I punch 2 where my PT is and hear a little "hrumph" behind me.
About that time, an aide comes up with an elderly lady in a wheelchair and I put my hand up, stop the door and ask if they are going up. She says yes, but they will wait for the next one. I replied, "No need, life goes too fast and we certainly are not in a rush." Another "hrumph" behind me. So she turns the chair around and backs in. They too are going to second floor. We arrive, all get off except the ego centric going to third floor.
As the door closes, I do a little fist pull, with a vocal "YEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!", followed by a "Happy Dance". Of course the receptionists in the corner think I've lost it. But, I just kept walking with a huge smile on my face and thought, "There is justice sometimes."
Monday, September 20, 2010
First Post
Okay, so finally getting around to starting this thing. Maybe I'll be able to keep it somewhat current.
This weekend, Deb (spouse) and I ran up to Moscow, Idaho for Dad's Weekend. Since we have two kids there, seems right we both go. It is one of the most beautiful drives along the Payette River on Hwy 55 up to the high valley with Cascade, on North to McCall, across to New Meadows and then drop into the canyon and follow the Little Salmon north.
On the way home, it was a gorgeous drive, I snacked to stay awake and Deb slept some. When she awoke as we were south of McCall she spotted a potato chip I'd dropped on the floor. The story begins here:
So, we are coming South on Hwy 55 from McCall and the road is kind of up and down from the frost heaves, but for some reason your mother spots this potato chip under my seat and decides to get it out while I'm driving along. She leans over and is trying to get her hand down between the seat and the center jockey box to get the chip and is looking down to see the chip. The road is making her head bob up and down. As I pass this pickup the poor guy almost runs off the road.
I say to mom, "Maybe you ought to try for that chip after we get home!"
This weekend, Deb (spouse) and I ran up to Moscow, Idaho for Dad's Weekend. Since we have two kids there, seems right we both go. It is one of the most beautiful drives along the Payette River on Hwy 55 up to the high valley with Cascade, on North to McCall, across to New Meadows and then drop into the canyon and follow the Little Salmon north.
On the way home, it was a gorgeous drive, I snacked to stay awake and Deb slept some. When she awoke as we were south of McCall she spotted a potato chip I'd dropped on the floor. The story begins here:
So, we are coming South on Hwy 55 from McCall and the road is kind of up and down from the frost heaves, but for some reason your mother spots this potato chip under my seat and decides to get it out while I'm driving along. She leans over and is trying to get her hand down between the seat and the center jockey box to get the chip and is looking down to see the chip. The road is making her head bob up and down. As I pass this pickup the poor guy almost runs off the road.
I say to mom, "Maybe you ought to try for that chip after we get home!"
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