LEATHERNECKM31

Sights of the Northwest

 

On the local news just now reported that the sun made a brief appearance just before it slipped into the Pacific.

That’s how it is in Portland where it rains enough to convince the faithful to build arks.

 

Riley, Ace of Dogs, dresses for the weather just like everyone else.

The squirrels are in full winter coat and eat massive amounts of corn and peanuts  on my sister Lorri’s balcony.

And Tony the Ornate Box Turtle has it made; out of his habitat, he makes a beeline to the hearth only inches from the burning wood and heats up his exterior like any good turtle would.

Oliver and Dani made reservations for a champagne brunch cruise Sunday on the Willamette River yesterday, and we had a great time… eating, well, like we were on a brunch cruise.

We were aboard the trusty Columbia Gorge sternwheeler whose captain who started as a deckhand, then became a pilot six years later, and he’s been the skipper now for two decades.

Passengers were invited to the wheel house and we each got a turn at steering which the skipper made it look easy….. it isn’t. But after a while you can get the hang of it.

From astern my course looked similar to the giant slalom at first, but more or less straightened out toward the end.

Dani did well when she took charge.

Lorri and I were glad we didn’t have to wash dishes in the galley and could just stroll about the deck, living like Molly Brown, but our trip turned out much better. 

West is best… Obama brought global warming to the east coast

E’ffing rat bastards.

US Airways.

Like everyone I try to get the cheapest flights I can get… why should I pay a premium to be abused and tortured?

So I check in for the 3:15 to Phoenix en route to Portland planning to check one bag which I seldom do… but I’m carrying presents.

“That will be $26,” says Alejandero.

For one bag about 30 pounds?

It’s not his fault, I imagine he gets tired of hearing the hurrumphs about “airway robbery”…. besides, I’m on a lot of meds and I just don’t care much anymore.

Yeah, yeah, I’m sure that somewhere on their website US air proclaims its bag fee… but they sure as hell don’t mention that when you’re processing  the reservation.

If it’s oh-so necessary in these “hard times” to charge a ransom for your clothes, then how does Southwest fly bags for free?

I”d steal more miniature bags of peanuts, but I doubt US Air has any.

They didn’t…. but they had room for $7 drinks.

Valley of the Sun on time… 45 minutes till wheels up to Portland.

Lots of soldiers and Air Force… good-looking, bright young kids… love to talk with these Real Americans.

Sadly, the storm on the Eastern seaboard screwed at lot of Christmas and leave plans as many flights were CX’ed at DFW.

If Phoenix, Atlanta and DIA can have free WiFi… what can’t all airports.

Wait….. then they’d just charge more for the bags.

I don’t remember this welcome in 1969… the kid should cheer up a bit.

 

Saturday breakfast

Deep in the heart of Texas:

Today at Saturday’s breakfast at the world-famous Fried Pie Company Don said he had watched an interview with some of the cops and firefighters who survived the WTC on 9/11 and loved others who had lost loved ones.

One of the firefighters wondered “when are we gonna start calling this ‘dissent’ what it really is… being a traitor who gives aid and comfort to the enemy?”

We all agreed that it had been a long time since we’d fried the Rosenbergs back in 1950 and that a resumption of higher utility costs at federal prisons was long over due.  By acclamation top on the needed hit list was Maj. Amahad Raghead who shot up Fort Hood, killing 14 and wounding dozens more

It’s been weeks and more time is being spent on seeing to Hasan’s comfort that determining who gets immediate forced retirement for allowing such an unforgivable breech of security.

Thank God Fort Bragg was and is a “gun free zone”, like Va Tech, Columbine and other left-wing run installations. 

We also agreed that since we are a “nation of laws, not men” this zero tolerance policy applied to members of Congress and the President of the United States and every tenured teacher, instructor and professor in the country.

Major Raghead is a murdering traitor; but they put Pvt. Slovik before a firing squad in WWII on a desertion charge, but it’s clear Hasan will get three hots and cot and then some democrat will release him back to Ragheadville… after therapy, of course.

Some of us around Amanda’s crowded table observed that it was an outrage that it was going on 10 years and the communists in New York couldn’t decide on a 9/11 Memorial that wouldn’t offend the sub-human rat bastards that drove the planes into the e’ffing towers.

To which former Cheeapolee Carl got off the morning’s best line:

“Yeah, but the Navy had time to build an entire ship that can deliver an entire battalion of 800 Marines anywhere on the planet in less time.”

What’s the difference, my friends?

Exactly; it’s the plain and simple difference between left-wingers and conservatives, it’s the difference between blue and red, the difference between communists and Americans, the difference between those who believe in God and those who worship Barack Hussein Obama… mmmm, mmm, mmm.

As faithful, long-time readers may remember, I’ve often said that “We are no longer a serious nation.”

Strike that… “We have become a suicidal country.”

Bill Buckley is supposed to have said that he “… would rather live in a society governed by the first 300 names in the Boston phonebook than by the Harvard faculty."

Right sentiment… wrong city.

Should be Gainesville by Gawd Texas.

You got to have friends….

Back at Southern Command HQ.

My itinerary was ummm, trying. Outbound: DFW to Atlanta, Atlanta to San Diego; inbound: San Diego to Atlanta, Atlanta to San Antonio, San Antonio to DFW.

Exactly 3,031.6 air miles, but who’s counting?

A health/travel tip… as I expected, that many flights, that many people and this time of year, I got a sinus infection. But this trip I was armed with Zicam, and for the second or third time in the last 6-8 months it was effective in cutting my symptoms and usual discomfort about 75%. 

The trip was sad, but enriching and positive at the same time. I watched my friend, Hap Arnold endure the deepest pain of his life and the most unexpected.

Until last week he’d always assumed, as we always do, that the order of death would follow the order of birth. That unexpected and untidy monkey wrench of fate bedeviled the accountant-minds of Hap and younger Brother Darrel.

Even actuarial tables indicate Darrel was deprived of 20 years. Naturally, the other “brothers” were there.

The best thing about my time in California was then and is now the greatest friends a man could have… and most of us met in 1963.

That’s within a sand-wedge of 50 years, half a century…. almost 350 in dog years.

My high school friends and I have found that most people are astounded at this; and we are astounded right back. We cannot believe that some folks have never attended their high school reunions… hell, we have one every five years. Most of us have perfect attendance.  

We still correspond with Pete Gianopulos, our high school counselor and WWII Army Ranger, now in his 80s, who is Mayor Emeritus and historian of our hometown, Taft California.

I flew into San Diego—where half of all Marines were born; I threatened Mix as soon as he moved to a resort area, that I’d be a frequent visitor.

We were able to have a lot of one-on-one time during our five-hour drive to Bakersfield.

Mix is HMHIC… Head Mother Hen In Charge… he rates his own blog entry as to why that is, but I’ll write it another time. Suffice to say that “Reach Out (I'll Be There)” by the Four Tops is his theme song.

He added to that resume with 20+ years in the Navy.  

Always the host, Mix took me to North Harbor Drive, alongside the Navy Pier where the USS Midway, now a floating museum, is birthed. It was nighttime, but we were able to see a great tribute to Bob Hope, who defined the USO with his 50 years of service to our military.

He is remembered with bronze statues in tableau representing him and the multitudes of troops and his hundreds of USO shows between 1942 and the 1990s; he entertained three generations of US servicemen and women with humor and a touch of home when they needed it most. 

An audio tape loop of his USO routines playing nearby added to the touching memorial.

Mix indulged me with visits to MCAS-San Diego and MCRD where we briefly witnessed the graduation of 400+ brand new Marines who are now charged with the responsibility to serve Country and Corps with the same devotion as those who served before.

Of course I headed immediately for cash sales and the base exchange; my credit card receipts proved once again… “nobody ever went broke selling Marine Corps stuff to jarheads”.

At Mix’s palatial estate (he’ll hate that), Mrs. Mix, Michele, was a most gracious hostess during my stay. And since I require that all my friends have great pets, I’ll note that the Mixes have two cats of a most refined temperament.

 

The hospitality continued as Mix and I drove north for Brother Darrel’s funeral duty in Bakersfield.

There we stayed with Mix’s son, Jayson, a teacher, who helped with bed, coffee, his great dog—Sam—and provided (in a critical zipper malfunction of my ancient Wranglers) a replacement pair.        

Rosey

I like telling folks that “Rosey” is my close personal friend; they assume that I have a girl on the line… like that’s likely.

“Rosey” is short for Rosenberg…. a hard-charging Army Ranger combat medic who, like my friend Johnny Mac always said, paid the price “for serving with Uncle Sam’s Finest”. And… he “had me” at enlisting is the Marine Corps (ANGLICO) after seven years as a “snake eater”, giving him 15 years of patriotic military service.

When I told him that Hap’s brother had been taken, he said, “when do I need to be there”? 

That’s the kind of friends my friends have.

Rosey doesn’t complain, but the effects of Agent Orange make, well, everything more difficult… but, like the song says, he soldiers on.

I have to add…. we think Rosey and Joe Pesci were separated at birth…(here, I attempted to help with my best De Niro.)

Well, maybe you had to be there, but he looks like Pesci to us. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One night after a fine dinner at Macaroni Grill we started laughing so hard that we were begging Pesci Rosey to stop his rapid fire wisecracks before we were arrested for disturbance of the peace.

Those several minutes were the equivalent to five hours’ therapy.

I’d estimate about 150 folks gathered in a quiet cemetery for Darrel’s send-off; figures…. they throw a big party for you on the very day you can’t make it.

Hap and I agreed that Darrel was the last one we thought would become a thumb-typing addict. It’s still hard to believe that I won’t be getting any more 3 a.m. text messages from him, taking me to task on all things political… or about the once mighty Raiders.

His son Darren is now the last of his lineage and has the responsibility of passing along the name; Hap demands it… he still has time to teach the kid how to throw a curveball, and I have time to teach him to be a Yankees fan.

All hands (all Vietnam or Vietnam Era veterans) were on deck for Darrel’s wake… left to right: Larry Dillard, USN; Larry West, USA, Paul Rosenberg, USA/USMC; Lawrence Hildebrand, USAF; Richard Mixon, USN; Ray Abney, and myself, USMC. And all 1966 graduates, Taft Union High School.

Thanks, my friends.

Roots….

Several things to remember about the big news yesterday.

• The Nobel “Peace Prize” is a joke; started by Alfred Nobel—the inventor of dynamite—who became vastly wealthy on things that go “boom”,  established the Nobel Foundation in an effort to buy his way into heaven to atone for the untold legions he helped kill.
• Henry Kissinger and Le Duc Tho were given the “peace prize…. in the middle of the Vietnam War.
• Jimmy Carter, anti-Semite, blow hard, enemy of America and the worst president in 100 years won it,
• and so did…  Yasser Arafat;
• as did uber racist Woodrow Wilson, another enemy of the American people… fittingly he ended his second term as a vegetable.

So….. since the key to winning the Nobel prize is to hate America, it is no surprise whatsoever that mmmmm…. mmmmmm…. mmmmm….. Barack Hussein Obama added his name to the list yesterday.

I’ll write more about it in the next few days, but make no mistake; the fix was in on this, just like it was for Obama’s election. George Soros and his other handlers wanted this done, and so it was…. just like Obama’s selection to be the first President to serve as president of the UN security council.

Is the picture getting clearer as we go along?

So… this week has been my little version of Roots…. without the ocean voyage.

It had been more than a half century since I’d stood at the gate to my grandparents’ west Oklahoma farm house… we both shows the signs of wear and tear.

My Dad was born one mile from here at Stony Point to John and Dolly Alexander; at that time, the above house was home to M.L. (Marcus Lafayette) and Jenny Alexander my great-grandparents.

My grandparents moved into the house in 1942 after my great-grandfather passed on; my great uncles farmed adjacent land. 

More later… Dad’s getting his 50th year Masonic member award today at headquarters in Guthrie….

The Real America in Real America

I’m dispensing with my usual meat and potatoes posts today… I figure that what with Obama thinking he’s the King of the World who has forfeited the rest of America’s season to our enemies… with Iran working on two nukes… not the zero nukes the dimocrats have insisted there are, and OBL is demanding that Europe withdraw its pitifully small number of troops from Afghanistan, and Kadafi claiming paternity of Barry (not a stretch considering Barry’s old lady)… terror squads being busted across the nation…. what could happen?

Today me and my homie, Chuck Chow attended the annual Gene Autry Oklahoma Film and Music Festival in where else but Gene Autry, Okla., (near Ardmore).

All my life I’ve used “Howdy” more than any other greeting and in this crowd… in the civic Center near the Gene Autry Church and the Gene Autry Volunteer Fire Department, so does everyone else.

Many in attendance dress the part, celebrating perhaps not the authentic West but the West portrayed in thousands of Western films… the exhibits are awash in boots, parasols, school marm dresses, marshal badges, cowhide vest and long sleeve shirts with pear snap buttons…. and enough six-guns to start a range war, I reckon.  

Autry (1907 – 1998) made a lot of mostly B Westerns which usually saw him meeting a nice girl and defending her honor in a fist-fight or with some fair gun slingin’ which usually involved The Singing Cowboy shooting the bad guy’s Colt from his hand.

Damned fine shootin’ from waist.

And yes, each two-reeler usually featured at least three or four songs, often on horseback.

Autry:

• acted in almost 100 films, and had soundtrack credit for 115 movies in a career that spanned more than a half century. 
• made 640 recordings, including 300+ songs he wrote or co-wrote.
• sold more than 100 million records and had more than a dozen gold and platinum records, including the first certified gold record.
• flew “the Hump”—over the treacherous Himalayas—in the China-Burma-India Theater after enlisting in 1942 at age 35.

Gene owned the Anaheim Angles for decades, died at 92, and made more money than God, appearing on the Forbes’ magazine list of the 400 richest Americans until he slipped to a "near miss" in 1995 with an estimated net worth of $320 million.

Not bad for the grandson of a Methodist preacher,

And of course Autry had his own radio and TV shows in the 1940s and 50s, and was concerned that his young radio listeners would emulate him, so he wrote the Cowboy Code:

He told his fans that to be a good cowboy one:

1. must never shoot first, hit a smaller man, or take unfair advantage.
2. must never go back on his word, or a trust confided in him.
3. must always tell the truth.
4. must be gentle with children, the elderly and animals.
5. must not advocate or possess racially or religiously intolerant ideas.
6. must help people in distress.
7. must be a good worker.
8. must keep himself clean in thought, speech, action and personal habits.
9. must respect women, parents and his nation's laws.
10. must be a patriot.

Perhaps these few, now remarkable guides for life were his greatest contribution.

Gene Autry, great American.

The real fun today was meeting some of my favorite movie and TV character actors from the 40s, 50, and 60s, including Donna Douglas—The Beverly Hillbilly’s “Elly Mae”; Ben Copper, left and above, mostly known for his work in Westerns, including Duel at Apache Wells, Johnny Guitar and numerous TV appearances through the 1980s; and James Hampton best known for his portrayal of bugler “Dobbs” in TV’s send up of U.S. Calvary movies… F Troop.    . 

Cooper is shown below in a scene from Gunfight at Comanche Creek starring Audie Murphy,WWII Medal of Honor Recipient and one of the most decorated American soldiers of all time.

Cooper remembered Murphy as a “quiet, great guy” who was easy to work with.

Most people don’t know that Murph was also a successful country music songwriter. His songs were cover4ed by such diverse artists as as Dean Martin, Eddy Arnold, Charley Pride, Porter Waggoner, Roy Clark, and interesting, Harry Nilsson.

His two biggest hits were "Shutters and Boards" and "When the Wind Blows in Chicago". 

Donna Douglas, below with my main man, Chuck, was a dear heart; easy and pleasant with the fans, chatting and signing and posing for photos.  

When I purchased one of her photos I asked her if she recalled making a public appearance in Taft California about 1964-65 where I first met her as a high school student. (Donna is shown right with my protégé the aforementioned Mr. Chow.) 

Assuming she’d look quizzical or just say, “no”, she surprised me by immediately saying, “Yes, it was at a car dealership.”

Right she was…. and to this day I can still recall my, shall we say impure thoughts as I clasped her tiny hands and said “pleased to meet you”, my mind filled with fantasies that will be recounted in my soon-to-be published autobiography…. “I’ve Done Some Interesting, and Dangerous Things.”    

For those keeping track, Miss Elly May will be 76 tomorrow.

Ahh, where did my life go? 

Had some nice conversation with Jim Hampton, who lives in Trophy Club, Texas, in the Dallas area—just and hour and a half from here.

“F Troop” was a great TV series which should forever be respect for the punch line about the “Ha’kowie Indians” who were so named after being lost for a very long time and then finally uttered… “Where the heck are we?”

The tribe’s name has been changed over the years to a more humorous and far more crude punch line.

So?…  call Russell Means. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a great day, walking back through my childhood, full of Red Ryder BB Guns, Roy Rogers lunch pails, and humming the lyrics of “Happy trails…. to you… until we meet again…..”

And once again I felt very grateful for the childhood I had… when children were loved and given the right role models and expected to respond to those lessons. For a time of wholesomeness and easily defined lines, a great education and wonderful friends… most of whom I still have.

Those who came after me have my sympathy

Well, gotta go, Pilgrim; It’s quiet….. too quiet, I think it’s Comanch’.

Handbasket…. meet Hell

Gentle Readers, help me here, how many official Obamaposters is this now?

As Rush said a minute ago, the mass of ObamaZombies adds that ominous, threatening touch; to me the rising sun rays are a direct steal from Imperial Japan; and the “helmet” with three-stars----general’s rank? And all crushing down on the top of America.

But remember…. “it’s not about Him.”

Here’s a few highlights from the Obamacare legislation no one in DC wants read before passage:

• Government will have direct access to your banks accts for electronic funds transfer -- Pg 59 HC Bill lines 21-24
• Businesses will be fined $100/per day if it does NOT enroll in this healthcare plan -- Page 155
• Government mandates linguistic appropriate services. Example - Translation for illegal aliens -- PG 91 Lines 4-7 -
• The Government will use groups such as ACORN & AmeriCorps to sign up individual for Obamacare -- Pg 95 HC Bill Lines 8-18
• Employers MUST pay for HC for part time employees AND their families--Pg 126 Lines 22-25
• ANY individual who doesn’t have acceptable HC according to Government will be taxed 2.5% of annual gross income-- Pg 167 Lines 18-23
• Doctors,regardless of specialty will all be paid the same -- Pg 241 Line 6-8 HC Bill -

For a sampling of more provisions and a link to the entire 1,000+ pages click here.

Let me spend awhile on one that caught my eye:

• The Government will cover Marriage & Family therapy -- PG 489 Sec 1308

For those who don’t know, I spent the better part of two decade as a psychotherapist.

First, I would say that 8 of 10 in the profession are women and gay men, which means a great percentage of treatment rendered will be on the whole, feminized.

Trust me, I was a true minority in any professional gathering and had more than my share of philosophical disagreements. I found myself insisting over and over… “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” 

We see the same thing in education, especially in the lower grades: plastic knives are “weapons”, drawing a gun in art glass leads to suspension for 9 year-old… boys. No more kick ball, no more competition, no more “tag, you’re ‘it’.” First grade boys have been arrested for sexual assault or harassment.

And above all, it is women who don’t want papers grading with red ink pens… imagine the damage to young psyches. And don’t forget the horror of “bullying.”

Most women in education, psychology and social work routinely and overwhelmingly advocate ADD and ADHD medications for boys, but rarely for girls. To be a boy in the early grades today means your rambunctious behavior with be noticed, targeted and not tolerated.

They are ground down so they’ll play quietly like the little girls.

(Please read The War Against Boys by Christina Hoff Sommers.)

Should Obamacare open the flood gates for “marriage and family therapy” for everyone, it will open a second front on the War Against Boys and result in the further destruction of the nuclear family, as if the institution needed any helps these days.

This is because most females approach therapy with a social worker bent (read “nanny state”). They see government, programs, grants, “interventions”, more and more laws and rules as the answer to society’s and families’ ills.

Hillary! summed this up best in her book “It Takes a Village” (to raise a child), which I seem to recall sold in the hundreds.

No, it takes two parents, one man and one woman.

Above all, women as a group value security over freedom… men, the reverse. This is why women tend to vote democrat.

Sometimes in life, sometimes in childhood, sometimes in marriage, and sometimes in psychotherapy, we need a good kick in the ass to get moving; women who by their nature are far more concerned with mothering than insisting clients “improvise, adapt and overcome” seldom provide the tried and true therapy.

 Clunkergate update: This is the debacle that just keeps on giving. The  indefatigable radio and TV talker Glenn Beck ferreted out this fact that went entirely unreported by the state controlled media:

Friday he reported that when car dealership managers to actually access the Clunker website, they are directed to a page that informs them they were about to enter a federally controlled website, and are informed:

Any or all uses of this system, any or all uses of this system and all files on this system may be intercepted, monitored, recorded, copied, audited, inspected, and disclosed to authorized CARS, DOT, and law enforcement personnel as well as all authorized officials of other agencies, both domestic and foreign. By using this system, the user consents to such interception, monitoring, recording, copying, auditing, inspecting and disclosure at the discretion of CARS or the DOT personnel.

By clicking on accept, the car dealership’s computer became the property of the Obama regime, and thus surrendered all Fourth Amendment rights. 

After the story appeared Friday on Fox, the feds quietly removed the segment from the application process.

Amusing: and this just in: 6 of 10 vehicles being purchased with Obama clunker buck$ are Honda, Toyota and Hyundai… not GM Ford or Chrysler. Everyone who is shocked by this raise your hands.

Seeing none, I shall proceed:

So what Dear Leader has done is steal $1 billion of your tax money and given it to the Japanese and South Koreans, in order to “stimulate” the U.S. economy.

Obama must not be allowed to finished his first term. I believe that there is already ample evidence to impeach him and the investigative process should begin immediately. Biden is an idiot and Congress won’t allow him to do anything, and then it’s 2012.

It’s early in the week… what could be better than a fresh onslaught of ObamaCommie art propaganda, just in case Dear Leader’s 24/7 presence on television isn’t enough for everyone.

(Courtesy of the Big Zip over at Weasel Zippers.com.)

“Something about this picture caught my attention, it's like I've seen it before....

“Now I remember where....”

"What he meant to say...."

I must apologize for the turn of phrase, "reversal of fortunes", yesterday which resulted in several e-mails and calls of concern.

I guess I chose it because it was vague and not so whiny.

So... no health problems, no financial disasters (Obama having already addressed that); let's just say that it's personal... a "boy-girl" problem--my talents obviously lie elsewhere such as righteous indignation, outrage and the Corps Values of never leave a man behind, and Semper Fidelis.

Also... next week is the annual Medal of Honor Weekend here in Gainesville Texas... the nation's only Medal of Honor Host City. We have a dozen with us this year.

Sometimes it sucks to me, but other times, especially April 1-4, you should envy me.

Since posting yesterday I have once again been touched by the fact that you, my "Faithful Readers", are distant (but genuine friends)... made possible by an electronic device that through absolute random chance placed us on the same wavelength(s).

And for that I am grateful.

We return you now to your regularly scheduled programming, already in progress.

The Colonel

I didn't meet him until later in life, after the vagaries and the weight of age and illness had worked to undermine his constitution, but not his mind.

Probably 200 mourners attended the viewing and his funeral in the Catholic Church he and his wife, Rosie, help found in the lovely-named Bossier City, just a bridge span from Shreveport.

The Colonel was a three-war veteran, a 30-year professional... one of the men who formed the backbone of the Air Force from WWII to Korea, the Cold War's Berlin Air Lift, the Bay of Pigs, and Cuba Missile Crisis, the birth and growth of the Strategic Air Command and finally Vietnam... when my generation caught up with his. I enlisted in 1968, and he retried five years later.

The Colonel was representative of the men I watched and admired growing up; early on, I took their subtle, never bragging example which eventually lead me and millions of other Baby Boomers to military service. Sure, I wanted to serve my country and all that that means, but perhaps, primarily I didn't want to fail my elders, my national fathers, by falling short of the grand and glorious legacy they had handed me for safekeeping.

Therefore, it's nice to think The Colonel and I, 24 years apart, were fellow Vietnam veterans, and comrades.

It was telling that after all those years in uniform, that his first day after the retirement ceremony at Barksdale AFB, found him at his desk in a new job. He and Rosie had five children to raise and The Colonel was not a man who wasted time.

First generation Italian-Americans, his family continued the quintessential immigrant thread which has formed our national fabric since before it actually came to be. His parents immigrated from Capistrano, Italy, not long before he was born in 1923.

The Colonel enlisted in the US Army Air Corps in 1943. He remained on duty and later employed for 50 years.

That... was the Greatest Generation.

On my occasional visits we talked about the variant models of the B-52, which was known by its crews as the "BUFF" or Big, Ugly Fat.... Fellow. He also served as navigator on B-29s, B-47s, KC-97s, KC-135s; assisting in the establishment of U-Tapao Air Force Base in Thailand as a staging base for the Strategic Air Command’s B-52 bombers during the Vietnam War.

No doubt I witnessed some of the "Arc Light" and "Rolling Thunder" air strikes he had helped unleashed in 1969, and I pitied my enemy for the death from above that had found him.

It was terribly frustrating for a career officer with an MBA to have his voice quieted to a sort of low whisper by near continuous ailments and medical treatment.

The visitor needed to sit close by for conversation.

We also talked about his cars, of which there were many--the early Mustangs a passion; he passed on to his two younger sons this automotive avocation, so genetically deep in their DNA that it can be found in their garages today--both of which could be used for food service or as a surgical theater.

They speak off-handedly about "pulling" an engine, with the casual shrug of the shoulders I'd use when replacing a headlamp.

Their early years were spent at his side, growing from "go'fers" grabbing and wiping parts and tools, until they absorbed enough knowledge and experience to actually build cars, and to walk in garage today and be hired as mechanics.

Yet both have had solid, white-collar careers, and each has had more cars by age 20 than I've had in my life. They would probably be hard pressed to give you an accurate total number inside a minute (although I wouldn't wager with them).

Physically limited about six or seven years ago, The Colonel was no longer able to tinker in his garage or even go for a walk; it must have been torture for a very intelligent and capable man with calluses used to having a bit of grease residue on his hands.

Most of his time was spent watching television, especially the news and other current events which we would discuss... everything from the national distribution of new cars, to the dim future of the Republican Party; he held his own.

He remained sharp, if slowed and withdrawn due to his vocal limitation, and he liked his Italian food....manga!

The Colonel's eldest grew to be an astronomer, a band leader, a Grammy-nominated musician, song writer and arranger.

The two "girls" opted for medicine, one a pediatrician and college professor and the other a baccalaureate RN and nurse manager for a national managed health care organization. 

... a case of the acorns never falling far from the tree, if there ever was one.

I borrow George Gobel's line after joining Johnny Carson, Bob Hope and Dean Martin on The Tonight Show... "Did you ever get the feeling that the world was a tuxedo and you were a pair of brown shoes?"

The Colonel finally flew West several days ago, in a persistent early afternoon rain, winds out of the southwest at 10 to 12.... ceiling no more than 1,200 feet.

 

In order to face death, warriors must have something to live for.

God blessed The Colonel with a wonderful wife and family who allowed him to go in harm's way for his country with the knowledge that their love surrounded and protected him, and enabled him to do great things.

For his accomplishments he was respected, and for his loving family, understandably envied.

 

Deep in the heart of Texas...

First of all, let me begin by thanking virtually all North Texas motorists for staying off I-35 yesterday as I made my way to a VA appointment in Denton.

We sailed along, just me and the other pros-- the fifth-wheel and 18-wheeler drivers--going about our bidness, dodging the occasional white-knuckled 25-mph creeper every 8-10 miles or so.

Sure there were mishaps, spin-outs, one jack-knifed and overturned rig--maybe 15 in my 30+ mile trip, but nothing serious.

I used to ridicule Texas drivers for calling in to work terror stricken by the one-quarter inch "ice storm" and refusing to come to work. Obama hit on the same notes yesterday, comparing the winter wimps in D.C. with the far hardier folk of Chicago.

And while the North Texas motorists continue to amuse me, I won't make fun because some may  take it as a challenge to their road-worthiness and get on the highway.

Please don't, ya'll.

Although the horror of the "ice storm" is routine for Texas weather, people here brag about them in the same perverse way they brag about every thing down here... bluebonnets, "Hill Country", not living in Oklahoma, Laura Bush, Texas A&M, The Cowboys, (though not so much this year), and every "Texas Music" picker/singer who ever clamped on a kapo (illustration: see guitar neck, above right).

"Tell you what... that ice storm back in (2003, 1998, 1847, etc.) shut this place down for (12 hours, three days, a month etc.). Back then you could spit yer Skoal and it'd freeze 'fore it hit the dirt." 

Texans think that "cold" begins about 31 degrees.

            

        "Ya don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows..."

In fact, they don't have just weather down here... it's special "Texas weather".

It can be "colder'n a whodathoughtit (well-diggers' ass, etc.); it can be suffocatingly hot and humid. Or windy, or draught, or flood... whatever, it's always No. 1 on the hit parade. 

Hot... I can take; humidity in Texas, like a lower G.I., was invented by Nazis. 

No matter, for Texicans... if it's in Texas, "it's all good", as the young hipsters say these days.

And for those of you unfamiliar with The Lone Star State, you must appreciate that simply in writing this, I may pay a hefty price; there may be no more fried chicken at Lynette's (shudder), people may point at me on the street, Lorri at The Fried Pie may hurt me; don't laugh, she can; I was already afraid of her.

Sometime back, there was a Texas tourism advert tag line, in the vein of: "Texas... Another Country"--in praise of the huge state's varied topography, flora and fauna... oh, and South Padre Island.   

You must understand that this is not so much a state as it is a sometimes grouchy former Republic; it existed as a separate nation until Dec. 29, 1846, when it relinquished it's sovereignty and was annexed to the Union.

Many Texicans were pissed about that then, and 15 years later Texas left, taking with it several other states.

Texans are still pissed about how that turned out as well.

Trespassers will be shot; the wounded, will be shot again

Ozzy Osbourne was once banned from the state and probably received death threats (of which he may not have been aware) for taking a leak on the wall of the Alamo back in '82... while wearing a dress, no less.

Arrested (damned straight) for this dangerous breach of taste and common sense, he later said it was one of his greatest regrets.

In 1984 he played San Antonio again and made a point donating $10K to the Alamo Foundation.

I'm with the Texas patriots (redundant) on this one... this ain't Europe buddy, not by a damned sight. And despite it's location, The Alamo belongs to all of us, but Texas is the custodian.

Anyway, Texans seem as strangely proud of their harsh weather as they are about large snakes, red ants, "sweet" corn, the Texas Rangers (the cops, not the ball players), and the Red River... but only the portion up to the Oklahoma state line.

Of the latter Don proudly informs me that the state line actually is not in the middle of El Rio Rojo as one would expect, but rather Texas extends north to the red dirt of Okieland.

Obviously the surveyors were Texans and had the advantage because Oklahoma (finally fighting off the opposition emanating from Austin) wasn't allowed in the Union 'til 1907.

Don also says "I got here as soon as I could" when asked about being a Michigan native; not only that, but he claims to have driven here from The Great Lakes State at the age of three. Go Wolverines!

Don even wrote a very catchy song about "snow birds"... dedicated to Yankees who come down here in the winter, despite the gruesome and deadly ice storms. The lyrical hook is something like "... and then you get yer ass back home."

Lynette is fourth generation, not just Texas, but Gainesville. People here tend to stay around their homesteads. Her great (-great?) aunt ran a boarding house on the square in downtown Gainesville. The very same building now houses a neat little cafe and a bed and breakfast.   

Mike and Elaine McHorse (above) got a promotion and moved to California some 30 years ago; they lasted about three innings and pulled the plug.  I think they were somewhere in L.A.---so who could blame them?

Ray Fletcher made his brother-in-law and sister move here... next door to him.

Roots.

Nonetheless, if it's 10 years or 100, Texans honestly believe that everyone is or should be envious of them. 

In some ways, we should.

And, real Texans don't allow their boys to play a communist game like soccer..... 

Thank gawd...