Thoughts on Travel

OAFS Photo

Now don't get me wrong, I rather enjoy travel, under certain circumstances. Traveling to go see friends and family? Love it. Traveling for work? Meh. Good thing I don't have to do the latter any more.

I've traveled for some distance¹ by: car, ship/boat, aircraft, bus, and even by train. Being a control freak of sorts, I prefer traveling by car. I'm in charge, I control the vehicle, and I call the shots. Thing is, that can be tiresome over distances which take longer than three hours to traverse.

Traffic, other drivers, the weather, and even the time of year all have an impact on the relative stressfulness of traveling by car. For instance ...

We returned from Maryland on a Sunday, having done that once before in the spring, noting just how little traffic there was. So ...

Of course April is not peak vacation season, June is the start of said season.

Now I'm not saying that all the traffic we encountered on the road were people returning from vacation (or perhaps setting out on vacation), most of the other vehicles had one or two occupants, some looked loaded up for vacation. Most did not.

We're also in the construction season, which closes down roads, makes others almost unusual, and sends people off in directions they perhaps didn't want to go. (Bothe emotionally and physically!)

I did travel by train, once upon a time. I had caught a space available flight from Okinawa to Korea, normally I could get one straight to where I wanted to go, which was Gunsan. On this day, there were (oddly enough) no flights to Gunsan. Hey, it's rare, happened once in my 12 months of shuttling back and forth between Okinawa and Korea.

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The green circle is where I wanted to go, the blue circle is where I wound up. Now a fellow serviceman on the aircraft (a first generation Korean-American in the US Navy) said, "Catch a train, it's easy. You do read Korean, right?"

Well, fortunately I did. The guy was also heading to the train station, so I tagged along. Spoke enough of the local lingo to figure out the schedule, had to go through the yellow circle to the green circle. It's where the train went.

Boarded and the train took off like a shot from a cannon, for about ten miles, then it slowed to damned near walking speed. But I eventually got to Daejon, where I discovered that the next train to Gunsan wasn't until the next day, early the next day, but still over twelve hours away.

Being the impatient type, I stepped out of the terminal. There was a gathering of taxi drivers waiting for folks wanting to depart the train station, myself being one. When they saw me they all perked up. One, the best English speaker, asked me where I was headed. When I answered, the drivers had a quick huddle, after which the English speaker informed me which of their number would haul me the fifty miles to Gunsan, and for how much.

It was pricey, but was actually cheaper than a NYC cab from JFK to Park Avenue. (Which may be a story for the future.)

Finally got home after my "big adventure." Well, I thought it was a big adventure, but it came nowhere near my mother-in-law's adventure of flying from Korea to Germany, all by herself and with a limited understanding of English and no knowledge at all of German.

I swear, my late, beloved mother-in-law could do anything she set her mind to and God help you if you got in the way. Woman was determined!

I rather miss her. She passed away less than seven months later, it was sudden and it was a shock, but we did get to see her for a month in Germany.

Anyhoo, more travel tales later, maybe.

It's hot here and I ain't much in the mood to write.

Crabby old man syndrome.

¹ By "some distance" I mean anything taking more than an hour to travel.

'Tis Done ...

A bittersweet day Thursday, the 19th instant.

Spent the day making sure the new kids knew where I'd put all of my accumulated knowledge, such as it is, in the official (unclassified) notebook for our project. Much of it was given in cookbook fashion, to wit ...

• Push the button on the bottom of such and such ...
• Make sure the light comes on ...
• Now click the right mouse button and select such and such in the menu presented ...

And much more along those lines. It's one thing to teach someone which buttons to push, it's quite another to try and convey what one should be looking for while doing so. I mean it's all well and good to see things when everything is working correctly, then there is the -

Uh, was it supposed to flash like that, freeze up, then start over?

Um, no, no, it really shouldn't do that. Try it again, success is "yup, it did it again," failure is "ah crap, it worked that time." Now we need to run it again, over and over, to see if the failure reoccurs. Oh yes, we need to turn up logging as well, so if it does fail, the developers can try and figure out why.

Passing that sort of knowledge along is much harder, it can take months, if not years, of experience to see a thing and say, "Well that wasn't quite right, was it?"

So I left them with, "if you see anything which seems even a bit off, show someone."

There's a lot of experience in the lab I left behind me, but the thing is, they have other things they need to be doing, not just shepherding the newbies through those difficult early months.

I mean if it was easy, we'd have these guys do it ...

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And based on my experience, those types tend to gravitate towards managerial roles.

That being said ...

Spent much of the day going around and saying bye to folks I know and people I've worked with. Sure I'll see some of them outside of work, it's not outside the realm of possibility, but I won't be seeing them frequently.

There are quite a few people at work that I will miss a great deal, good people, very good at their jobs, and a joy to work with. Them I will miss dearly.

Now, how about that cake?

Our boss ordered that cake early in the week, it's readily apparent that the cake decorator didn't really understand the assignment. Though they did remark that writing "quitter" on the cake was "mean." So maybe that's why they spelled it wrong?

(Also the cake decorator doesn't have a nautical background, otherwise they'd know that the phrase is "fair winds and following seas," yes, that finial "s" is important.)

The boss was somewhat mortified when she picked up the cake and saw the result. But being a very practical person (which makes her an awesome boss) she quickly realized that a messed up cake was better than no cake.

She was, of course, right.

My reaction made her feel better. "What I only get one following sea? And yes, I am quite the quitter. I see what you did there."

Oh dear, what will they do without me?

Probably get more work done, but they won't laugh nearly as much.

Time to reflect on my new state in life. It's different.

I am looking forward to getting more sleep.

Oh, the cake was absolutely delicious, so at least the baker knew their business.

Time for a ...

Ciao!

A Tale of Two Dogs ... Sort of

Kodi and Bear tucked away for a long drive.

Back in the day, when The Nuke was single and lived in Alexandria, VA, one of the highlights of each visit with her was taking her dogs out for a walk. Seems like a mundane thing but it's how we bonded with our "granddogs."

Now Bear (she's the brown one in the photo, she's a shepherd/chow mix) viewed each outing as an adventure, a thing to take her time on and enjoy every moment. Picture her stopping every few feet to smell something she found interesting. She was a big believer in stopping to smell the roses (and sometimes peeing on them).

Kodi, on the other hand (she's a pit bull/lab mix) viewed these outings as a mission. There was a destination, same place every time, and something to do at that destination. Mind you, she enjoyed these outings a great deal, but they were missions, not adventures.

While Bear was stopping and sniffing, Kodi marched on, head down, fixed in purpose and mien, determined to get the job done, then get back to the apartment.

Now today is my last day at work, my last day of full-time employment. Since 1972 I've been more like Kodi than like Bear. I was "on mission," I had a reason and a purpose for getting up everyday.

Now I can stop and "smell the roses" (no, I won't pee on them like Bear) and pretty much do what I feel like doing.

It feels a bit odd not having to head in to work any more, the novelty will eventually wear off, I'm sure.

That's all for now.

Blogging might get sparse as the holidays proceed.

We shall see.

Right now I don't really feel pressed to do much of anything.

Because I'm, ya know, retired.

Think I'll take the dogs for a walk ...

Immigrants

Goths traversant une rivière
Evariste-Vital Luminais

The New Colossus

Emma Lazarus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

While pondering the insanity of importing vast crowds of people with no skills, no jobs, and what seems to be little ambition, other than to suck on the gubmint teat, I recalled the plaque on the Statue of Liberty.

"Give me your tired, your poor ..." etc., doesn't mean, to me, "give us your freeloaders and ne'er-do-wells, we're rich enough to take care of them and don't care if they add nothing to the Nation."

I know they're not all like that. But large groups of military-aged males aren't immigrants, they're invaders. What are they fleeing? Military service in their own benighted homelands? No, there is something deeper there. I'm not sure what bargains certain politicians made with Satan to allow this, but damn, what else do they hope to gain other than power?

Import people beholden to you and they might vote for you. Or ...

They might not.

The Central Valley of California has a lot of immigrants, folks who speak Spanish at home but who stress to their kids that they need to learn English. They have strong family ties, they are believers in God, they came here to escape the corruption of their former homelands.

I know some of them, good people, the salt of the earth you might say.

Those are the folks being beckoned to come here and live in Emma Lazarus' sonnet. They're the folks we want, fighters for a better way of life. A lot of them don't like what's going on with these newer waves of "immigrants."

Want to vote in this country? - Become a citizen.

Want to be a citizen? - Learn to speak English.

Want to keep your cultural heritage? - Why not, we're supposed to be a melting pot, well, we used to be. A lot of cultures have beautiful aspects, why throw those away? I don't think you need to.

But there are rules, we ALL need to abide by them

Especially those crooked politicians who seek power and money.

I don't have the perfect answer, but we need to restrain those who would "lead" us. That's not what they're supposed to be doing, they're our representatives.

Not our bosses.

A pox on their houses if they can't fix this mess.

And a ringside seat in Hell if they can't.

Doing My Part

Seeing how I've been referenced a couple times over the past week here at the Chant, and our esteemed Chant CEO seems to be a bit worn out, I figured I would take a stab. 

First we had Juvat talking about how I am not quite elderly, although I really feel like it some days.  I wouldn't quite call myself an old soul, but I think I take on more than I should sometimes both in my family life and what I do with the Knights of Columbus.  There always seems to be something going on with the KofC or our parish, and either as a requirement of my position, or out of a sense of obligation, I often say yes and participate.  Fortunately my wife is all supportive, and it's not like I have kids at home that I would be taking time away from family, but it does seem to be a lot.  I only wish that more of our many many members would step up and take a bit off of my plate. 

For instance, we just held a youth activity at the parish school, a soccer challenge where students kick penalty shots into the corners of the goal for different scores. The 6th 7th and 8th graders participated and it took almost the entire afternoon.  I put it out to our membership, yet not a single man showed up. The PE teacher and principal were quite grateful, and the kids loved it, which is the reason we do it, but I get tired of the "we" being only "me."

It's not just the KofC, but at home I have a heavy load of the chores, seeing how my wife doesn't like to cook.  She also tends to get lost and overwhelmed in the grocery store so she hates shopping for food, which is my job, along with all the bills.  But, I also can't risk another expensive silk Tommy Bahama shirt going through the wash so I tend to do more of the laundry.  This gets to me sometimes, but it's not worth an argument so I put up with it.*

56, going on 66.

  Somebody here told me to bring back the 'stache so here you go.

I realize I'm airing a bit of dirty laundry there, but those tiny stressors do build up and you can see it on my face, which looks maybe 10 years older than it really is. Since getting a CPAP machine though I'm getting far better sleep than I was for many years. And that has reduced the sagginess under my eyes.  While I should have got that device years ago, I am definitely grateful for my Tricare and VA healthcare, probably the best benefit coming from being retired. I don't know how people afford their huge premiums and massive deductibles, barely able to afford their insurance, yet can't afford to use it either.

Speaking a bit of those struggling, let us pray for those victims of hurricane Helene, which is shaping up to be Katrina's bigger meaner younger sister. Not to get too political here but I have seen a few videos with people lamenting the amount of aid going to Ukraine, Israel, Taiwan, and others, while red blooded Americans there are getting $750.  I know it's far more complex than that, but when we have wiped out (or used any of ) our FEMA accounts to pay for all those illegal aliens that have been brought here or shown an open door, there's definitely something wrong.

Kadena AFB Burger King!   Source

Sarge referenced Okinawa a couple times recently, which is one of the things we have in common. While I wasn't stationed in that part of Japan, we operated in that region several times a year and Okinawa was always a favored divert.  Why you ask? Because it had a Burger King and a chicken place I can't remember, Popeyes maybe?  We didn't have that up in Atsugi, only a weird McDonald's that served some strange Japanese variants of U.S. fare.  I also spent some time in Okinawa at the Navy hospital, where my son and wife were after he was born premature.  Then at the end of my career, my Admiral was at White Beach on the southern end so I went there a couple times. 

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While I wouldn't trade my Naval Aviation career for anything, I do get a tad jealous of the Air Force guys, not just for their fast food, but the daily pleasures that they probably took for granted.  It's been many many years since the US Navy allowed drinking on board, so it wasn't like when we got off work we could throw one back.  But those beer days are fondly remembered, Steel Beach picnics after being at sea for 45 days straight without a port visit, three total in my career.  On that day the Chiefs would barbecue something, and each sailor and officer would get two beers each.  However, it never was just two beers each!  They really didn't want to keep leftovers down below at the end of the day, so that end of the day, if you stuck around, was quite a happy one.  Six I think was my total on one of those days. Fortunately, I had no duty or flights until the next day.  Ahh, to be young again!

I may have already written about this in the past, but if I had to do it over again I probably wouldn't have requested to go to Japan. I had just married my 23-year-old wife 6 months before, and she was quite close to her family. Taking her to Japan she had no one, save the other wives, so it was a bit tough on her.  This may have been a factor in my son being born so early.  During that time, my mother-in-law actually got a nice little letter and certificate from AT&T acknowledging her being in the top 5% of all residential customers!  This is because of the astronomic phone bills she racked up during that 3 years. 

Sarge also mentioned a video link I had shared regarding Honest Abe.  While it made for a good discussion on his post, that wasn't necessarily the type of attention I would normally want brought to myself on here.  The link was quite critical of President Lincoln and in hindsight I was rather embarrassed for sharing it.  Two lessons learned from that-  don't try to out-history a historian, and I need to not get sucked into some of these stupid videos on Tube-U.

Well, that's enough storytelling for today. Our big Mustangs By the Bay car show** is this weekend (today as you read this) and as the club president, yes I know I take on too much, I have some duties to attend to before during and after.  The opening photo is my favorite Mustang and I may have the opportunity to buy one just like it next year.  A friend of mine in Vegas is selling his, and is giving me first dibs.  We'll see if I can afford what will surely be a discounted price as he's promised, but I'm excited about the opportunity.  I thought against it at first, seeing how it's not really practical- no extra garage space, no mechanical know-how, and I already have a Mustang, but my wife said that at this point in our lives, we don't need to be practical.  Isn't she great?  Maybe I should change my tune on those household chores!

*In her defense, she does all the cleaning, some of the cooking, running errands, she's a fabulous baker (which she loves), and I have learned to keep my special shirts far away from her when it's laundry day.

** Did you notice the little easter egg in the sky on that poster?  One of the perks of being President, and having an F-4 / F-14 driver running the show.

My Turn for Reminiscing

 

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Juvat has been my muse this week because of his Monday post, with him reminiscing on the past, his family, career, and such.  I realized how there are some similarities in our careers that started in our youth.  Juvat's career paralleled his father's to some extent, as did mine.  Both he and his dad flew fighters, and both me and my dad were Carrier-based Airedales- him loading weapons on the jets, and me later flying the S-3B Viking off them. 

My interest and love for the Navy was cemented early on.  Dad would bring me to work on occasion, and I remember sitting in the Ordie shack, wearing ear-muffs, aka Mickey Mouse Ears, and soaking in all the sounds, smells, and conversations.  I was quite young, only seven when he retired, but those were very formative years.  I remember always having Navy jet photos in my room- first the F-8 Crusader, and later the F-4 Phantom as his squadron transitioned to that platform.  I loved seeing those aircraft on the tarmac at NAS Miramar where he was stationed.  My best friend, across the street,  another Miramar Navy brat, taught me how to make a paper airplane, and we'd write Phantom on the side.  I also remember going to airshows at the base, which were a thrill.  Dad was a couple of reserve  squadrons during those years of my life- a Navy TAR- (Training Active Reservist) in VF-31 and VF-302 . It was a good job for a family man with four kids as he no longer had to deploy.

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Wiki Images  

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To be honest, he never wanted me to go into Naval Aviation.  He definitely encouraged me to join the Navy, and because of my good grades, guiding me towards the Naval Academy since I had a slight leg up on the nomination process with him being retired.  However, aviation was something he found too risky and dangerous, despite his own career, seeing too many pilots not come back from Korea and Viet Nam, or crash on the carrier.  His encouragement was subtle, with him ordering me a USNA admissions catalog, which was thick with slick color photos of all things Navy, showing Midshipmen looking distinguished in their dress uniforms, or engaged in team sports, which I was heavily involved in in High School.  It also showed pictures of Midshipmen during summer training, on ships, shooting weapons, wearing flight gear, and the like- all various career paths that one could undertake after graduation.  

So I set myself on the path towards admission by seeking leadership positions on sports teams or clubs, meeting the fitness requirements, and loading up my schedule with all the hard classes, vice easy electives.  However, that Academy appointment never came, despite three nominations, as I didn't get the vision waver.  I was crushed, but that very same day my school was visited by the local Navy recruiter who asked if I had submitted an NROTC package.  I hadn't considered that path, but I did as suggested, and the rest is history.  I was far better off in NROTC anyway as the hard science and math classes nearly killed me, barely making it through.  Fortunately my grades in the other courses kept the NROTC academic advisors off my back.

Back to that aviation piece...So Nuke Surface or Subs wasn't in the cards, and I had no interest in being a Marine, so that left regular straight-stick SWO.*  I didn't really enjoy my two summers of Surface Warfare training- one on the USS Texas (CGN-39), and USS Gallant (MSO-459) - a mine sweeper out of Treasure Island on San Francisco Bay.  Yes, I got to visit Hawaii for the first time, and sailed up to the Portland Rose Festival, but SWO life just didn't excite me.  

I mentioned it before, but I actually didn't think I could get into flight school due to allergies.  However, that wasn't in my medical record, it had diminished as I got older, and thanks to a salty Chief, was something I learned not to mention to the flight docs!  As it turned out, what little hay fever I had never affected me in flight.  

One of my college summers found me in an S-3A Viking for a fam flight, which I just loved- fully acrobatic, four guys inside to shoot the bull with in flight, and a cool mission- hunting Russian subs!  Another one of the perks was that they were in San Diego- where I was born, went to college, and had lots of family.  I struggled a bit in Flight School, but did well enough to get that as my first choice- type of aircraft and duty station.  

However, while at the Fleet Replacement Squadron (FRS) at North Island, the FDNF**brief from the instructor who flew S-3s in Japan really interested me and I volunteered to go overseas.  Shortly thereafter I got engaged, but before she accepted, I warned her about my orders.  Fortunately she was all-in.  We spent three years there, but 2 years of it in total for me were spent at sea.  We found time to have our son, albeit too early- born at 29 weeks, weighing in at 2 lbs 5 oz- so he spent May through August in the NICU.  I spent two of those weeks with them, but then stupidly went back to sea, thinking about duty over family.  That was rough on my wife so a year later I took some orders that weren't the best for my career, but close to family, which she needed.  

Shore duty in San Diego was just was a blessing for us- buying the house we still live in today (and surely couldn't afford today), having our daughter, and figuring out what is really important in life.  I thought I might resign at the end of that tour, finding some more stable work-life balance, but the detailer played some games with me.  He pulled me early before my aviation commitment was up, sending me back to sea out of Bremerton, and requiring me to fulfill those orders before I could leave.  However, my son was diagnosed with some developmental disabilities during that tour, and staying in was the best thing for us.  

We rotated back to San Diego two more times, with a stint in Tampa in between.  The jobs I had at CENTCOM and at the Tactical Air Control Group just before retiring put me in the dot mil Requirements lane, working to identify and report on the capabilities and capacities the Navy needs to be an effective force.  And I've been doing that ever since.  

Looking back, I'm not sure I was perfectly suited for the Navy and flying, but it was (and still is) a great career.  I was far better at the soft skills side of things - the general, vice the technical, but I managed.  Then again, it's the rare person that winds up exactly where they thought they would.  And for the things that didn't work out, good things came from them and I look back and admire where God placed us.  

Enough reminiscing for today, save for this:

Hey Juvat, you're a muse in another way- I really loved that Texas Hill Country sunset.  Hmm, Texas...

How do I look?

*At the time, NROTC graduates were limited to "Unrestricted Line" duties- Warfare Qualified Officers, so no JAG, Med Corps, Diving, Engineering, etc.  -  Just ships, subs, aviation, and SEALS.  

**Forward Deployed Naval Force

An Unexpected Gift

무궁화
Mugunghwa
OAFS Photo¹

Today (Saturday) I chanced to look out over the battlements (the upstairs bathroom window) and espied that lovely white flower in the opening photo. Made me happy it did. Why? Well, I thought our mugunghwa had died last winter.

Do you see the gray, withered branches behind the flower? That is the ancestor (I presume) of that flower and the other buds upon the green leaves nearby. It may be the very plant itself, coming back from death.

The Missus Herself, earlier this year when I expressed concern as to why the plant wasn't leafing up like it had so many past years, assured me that it wasn't dead. Merely dormant. Or perhaps regenerating itself from deep within its root system.

What I know about plants would fit on the head of a pin, and leave plenty of room for dancing angels. Ah, but my wife, she of the green thumb, pooh-poohed my worries and told me to be patient.

Patience, as those who know me can attest, is not one of my strong suits. Oh well, the seeming demise of one of my favorite plants didn't stay foremost in my thoughts, only when I ventured into the backyard did I see those dried up branches and sigh for what once was.

Our next door neighbor has at least three of them, two with white blossoms, one with purple. So I did at least get to see them blossom in late July into August, which is when they're at their peak. Hers have all shed their flowers, ours is just beginning.

In Korea these flowers are known as the eternal blossom that never fades. I can see why.

That which I thought gone, was actually just waiting to come back.

There's a lesson there I think.

I will take it for what it is, a thing of beauty which graces my humble existence, and be thankful for it.

A fitting thought for a Sunday.




¹ The white flower with the red center is the 무궁화 (mugunghwa) or Rose of Sharon (hibiscus syriacus), the national flower of the Republic of Korea. Yes, there are marigolds as well, and very lovely they are.

Library? What Library?

OAFS Photo

I blame Tuna ...

Well, seeing as how you asked ...

The library is big, very big, not Library of Congress big but "What? You bought MORE books," big. At least that's how The Missus Herself sees it. She's probably right, I have reached the point where I might need to start culling the herd, or at least ponder adding an addition to the manse. The former would hurt me, deep in my soul, the latter would hurt me, deep in my wallet.

How many books? My guess is well north of 500, but somewhat south of a thousand. How far south, who knows. In addition to the shelves you see above, which make up one wall in my computer room, there are two additional, much smaller, bookcases in two of the other rooms of the house. Not to mention the piles of books on the floor of the computer room and the two piles of books in the bedroom. Hhmm, maybe I do have more than a thousand books.

The oldest book I have is probably the Bible I received at the age of thirteen, no, it's not one of those printed by Gutenberg, though I am indeed old, I am not that old. Second edition at best ...

I do not lend books. Probably (no, pretty damned likely) because of these two incidents -

1. Hey, I'm going TDY to the Philippines, got anything I could read while I'm there? (No, not everyone runs the bars when not at work in the P.I.) To which I said yes. I loaned the fellow two books by Sven Hassel, upon his return I enquired as to where the two books were. He answered "probably still in my hotel room." I probably said something uncomplimentary. Yeah, I was pissed off. I was an airman, he was a staff sergeant, so no reprisals were possible.
2. Had a very good book on the Confederate States Army which my former pastor expressed an interest in reading, so I loaned it to him. Months later, he had gotten divorced, he was involved in some minor controversy and had left my church, said ex-pastor moving to another town. His life was a wreck at that point (he has since recovered quite nicely and we are still friends.) I didn't ask what happened to the book, figuring it was irretrievably lost.(It was.) But from that day forth, my books don't get loaned. I hate borrowing books from others as well, I'm scared that a page might get smudged, or crinkled or (Heaven forfend) I might actually lose it.

So no, I don't rent pigs, er, loan books.

(Source)

I am my own librarian and I pay myself in books. Seems like a conflict of interest, doesn't it? (The Missus Herself calls it collusion ..., potato, potahto)

Most cherished books? That's a tough one. If pressed I would answer with the following list: Swords Around a Throne, Hunt for Red October, A Time for Trumpets, Shogun, and no doubt a number of others which escape me at the moment.

Faves? See the previous list.

Military history is my thing (duh) but damned near anything by Tom Clancy (his originals not the "Tom Clancy with ..." stuff,), anything by Lee Child (Jack Reacher books), James Clavell (Shogun, Tai-pan, etc.), I'm also a big fan of: Stephen Coonts (Flight of the Intruder and the entire Jake Grafton series), Dale Brown (Flight of the Old Dog and more), and there' probably a dozen other writers of fiction I can't remember right now. I read a lot, there is always at least book in progress, sometimes two (reading, not writing, got four, or so, in progress on the writing side. Yep, I need to finish the first one.)

Rick Atkinson, mentioned the other day, is a big favorite, as is Ian Toll, and James Hornfischer was a great author, I was stunned at his passing. James Holland has done some great stuff on World War II, he also has videos on YouTube which are well worth watching, par exemple -

That video. all by itself, sent me out to buy that book (next day I think, at Barnes & Noble). Now if someone mentions his name and "book" in the same sentence, that's usually all it takes to send me off to look for that book (unless I know I already have it).

Oh, a book I forgot The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara, a huge favorite, loved the movie as well. I've read (and enjoyed, and own) most of his son Jeff's books as well.

So yeah, books, big fan.

Chanson d'Automne

OAFS Photo

So yes, it's October, and for my friends in the Resistance ...

Les sanglots longs

Des violons

De l'automne

Blessent mon cœur

D'une langueur

Monotone.¹

And yes, Jean has a long mustache.

Tout suffocant

Et blême, quand

Sonne l'heure,

Je me souviens

Des jours anciens

Et je pleure;

Et je m'en vais

Au vent mauvais

Qui m'emporte

Deçà, delà,

Pareil à la

Feuille morte.

That first bit was in the movie The Longest Day and also in the book by the same name by Cornelius Ryan. Messages were sent to France over the radio like this, many were just nonsense, some were actually messages. I believe this one signaled that the Allied landings were to be expected within the next 24 hours. So yeah guys, go out and blow up some German stuff.

The second bit is the rest of the poem. Ever wonder what it meant in English? Me neither, until today. Here it is, en anglais ...

When a sighing begins

In the violins

Of the autumn-song,

My heart is drowned

In the slow sound

Languorous and long

Pale as with pain,

Breath fails me when

The hours toll deep.

My thoughts recover

The days that are over,

And I weep.

And I go

Where the winds know,

Broken and brief,

To and fro,

As the winds blow

A dead leaf.²

So I started this post with a rather tongue-in-cheek attitude, then I read those words above and ...

Damn.

Things got all kinda dark and serious.

Fall is a time of mixed emotions for me, I absolutely love the season, the leaves changing color, the way the afternoon light falls upon my backyard, the fresh crispness in the air which reminds us that the cold is coming. But for now, bring in the harvest, enjoy the bounty of the earth, and, if'n you don't mind, hand me another pumpkin ale.

One of these, to be specific ...

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Don't judge, I don't drink pumpkin spice coffee or any other concoction like that, just the Pumpkinhead ale, well, pumpkin pie is nice, on two occasions, Thanksgiving and Christmas. The rest of the year it's apple pie. (No, not beer, just in the pie realm. Though apple cider ain't bad ...)

Now where was I? Oh yeah, dark and serious.

For about a decade after high school I didn't like fall, I missed playing football mostly. Then I realized that fall was awesome, fall was fun. So for nearly two decades I enjoyed fall, especially in Germany where it was the kids' soccer season. All of my kids played and I coached, refereed, and was even league commissioner one year.

It was cold, it was wet at times, but there were those days where the air was crisp and the sun shown brightly on the green football pitch. Those were superb days. We had a snack shack near the fields called the Imbiss (which is simply the German word for "snack"). Something like this ...

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Ours was rather Americanized, which was something of a disappointment, until I tried their chicken sandwich. Out of this world, even The Missus Herself has fond memories of that sandwich. (The bun was fresh and delicious and the chicken breast was an actual chicken breast, not some weird-ass patty thing which tasted "like chicken," you feel me?) Made one forget about the days where the kids were getting all wet and muddy out on the pitch. Though in hindsight, I remember those days all too well. Okay, my knees remember them.

Then just two weeks shy of Thanksgiving, one of our cats died unexpectedly. He was only five, so a holiday I truly loved was marked by tragedy.

I recovered slowly until I was enjoying fall once more, then our other German cat died. October 17th, so Halloween, ruined. But the new cats, which came home to live with us on the 20th of October made things better in short order.

I remember the boys (Pat and Tiger) but I don't let it ruin fall for me anymore. This fall, things are better, yes, we are cat-less, but we have each other. I have the better part of that deal, I have The Missus Herself, and she, well, she's stuck with me.

So I've got that going for me, hhmm, time for a Pumpkinhead, methinks ...

Ciao!

¹ First stanza of Chanson d'automne" ("Autumn Song"), a poem by Paul Verlaine (1844–1896)

² Wikipedia's translation of this poem, in a word, sucks, this one is much better and is the one I used.

Answer to yesterday's "Complete the sentence" - I Am ... all over the map.

So Yeah ...

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It's Spring, has been for a few weeks but, to tell the truth, I'm just not into it yet.

Loss of a family member will do that. While it would be nice for the world to just stop and leave you alone while you deal with things, that ain't the way it works.

I highly doubt anyone who visits here regularly will question that "family member" part of the sentence in the preceding paragraph. I know that some folks don't view it that way. To them it was "just a cat" or "just a dog," to my way of thinking there is no "just a ..." attached to any living thing. Buck once said I'm make a good Buddhist. I don't know about that, but a reverence for all living things, yes, even the ones I eat, is part and parcel of who I am.

Nearly twenty years is an awfully long time to spend with someone, or some being if you prefer, and to lose that is profound and somewhat shattering. To say the least.

I am still functioning though, just needed some time away from the keyboard, away from one of my responsibilities in this here existence. I took some time off from work as well. Ya know, the paying job. While blogging is work (those who know, know), it's not unpleasant. The paying job is also not unpleasant but the hours can be. (I don't like getting up early. While I like mornings, they're best viewed from the perspective of one's bed or one's kitchen. NOT whilst commuting to work,)

I do appreciate all the kind words received over the last cuppla, both here and in real life. Those keeping score will know that we lost Anya a week ago today. And a hard day that was. While I won't go into any detail, the pain is too fresh, I will say this, she didn't go easy. She was a fighter. She was until her last breath.

But it's time to get back at it, so to speak.

Not sure if I'm going to ease into it, or head at it full bore, but I feel the need to write.

We'll see how it goes. 

Art and Life

Winter Landscape by Peder Mørk Mønsted
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A friend of mine posted that opening painting on Facebook the other day. It made me stop and think.

I've been there, not that exact place, but many just like it.

I remember the cold air upon my face, the smell of the air in my nostrils, and yes, even the taste of the air in my mouth.

I can hear the winter birds chirping and flitting from bush to bush. The painting sets a mood, a scene, which I feel deep in my bones. The painting sings to a part of me that remembers being a kid, with no worries, no plans, only the capacity to enjoy each new day. Regardless of the weather.

It's sunny, but it's cold. The painting feels like late winter to me, most of the cold and the snow is behind those folks in the painting. Spring isn't far away, but far enough that they know there is still much to endure before they feel the warmth of spring.

Art should evoke a pleasant feeling, it should sing to something deep inside of you. At least that's how I feel about it.

We have much to endure before spring comes again.

And I'm not talking about the weather.

We live in troublesome times.