The Crack - Do you know?

It was the crack of dawn.

No, not like the crack of the plumber when he or she is working in the cabinet under your kitchen sink.  But then again, if your plumber was in fact, a she and her name was Dawn then indeed that also would be "the crack of Dawn."

However, it was more like the crack a baseball makes when it connects directly with a high, inside fast pitch, sending the ball on it's way to a line-drive home run, clearing the bases for a grand slam.

But also like a visual crack, the kind you find when you hold your wine glass up to see if you have dried it properly after washing it and accidentally clinked it on the side of the sink in the process, thereby causing the glass's death knell with a crack from stem to lip.

It was in fact both those things, both visual and aural, which you might more accurately describe as "the crack(s) of dawn."

So you are thinking; 'What was it then?'

To that I respond; I don't know.  I wasn't there. 

Why I Blog

Since I began posting stories on a blog site in 2008, many people have asked why I do it. Okay, okay, one... one person asked why. I figure "Well now, another story to write!  Let's do this! 

I have posted over 400 stories since I was first made aware blogs existed. (Note: that number is not at all intended to impress. Thousands of others have written a hell of a lot more.)  Being invented between 1994 and 1997 depending on who you ask, blogs have become a huge part of life along with other forms of expression including vlogs, podcasts and a lot of word- or length-limited social media venues like Tic Tok, Snapchat and Instagram. And let's not forget that monumental tribute to extreme views and toxicity, Twitter (now "X" for no particular reason). With blogs, all you have to do is go to a site like Blogger (the one I use), Tumbler, Word Press, Squarespace and many others then crank up your story...it's intuitive, fairly simple and most sites are free. Most (all?) even include templates you can use to spice up your page.

Header for series of stories about a "charmed" life
Click here for link and full page view

But hey...this story is about "why?"  Why I do it. It began innocently enough on a "dark and stormy night." Wait, I was actually on an airplane, flying to work or flying home. I was in the middle of a second career as a health care contract management consultant and I was spending a lot of time on the road. I had learned how to produce winning technical contract proposals so I found good work supporting some of the largest (Aetna, Prudential, Unisys etc.) and some of the smallest health care firms all over the US. In the end I had also worked on mostly Medicaid and Medicare contracts for most of the nation's 40+ health care Quality Improvement Organizations at their home locations in more than half the 50 States. So I flew a lot. This meant a lot of time in airplane seats. It was actually just short of a million United air miles according to their tally. If you count other airline travels the total was probably more.

With all that air time I would often pull out my laptop and hack away at short stories about my most fortunate (at least in my mind) life. I enjoyed the writing even though I had no target or end in mind. I would return home, pop them up for my sainted wife Julieann to read, she would kindly compliment me and that was enough. That made me want to write more.

Header for blog about "the ride."
Click here for link and full page view

Then I found out about blogs so I posted some of them. I figured that would keep my stories around and easily accessible for quite some time. With that, I found out there were others who seemed to enjoy my stories so I kept at it because... because I'm a sucker for a kind word it's that simple.

I had (have) two main topics and thus, two blogs; one about riding Harley Davidsons and the other about life its own self. It was great reliving some of the remarkable, at least to me, experiences I have had in my life (Julieann says I have a "charmed" one). It's not about becoming rich which is good because that never happened. It's about the richness of love and of experience and that did happen. I have had more than my share of both. Along the way, I have also edited and organized my two blogs into two books. I have published the first in hardcover and both as Amazon ebooks. There are also audio and ebook versions (shameless plug). I haven't monetized the blogs but I have sold a fair share of the books which further stokes my somewhat fragile ego.

Many people have said I have a "gift," a gift for writing.  Okay, okay one.  One person (immediate family excluded) has said I have a "gift."  That, plus periodic complimentary blog responses and book reviews keep me feeling good about it all.  I can also pop any of the stories up, do a little reading and editing and relive the fortunate experiences I've had.  It's a fun way for an old retired Air Force Medical Service Corps officer, later consultant to pass time, especially on airplanes and during lazy weekends. I am simply writing my own history as I see it, still with the wondrous eyes of a little kid who spent his early years as a North Dakota hayseed. Yes there is more...there is always more.

12/11/2025 update:  I have now published a third and final (I believe) book, a compendium of experiences, a memoir that pulls most everything together.  It's called "The Hayseed" and is selling on Amazon in paperback, ebook and audio book form. https://a.co/d/1AW0OCL

"He Ain't Heavy..."

It occurred on a barren plain in "Nort" Dakota on a damn cold day in February, 1954.  Earlier his parents-to-be, Martha Alice and Francis LeRay had grown weary of their spoiled 7 year-old son, Thomas and decided to test the proverbial waters once more.  They thoughtfully asked Thomas for his opinion and his answer was; "Absolutely not.  No way in Hell.  I am not sharing any of this pitiful Dakota plain or either one of my parents with a sibling." You see, even at 7, Thomas was already showing signs of a sophisticated command of the English language. 

Martha and Ray wisely ignored Thomas's rants and so, David Claud William was born.  He was famously named after three gentlemen; "Claud", his father's father, "William", his mother's father and "David" from the 1954 abridged edition of the Willow City ND (pop. around 250) phone book.

When Martha brought David home from the hospital, Thomas attempted to take him out with that very same phone book but his aim was off.  They had outhouses in Willow City in those days and he was banished to the Campbell's version 100 feet behind their home until mother Martha began to believe he would accept his little brother.  As you will find later in this story, Thomas remains in that outhouse to this day.

When he was still very little, David and his family moved to Michigan.  They sold every possession they could not fit in or on their 1949 Chevy and headed across the U.S.  They took the route through the northern peninsula and rode the ferry (where Thomas tried and failed to throw him in) into lower Michigan, settling in the Pontiac area near Ray's parents, brothers and sisters. It was a confusing time for the Campbells.  When everyone else was packing their autos and heading West to see what Horace Greely was talking about, they were heading East.  But hey... compasses weren't cheap back then.

After a few years in Michigan and Ohio, where David was brainwashed in a Catholic elementary school, the family packed up again and moved to the Seattle area.  Yes, they finally were able to afford a used compass and get things pointed West.

They settled in Seattle where David grew up in the Renton area.  During that time he fell in love with guitars and cats.  Tom, never being a big cat fan, attempted to hit his brother with a much larger Seattle phone book and missed again.  Martha could not find an outhouse to banish Tom to so she made him sign up for the Air Force and he left, pretty much never to return.  Yes, Thomas was in a permanent outhouse of sorts.

DCWC - Covid hair 2021
(no barber)

David decided he was going to hit Thomas with something other than a phone book if he ever returned to Seattle so he began studying martial arts in the Chinatown area.  There, he would become an expert at the Bruce Lee style of kung fu as well as the ancient oriental custom of drinking hot teas instead of water while exercising.  HelllOOOooooo!!!  He also became quite proficient at wrecking brand new sports cars.

As the years went on, David enjoyed the favor of his Mother and Father without the distractions of his evil, but much more handsome brother Tom.  He and his father became very close and would often stop at a little shop on Maple Valley Highway in the morning for donuts together.  These moments were all the more tender when you consider they shared the same coffee cup for dunking.  And yes, they did require a lot of napkins.

David also cultivated a passion for playing music that has irritated neighbors and annoyed close family members for decades.  For example, when pressed his brother Tom will swear David can play guitar just like Jimi Hendrix though he will also claim Hendrix' God-like status in the music world is completely overblown.  The truth, he will claim, is that Hendrix is no more than a common deity who will be revered for eternity whereas David will be revered only among family, friends and anyone who is fortunate enough to hear him play. The exception of course, will be his brother Tom who will only "Revere" Paul.

As the years continued to go on, David developed a devout love for the word "Boeing" and, unable to afford a trampoline to help him simulate the sound, signed up for a job.  He would prove to have a checkered career there, working mysterious black boxes, getting sophisticated security clearances and transferring from plant to plant up and down the Interstate. Along the way he also got some damn fine acronyms to hang after his name, stuff like MCSE and Cisco.  He became a shepherd for engineers and, in fact, was named as one before retiring to a life of playing video games with his son Dakota.

With Dakota, David Claud William had stumbled across the meaning of life. Considering his success at Boeing and his fine son it's a reasonable bet that neither would have happened if Thomas would have had better aim with those phone books!

No sir..."He ain't heavy...he's my brother."

  

"The Journey" -

Yeah, that’s what my brother from another mother, Don “Aught” Palen calls it; “The Journey." This is a hell of a story that begins with the remarkable dedication of a front-line health care worker who, years later was asked to pony up for an amazing act of selflessness.

It was 20+ years ago.  She developed a fever that evening.  As she laid in bed, he kept getting her more blankets to help with her shivering cold.  The next morning, she continued fighting whatever it was and remained shivering under the covers.  He had asked her often if she thought she should go to the emergency room but they both ended up thinking that she, being young and healthy would snap out of it.  They had both worked years in health care; she a radiology technician and him a "pencil-pushing" administrator so you can easily surmise (correctly) they both knew just enough to be dangerous.

Then, she said; "I have to get up, take a shower and go to work."  He tried to insist she call in sick but she knew her clinic would be short-staffed that day and said; "I have to." 

So she climbed out from under all those blankets and went and a day later, she was in the hospital suffering from a massive bacterial infection.  The staff there quickly got control of things and a couple days later she was discharged.  They had earlier planned a plane trip to visit his family and, thinking (again wrongly) things were well under control, made the journey.  While there, she developed symptoms again, mainly fever, and they immediately headed for their doctor upon their return home.  The doctor examined her and quickly decided she should be readmitted.  The doc, a fine one named Al-Hariri, looked very concerned and suggested an ambulance but her husband said he could take her "right away" and might get there faster.  When they arrived at the hospital entrance maybe ten minutes later - there was a crew waiting and they quickly went to work, got her in the ICU and began treating her.  After an intense treatment of antibiotics she was over it but, unbeknownst to the couple, she had been septic with renal failure and had "20%" damage to her kidneys.  Over time, that and continuous blood pressure problems caused the damage to progress.

Years later, her kidney function had deteriorated to the point that her nephrologist decided she should begin treatment.  The plan was to adopt a surgical technique calling for a peritoneal implant to support home dialysis three days a week.  She had spent  a very busy life tending to her family, her work, her home and anything that needed attention so the transition to being tied to a machine was threatening and somewhat depressing for her. In fact, in almost 52 years of marriage he had never known her to be feeling quite as bad about something.

Julieann Marie Campbell,
Mother of Tyler and Samantha
Wife of Tom
(April 27, 2021 - two weeks prior)

As the day of surgery fell to within two weeks, she prayed for a donor transplant; "C'mon! If you (God) are going to help let's get going!" She had been on and off a kidney transplant list due to other complications for the previous four years and she was ready...definitely ready. Meanwhile, her husband caught himself occasionally trying to imagine life without her. (He could not. Would not.)

Then, on Easter Sunday she received a call; "We have a donor, a match and you are fourth on the list of candidates. If you agree to the procedure, these are the things we need you to do to prepare so you can respond quickly..."  That night around 9PM the call came; "You are now on top of the list.  Can you be here by 10PM?  We will get you prepared for the donor who has not yet passed."  The next afternoon surgery began and she was out of the OR around 7:30PM.    

It ended up being a long week of constant noise and terrible hospital food but her amazing spirit, an Almighty presence and a great transplant team carried her through. He was fortunate to be able to bring her home late yesterday afternoon and she is now resting. They are not yet out of the woods with this. But past the trees, he can see some early morning sun gracing the meadow and that is where Julieann and he are determined to go. Over the course of their marriage, she has created, cultivated and nurtured his soul. It is completely hers and will always be. She has always maintained that he leads a “charmed life” and that is certainly true with this latest indelible mark.

Julieann now has a “zipper” and he has two. He has concluded; as we all grow older we change somewhat like the moth/butterfly phenomenon only we, instead transition into luggage with zippers all over.

Note:  I have a hero who, 15 years ago donated one of his kidneys to his daughter who today is happily married and well. Byron Geer is, at the moment of this writing, kicking back in the Spring warmth of Florida and sipping a well-deserved cranberry juice/vodka cocktail.  My main hero though is currently resting on our couch. 

Julie and I feel fortunate, or "charmed" you might say, to be in recovery. We hope you are all doing well, vaccinated, loved and not gathering too many zippers for your luggage.

Lemon-Aid*

Ensconced in various forms of lockdown, distancing, sheltering in place, masks and non-touching for over 12 months now.  All since mid-February 2020.

Strange and deadly world this.

Yet, we decide how to adapt, survive, then move on eh?!

Lately, it has occurred to me that certain good things have come about as a result though.  And so, a little play on the word "lemonade" to illustrate here;

Lemons - man, we have our share don't we? 

• A deadly insurrection attempt to destroy democracy inside our nation's capital building.
• Militias and racists wandering around like they own the place. (But they are only part owners right?!  They need to share like the rest of us common folks.) 
• Our unenviable position as world's leader in cultivating the incidence and death rate of coronavirus 19. 
• Politicians spinning anything and everything to acquit themselves of any responsibility for America's declining positions on world trade, international relations, promoting peace and on...and on.
• 
  Social media trolls highlighting and spreading viral lies, bots and hatred - like a world-wide edition of the National Enquirer.
• Voter suppression in a country that was once regarded as the seat of democracy.
• Decaying infrastructure that once had us a (the?) world leader in manufacturing and transportation. 
• Climate change that continues to progress rapidly with the US chief among naysayers.
• A growing income gap between the wealthy and the common man.

Yeah, there's more I'm sure but it's time to move on to the bright side.

Aid - sure we've got some!

• 2020 Nobel Prize to the World Food Programme!  Want to set the stage for the emergence of innovative, bright, humanitarian world leaders?  Make sure they are not hungry!
• Increased political involvement of the average American.  Want to right a sinking ship?  Call on the Common Man! Vote!  I know we elect politicians with a mandate to represent our best interests but all too often greed and political survival win them over post-election.  The only way to straighten some (most?) of them out is to vote.
• Togetherness:  Months and months of closeness have put new light on many (most?) relationships.  We've been successfully expanding and exploring new ways to be together through media and video conferencing like Zoom and Google Meet.
• Telemedicine:  Yes it's booming and convenient.  An online discussion with your doc followed by a prescription if needed that is electronically delivered to your preferred pharmacy and ready to pick up an hour or so later?  Pretty cool.
• Home gyms:  Many have figured out how to stay in shape with home-based exercises and equipment. (See: dumbbell inflated prices and shortages)
• Notables:
• Amanda Gorman
• A new President
• Jamie Raskin
• Stacey Abrams 
• Greta Thunberg
• Simone Biles
• (added in April, 2022) Volodymyr Zelenskyy
• Alexei Navalny

William Dicconson "Dicc" Bowdler

There are an abundance of bad things about social media that's for damn sure.

But, there are also plenty of good things too; like keeping in close contact with family members and old pals.  Last week, I was able to locate a friend I had lost track of for more than 35 years.  Family matters, work, education and relocations all contributed to losing touch with someone I admired and was once fortunate to call "close friend."

William "Dicc" Bowdler and I had worked together as Air Force Intelligence technicians at March Air Force Base, Riverside California in the early 70's.  We and our wives were also neighbors most of the time.  We had a lot in common, sharing interests in golf, music, football, family and humor.

I was drifting along pretty smooth with a new bride, Julieann and some interesting work I enjoyed.  I had no particular plans to do anything more until I found out Dicc was also attending college night classes.  Somehow, I appreciated his example.  I was thinking..."if he can do it I can, and probably should do it." So I began the same...believing it would be a useful way to get ahead, again with nothing particular in mind.  I also found out about College Level Placement exams that could get a person advanced quicker if successfully challenged.  I took those then had an overseas assignment where I was able to take a bunch of University of Maryland classes.  Next I attended Glendale Community College night classes near Luke Air Force Base, Arizona and all of a sudden I was eligible for full-time Air Force "Bootstrap" sponsored extension classes with Chapman College in the San Bernardino, CA area.

Julie and I had to move ourselves from Phoenix to San Bernardino to take advantage of the Bootstrap program.  As I discussed the option with Dicc, who was still stationed at March, just over 10 miles from San Bernardino, he thoughtfully offered to rent a U-Haul there, drive it Phoenix and help us with the move.  It was a great gesture Julie and I will never forget.  It helped relieve the stress we were feeling although I still managed to cut myself (more like scratch actually) with an electric razor the morning of the move - guess I was a little wound up!  But still, there was Dicc, happy and helpful and of course Julieann, who by the way has stepped in to help with anything...every single time for the past 51+ years now.

With Dicc's example and assistance, Julie and I would have a successful move, graduate from Chapman and get the whole college thing done in three and a half years.  I applied and was

Dicc and his lady, Joan "Pixie" Mamone
April, 2020

commissioned in the Air Force Medical Service Corps shortly after.  Dicc, meanwhile, completed his degree, completed his tours with the Air Force and eventually left to pursue career and life in his Elyria, Ohio hometown.

Dicc and I managed to stay in touch for a few years after once meeting briefly in Chicago for a great reunion dinner at the Signature Room atop the Hancock Tower overlooking the Magnificent Mile.  Not long after, we lost touch though as our day-to-day lives with family and work took over.

Then years later; the Internet, Google and Facebook arrived and made it possible to search for old friends.  Once in a while, I would enter Dicc's name in Google and try to track him down.  It didn't help that I had somehow spelled his name "Dick" as I had missed the correct version many years earlier.  Somehow, I eventually discovered him as a former member and President of the Ohio Bailiffs and Court Officers Association but when I inquired, they had lost contact with him too.  Next, I took on the Facebook search feature and noticed this person referring to himself as "Dicc Bowdler" looked a hell of a lot like my old pal.  I sent him a Facebook message and that was it!  Now, he and I can swap lies to our heart's content even though we live on separate coasts (mine's better.)

So Dicc, you see, set the example that would shape my working careers.  Without it, I would have never been Administrator of an Air Force Hospital nor would I have added a successful 20+year career as a health care administration consultant.  I am forever grateful and maybe, just maybe, we can one day soon look across the dinner table at some fine dining establishment and make terrible jokes for our forgiving wives.  

I can't wait.

  

 

Pete - and the Magic Bowling Ball

I was junior Air Force Medical Service Corps officer and a pretty raw, AFIT sponsored grad student resident in the Medical College of Virginia Health Care Administration program. The residency was a 10-month program and I, being on active duty, was completing mine at Malcolm Grow Medical Center on Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland. Colonel John Gildner (RIP) was my preceptor although my most active day-to-day advisor was the Associate Administrator.

The Associate and I also participated on one of the Center's bowling teams. My first time there, I was searching the house racks for a suitable bowling ball with little luck. Being left-handed, this was a common occurrence for me as the balls are typically drilled for right-handers.  The Associate...noticing my predicament and, also being left-handed, kindly offered to let me use his personal bowling ball that was custom drilled.  I took him up on the offer and promptly bowled what I believe was my first 200+ game ever.  When we finished for the evening, I borrowed the Associate's ball again and took it to the counter where I asked the clerk to make me a ball just like it..."exactly like it if possible."

Years, and a handful of bowling leagues went by and that was the last time I ever bowled 200 or better - even using the custom ball I affectionately called "Pete."  "Best laid plans...." right?!

The Associate had a great laugh and an "attack the day" sort of style I appreciated - even though he often spoke of leaving the Medical Service Corps he seemed to really enjoy his work. (I didn't realize he was probably joking about leaving.) He ended up remaining with the Air Force and later became the second Medical Service Corps officer to be promoted to Brigadier General.  

Thank you again for the loan General!

Management 101 note:  Early on in my residency, Colonel Gildner called me into his office and chewed me out like there was no tomorrow.  I forget what it was for but it was the first and last time in over 50 work years I had/have ever been chewed out like that.  Then, at the end of my residency he called me something that again hasn't happened, before or after; a "great man." Finally, as a parting gift, he gave me a copy of "The Go-Getter."  Here's a synopsis:

"It's a straightforward parable about a young war veteran who's handed an opportunity that will either make or break his career. If he accepts the job and pulls it off, he's a go-getter; if he fails, it's curtains. The kid's motto-"It shall be done"-sums up Kyne's point: even if you're unsure, say you can do it. Then figure out how to do it and make sure you succeed. Go above and beyond."

The message worked well for me, beyond my 24-year Air Force retirement at the tender age of 41 and through my subsequent 30-odd consulting years; first, with Schubert Associates and then with my own firm, Campbell Health Management, Inc.  Along the way, I found most consultants shared the same basic principle; If someone asks if you can do something, just say "yes." (Get the engagement then if you or someone on your staff can't do it, find and vet someone who can...under your umbrella.)  You'll figure it out from there.  Sure it doesn't always work but it is a hell of a ride, even if the bowling ball isn't "Magic." 

Seventy Fo No Mo

Photo of the Dumb Bell's dumb bells.
The rocker comes later...
Hopefully much, much later.

November 2, 2020

This is the plan...

'Going to try to do 75 old man pushups when I turn 75

That will be soon, on ________ _, 2020

(I'll never tell. Hint:  Sometime in the next six weeks -

Give or take

Just because it's a reasonable way

To help me see 76

Gonna' come back to this one later - with video too.

That's the plan.

November 20, 2020

Video is complete and posted on YouTube.

Click on this puppy!

The Ant

Yes, I saw him (maybe her)

Just yesterday

It was alone

Exploring our bathroom.

Normally you would see it

In line, tandem running with thousands of fellow workers

In two lines back and forth

Harvesting some source of nourishment

For the bivouac

For a moment

I thought of myself as a myrmecologist.

(No I didn't but interesting word eh?! Yes, I just came across it and wanted to use it)

This little nanitic (Whoops!  There's another one.)

Was off on a solo mission

To locate bounty for the bivouac and maybe the Queen.

Courageous I thought...

Adventurous I thought...

But in my bathroom? (I thought)

Then, I got a little antsy so I took him out with my forefinger.

Now, the ant 'sleeps with the fishes.'

  

Golf - The Damn Game Has Nuances...Who Knew?!

When it began, I was still a kid. I mean I was 19 but I was a shining tribute to the word 'naive.' At that point I was in the Air Force, a public health technician stationed on Terciera island in the Azores.

Terciera Golf Course Clubhouse

I had been there about a year and was enjoying life on the island but I was a little bored. One day, some of my fellow hospital folks invited me to try the game of golf. I was involved in other sports and I had little interest in golf. Until then I had always thought it was something a person should take up when too old to participate in other sports. But I went. And I had a fine time trying to whack that little gutta percha ball.  

That first day I rented a set of clubs and had a caddy!  Yes, caddies were readily available there. As I recall there were two types.  A "Class A" caddie knew a lot about the game and could even coach a neophyte like me pretty well.  A "Class B" caddie may have had a few playing tips but mainly carried your clubs.  They were all kids although some may have been in their early teens. An "A" caddie cost a buck and a "B" caddie cost $.50 so the price was right even for a junior enlisted airman like me.

#1 Tee (I think)
We used to try to cut the hole short by
driving over the trees on the right.

It wasn't long before I made my most expensive purchase of my life up to that point. It was a set of Ben Hogan irons and woods and a Ben Hogan "Rail" putter. With new shoes and a new bag I was in Fat City and loving it!  I was soon playing every weekend most of the year although we had to contend with some fairly serious rain in the Fall and Winter. Sometimes, during a hard rain with wind it came down horizontal. To cope, we would open our large golf umbrellas, sit them on the ground and crouch behind rather than position them over our heads. The rain would generally stop pretty quick though and we could get on with the game. 

Many Saturdays, we would play two rounds, 36 holes with lunch at the club house in between. Another bonus included our sturdy caddies. That allowed us to occasionally ask one to go back to the clubhouse and get us some beer while one of the others carried two bags. Tough life I know!

It wasn't long before I was filling in a handicap card after every round and, with my caddie's (several of them) guidance I was learning the fundamentals. A year or so later, toward the end of my time there I was shooting in the mid to low 80s and carrying a 11-13 handicap. Pretty average for someone who played as much as me but good enough to keep me happy.

Circa 1966 - I'm sitting in one of the course rain shelters.
"I'm ready! Are we up yet?!"
The position?  Ball and tee in one hand
and Miller High Life in the other.
Perfect.

One early morning, we were just getting ready and were one short of a foursome when a man asked to join us. We learned he was a Major and carried a pretty low single digit handicap.  He wanted to make a Nassau bet on the round and we began horse trading over how many strokes he would give me. I was the only one who would negotiate with him for some reason and I was pretty fresh at it so he ended up giving me only one stroke a side.  I recall by my reckoning it should have been three strokes a side but I foolishly agreed. So we had a one dollar Nassau going and that meant I was probably destined to lose a buck on the front nine, another buck on the back and another for the entire 18 holes.

Then we began play.  There is no way to explain it other than I was on fire that day.  I could hardly miss and shot a one over par 37 on the front nine.  The Major had pretty much stopped speaking by the fifth or sixth hole and grudgingly paid me my dollar before excusing himself from our group as soon as we finished the front nine. I was pretty sure he thought I was hustling him. That was definitely not the case. I was just in the zone and in fact, have not played like that since. I later quit the game for a few years here and there. I needed time for things like a couple of Southeast Asia tours, undergraduate (mostly night) school and graduate school.  I returned to the game periodically but did not play nearly as often and never got the same handicap back...shooting more like the mid to low 90's instead of the 80's. Closest I have come in fact was a couple of 41's and those were spread out over the next 50 years!

Still, learning in the Azores could not have been a better environment.  A beauty of a course, expert caddies and a lot of weekend rounds made it damn near perfect. I just wish that Major would have come around and motivated me more often!

You never know what's going to happen out there folks...lots of nuances and on top of that, someone just might shoot far above their normal score.  

       

Hotel Breakers - The Underbelly

Ohio's Hotel Breakers first opened in 1905.  It is located at the world famous Cedar point amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio and boasts the world's largest, fastest roller coasters.

Hotel Breakers - June 2017

Today, the hotel has more than a thousand rooms. Back in the summer  of 1961 when this adventure occurred it had over 800.  Most of the summer workers there were young foreigners on a (lowly paid) American adventure. 

1961 was also the year a couple of enterprising young Huron High School sophomores applied to work somewhere in the park.  One was 17 years old and the other (yours truly) was 15.  The park only hired people age 17 or over and the younger one had to get a Social Security card so he lied about his age when signing up.  For some reason back then, the Social Security folks never questioned his age.

They both were hired and set to work in the hotel's Breakers Cafe, at that time seating around 400.  It was a busy, noisy place but that didn't bother the two at all.  The older one had a main job working on the cafe clipper (dishwasher),  rinsing off dirty dishes before running them through.  The younger one was assigned to bus tables.  His bussing equipment...a large 30" or so diameter tray he soon learned to haul one-handed and loaded through the packed restaurant.  He had fun learning that maneuver.

Occasionally, the young one would be moved into the cavernous hotel kitchen to assist with simple food preparation. Once, his job was to make coleslaw. Crazy thing was... he made it in an average size outdoor garbage can, around 30+ gallons. He'd load the can with chopped cabbage, then dump in an entire restaurant sized (gallon) jug of mayonnaise along with vinegar, sugar, lemon, salt and pepper.  Hell, it may have been two gallon jugs he doesn't remember. Next, he would mix it up using a giant ladle and his hands, often well up past his elbows. There wasn't any mention of sanitary standards back in those days either. At least the garbage cans had never been used for real garbage, as far as he could tell. Anything that could be supersized back then was... all due to the high demands of the cafe patrons.

The two from Huron soon developed a side 'business of sorts. In the Breakers cafe, waitresses didn't share a portion of their tips with the other help. The younger one, the "Sinner" who was in his prime criminal days figured out a way to get a share of the tips. When the cafe tables were cleaned and reset, a paper place mat was put down before the utensils and dishes. Then, when patrons were finished with their food, all plates, utensils and place mats were removed by the bus boys. The boy from Huron was one of them.

Tips, always cash in those days, would often be left on the place mats in addition to, or rather than directly paid to waitresses. When that happened, he would often wad up the mat and place it on the tray with the tip hidden inside. Then, when he returned a loaded tray to his pal (accomplice) at the head of the clipper he would signal that there was a tip inside one or more wadded place mats. If it was just change, and he made sure it always was, his clipper partner would hold the wadded mat in one hand while hitting it with his rinsing hose. The mat would quickly rinse away leaving the change which would then find its way into his pocket.  If there happened to be a rare dollar bill or more included in the table tip, he would leave the bill back on the table for the waitress. It didn't turn out to be a lot of money and most often he would leave the waitress tips alone, but it did add a little job excitement for the two.

They would use the extra change to fund their frequent breakfast and later stops for food.  In the morning, at a small roadside restaurant known for its great hash browns and later at an A&W for their favorite; "Two chili dogs with an orange drink please."  

That is the story of the "Sinner" and his elder accomplice working the underbelly of Cedar Point's Hotel Breakers. Just a small glimpse at life in a small town for a couple of juveniles carving out their own adventures.  There would be plenty of time to 'go straight' later.