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
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
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!!!!!
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