Soldier Boy II - Covering Some of the 'Bases'

Air Force Basic Training, Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio Texas

August, 1963 in San Antonio was like something I had never experienced
The good news was... the drill instructors kept you so busy
You didn't even have time to think

The bad news was... it was so hot
I couldn't hold down food the first three days
And I was pretty lean when I got there

At seventeen, I didn't shave either
And our drill instructor quickly cured me of that
(with face one inch from my ear while yelling)
"If it is fuzz of any kind at all, YOU WILL SHAVE IT!"

A couple of weeks into basic
Our DI gave us a Coke break
It was, and remains to this day
The best soda I have ever had in my life

Smoke breaks were pretty amazing too
And yeah, just about everyone smoked in those days

Then I had an opportunity to buy a set of
Air Force tan gabardines
(On payments of course...)
Shirt, slacks and tie - Shirt was pressed with a military crease
The tie was tucked neatly between the second and third button from the top
First time I was able to buy my own clothes with my own money
I was dazzled... it really looked sharp
Though I just ended up wearing it a couple of times

I also (small world) ran into an old pal
From our Huron, Ohio HS wrestling team, Kirk Mote
We were both so wrapped up in figuring out
What the hell we were doing
We just swapped pleasantries and moved on

While at Lackland I had the 'opportunity'
To pull KP at the Air Force's largest medical facility
Wilford Hall Medical Center
It was on night shift, peeling potatoes
And running patient food trays to and from the upper floor wards
The kitchen staff gave us cups of ice cream at the end of our shift
It was almost like we were real humans there for a moment

Along the way they gave some of us a language aptitude test
I did okay and they threatened to send me to language school
In Monterey California where they would teach me to be a "spy!"
I was pumped up but had to fill out a security clearance application first

I asked my Dad about the car I swiped at 15 (see "Sinner? - Definitely")
And he reckoned they would never find out about it
So... where it asked if I had ever been arrested I said, "No."

A few weeks later, we got our orders for technical schools
I was being sent to;

Greenville Air Force Base, Mississippi 

For basic Medic classes
I figured they had changed their minds about sending me to language school
But being a Medic sounded interesting

This one is a little different, but you get the idea.

We rode a bus there
Somewhere, maybe in Louisiana
We stopped and got out for a break
There was a gas station that had restrooms marked
"White, and Colored"
I had no idea what that was about but soon found out

Then at Greenville, we were being processed in
At one point someone handed me my military records
Then told me to walk them over
To some other processing point in the building

On the way I peeked
Among other things inside, there was a form...
All filled out and duly signed by an officer
"Waiver of fraudulent enlistment."
They had found out about my arrest
And decided not to kick me out
But scratched me from language school
They never said a word to me about it
I responded in kind

Not kickin' no "sleeping dog..."
Nope, not me;

A few weeks later, among other things
I had learned to use a plastic ID card
To cover a sucking chest wound
A not-so-uncommon battle injury

Then they sent me to advanced technical training at;

Gunter Air Force Base in Montgomery Alabama

I was to be a "Preventive Medicine Specialist"
That sounded pretty interesting to me

They made me a squad leader there
I guess because I was pretty good
At marching troops
"Hup, Twooop, Threeep, Fuorrrp!"
The words meant nothing
The cadence of the words meant everything

I made a couple of pals there
One was Dave Grabowski from Toledo, Ohio
Dave was short but played a real tall (alto?) saxophone
In fact, he preferred to stand on a foot locker to play
So he wouldn't have to worry about bouncing his sax on the floor
When he really got into the song
Man he could play... "Harlem Nocturne" to lift the roof off the building!

Many of our classes were really, really boring
Like, "Control of Communicable Diseases in Man"
And "Food Sanitation"
And "Industrial Hygiene and Toxicology"
Okay, well I guess all of them were boring
Except maybe the lessons on how to do VD interviews

One of our instructors was so damn cool though
He was an old, fairly round NCO
And he had us all figured

After lunch, classes would typically find half of us dozing off
About the time many of us started nodding
He would throw a piece of chalk against the. front blackboard
From the the back of the room, raising his voice at the same time
"And that is how you use a SLING PSYCHROMETER!!!!"
"BLAM!!!" went the chalk
That snapped us out of it for a few minutes
He was the best teacher I had among all
Air Force, college undergrad and grad professors
I think because he seemed to love it
More than any of the rest

Out of Gunter, I received my first assignment to;

1964 - Cannon Air Force Base near Clovis, New Mexico

Everyone who thought they knew anything
Said it was the "asshole of the world."

I had a great time there.
Wearing starched medic whites every day

On the job with my starched whites on.

(So long tan gabardines!)
Looking after public health
Control of food-borne illnesses,
Sanitation inspections, occupational health inspections...
Even VD interviews
I was kind of a one-striper big shot!
Performing inspections and hammering out reports on a manual typewriter

While there, the military kicked off one of it's
Trendy management programs called "Zero Defects"
Zero Defects began with Martin Marietta trying to strengthen it's Titan Missile program
But as it spread to include the Air Force, definitions or clarification fell a little short
By the time it got to this 18 year old
Typing up inspection reports had become a very serious challenge.

His reports required an original and five manifold carbon copies
(Remember, no copy machines in the early sixties right?!)
So I would assemble all that paper
Insert it in the typewriter and carefully hit the keys....
Until I made a mistake

Then I would rip it all out
(Noticeable corrections, erasures and white-outs were not an acceptable part of the zero defects program)
And begin all over again

I could damn near fill an entire waste basket preparing one report
It was definitely costly in time, supplies and labor
But thankfully it was short lived
So fairly neat corrections using an eraser or whiteout became once again acceptable

The base was outside of town
And the surrounding land was pretty flat
We had a huge mosquito season
The base leaders were concerned about the infestation

They decided a medic would map potential breeding areas
Including standing water locations
Around the base
They chose me to do the job
What a kick, circling the base,
Watching from the open door of a helicopter
Charting spots for the insect and rodent control guys to spray

One day, the guys from the neighboring Flight Surgeon's office
Stopped by our offices...
"An F-100 pilot was doing stunts near Nara Visa, New Mexico
He maneuvered his plane upside down, got disoriented
And flew into the ground a day ago
We need someone to drive an ambulance up there
And pick up the remains after the Civil Engineering guys
Get the wreckage out of the ground."

I volunteered...

It was a solemn moment
When much of the plane was pulled from the ground
It left a hole, five or six feet deep where some of the cockpit remained
When it was clear, the guys looked at me
And I climbed in with plastic collection bags
Just about every part of him was unrecognizable
And I started pulling what I could from the instrument panel wreckage

Some of the guys felt sorry for me I guess
Because a couple climbed into the pit and started helping
In all, we got about 40 pounds (weighed later at the Flight Surgeon's Office)
of a pilot who originally weighed around 180
The only things we identified as his were a couple of heat fused coins
And part of a combat boot.

I was also learning to water ski at Ute Dam and doing a lot of it
Thanks to pals Dave Biggs and Jim Nordby

(Both of whom I lost contact with for over thirty years.
Later, I was lucky to have reconnected with them via the Internet
Using the God of All Knowledge; Google.)

I bought my first car there, a '49 Merc (See "Baby Blue and Speed")
Custom painted light blue, with a flathead 8 and starter on the floor
Shaved and decked with a couple of spotlights... it was a fine ride
I also spent a lot of time shooting pool and learning ping pong in the barracks/dorm
I was drinking, going broke and learning how to budget my money - in that order

I was the first to sign up for the base billiards championship there
It was a challenge format
A few months later they called and told me to pick up my trophy
No one had challenged me - it wasn't because they knew anything about my game
It was because no one else was interested

I liked the trophy - it had a genuine eight ball in the base
Carried it around for years

I heard there was fighting in a country called Viet Nam
Didn't know where it was but knew I wanted to go
Service to my country?
Nah, those words weren't even in my vocabulary
All just part of the search for manhood and plain old curiosity I guess

Instead, the Air Force sent me thousands of miles
In a different direction;

1965 - Lajes Air Force Base, Lajes Field, the Azores, Portugal

I loved the Portuguese
Average income on the island was like
Thirty bucks a month
Yet they were all happy
And very honest

Our cleaning guys
(Even lowly Airmen could afford them)
Were so honest they would stack our change for us
If we left some lying around our dorm room

We had a shoe shine boy (man)
Who came around in the hospital where we worked
Shines were cheap - a dime
Yet he was saving to go to the United States

I'll bet he made it
As I had heard that many did

The islanders didn't wear shoes ordinarily
Just on Sundays for church

Portuguese bread, butter and cheese was delicious
We could make a full meal of it easily, anytime
Washed down with homemade red wine
Cheap at a quarter a jug
It usually came in a recycled Jim Beam bottle
Or something similar
When you were flush you bought Rose Mateus
Commercially bottled, from mainland Portugal

I learned to play golf there
I was fascinated by the look, smell and feel of the shoes, clubs,
balls and the bag
I was also dazzled by the fact that I could afford to buy my own

We had one golf course on the island...a beauty it was
I loved walking it early in the morning
When the fairways were bright silver with morning dew

We had Portuguese caddies "A and B"
"A" caddies were a buck for eighteen holes
They were generally teens or pre-teens
And knew more about the game then we did

When I first started I would just walk to my ball
And reach for whatever club my caddy handed me
Not knowing anything at all about what club worked for what distance
Often, we would play 36 holes straight on a Saturday
In the afternoons, we would send a caddie to the clubhouse for beer
And one of the caddies would carry two bags until the other got back

Then my four year enlistment was up and I got out
People who stayed in were called "lifers"
By the airmen my age
And I didn't like the sound of the term
Although I was having a fine time with it all

So, I returned to Seattle in the Spring

I stayed with the folks for a while
While job hunting and settling in
Had a couple of jobs, at Boeing and in a lumber yard,
Paid my folks rent to live at home in the meantime
And still felt tied to or dependent on a place (home)
I didn't want to be

That Fall I went back in the Air Force
That time they wanted me in Intelligence
And That time I didn't lie on my security application
I was accepted for training in two areas
Combat Intelligence (204X0) and Photo Interpretation (206X0)

Training was at;

1967 - Lowry Air Force Base, Denver Colorado

I was so pumped up when I left Seattle for the trip to Denver...
I had bought a new (used) 63 1/2 Ford Galaxy XL
And I loved driving
So I basically drove straight through to Denver
About 1400 miles in 23 hours

Pulled off the road once on that trip 

To get a little shut-eye
But was so fired up I just laid in the back seat and stared
So I kept on going and at times opened the wing vent to let
Air blow directly on my face, turned the radio up full blast
And sang at the top of my lungs - that got me through

Sundays in Denver, we started a tradition of sorts
A bunch of us would head for the lush, green grounds of
The Denver Museum of Nature and Science
There we played sandlot tackle football
Typically in teams of seven

There was a small lake or big pond there
With an island, fenced and protected as a bird sanctuary
We soon learned football and birds were not exactly made for each other
Many times we would be tackled, only to find after getting up
We had landed in green bird shit
We weren't too concerned and kept playing regularly
We did start calling the games the "DuckShit Bowl" though.

One day in class someone announced
The Air Force was in need of volunteers to be
"Air Intelligence Airman Parachutists"
We would need to pass a physical exam
As well as an endurance test

It sounded exciting 
So yeah, I volunteered

The endurance test wasn't much at all
Pushups, climbing ropes to the gym's ceiling
That sort of thing
The physical exam not so much either
But when the results came in I was rejected
Because I had 20/200 vision in both eyes
And was not cleared for jump school

I was surprised because I had been catching footballs with ease
And no glasses at the "DuckShit Bowl"
I also shot some mighty fine pool without my glasses on

Yup, no glasses.
(Lajes Field, Azores, 1966)

Just had to play the blurry edges so it was all the same

Later, I found out a lot of the parachutists
Were trained to jump in and teach counterinsurgency
For operations in South America
And there was a high fatality rate
I thought I might have literally dodged a bullet with that one.

After training, my first job was in Combat Intelligence at;

1968 - Ellsworth Air Force Base near Rapid City South Dakota

We gave gave current intelligence and enemy fighter aircraft recognition briefings to air crews there
And built Top Secret SIOP-ESI* bomb run flight charts for B-52s
(*Single Integrated Operations Plan - Extremely Sensitive Information...yea its on Google)
It was just your everyday plan for all out nuclear war - no problem.

We had a Major there
Who delighted in 'embellishing' the current intelligence news
We received from various agencies
And relaying the glorified versions to combat crews
At weekly intelligence briefings
"The Russians have a satellite with photo resolution so good
They can can read the name tag on your uniform when you step outside!"
This was in 1968 mind you....
But I'll bet it is very true today

One night, at the Hilltop Bar near Rapid City
I met Julieann Marie Thomas, just turned 19,
Celebrating her birthday with friends and looking gorgeous
She was a fast friend and would later agree to be my wife,
As she is today more than 50 years later

Turtle Summit IV

A roster imposter infiltrates the Summit...
(Just click on it for a clear view)

They gathered once again
On a beautiful spring day
At Molly's grotto

But this time there were five
Instead of four

The old turtle sensed something
In the soup was amiss

So naturally he said, "I sense something
In the soup is amiss."

The others clacked their beaks nervously
And awaited further guidance

The elder went on, "Yes, I believe one of us is chicken.
I can't see his liver but I would guess it also gilded lily."

One of the others chimed in, "You mean we have a lily livered chicken here
Who seems much like those robber barons (Carnegie and Rockefeller) from the Gilded Age?"

"Yes Grasshopper... I mean Little Turtle
Only it seems much worse.

It seems this lily livered chicken trying to pass as a turtle
Is in fact a member of CoNRAgress
And attempting to define right and wrong
By the weight of his pockets

If they are heavy with the 30 silver coins of Judas
The cause that put them there is right
If they are light with nothing but a moral compass
The cause is wrong.

You will find he has proven he can be intimidated by the 2%
At the expense of the 98%."

"But how do we tell who among us
Might be this dumb cluck?" said the littlest turtle.

"Look for a sign my son." said the elder.
"Or review his voting record... whatever."

Soldier Boy I - Prelude

He may look decent but he knows nothing.
(He's about to learn though...)

17 and a quarter - fresh out of high school
Not advanced academically
Just started early as a kid (hayseed) in North Dakota

Out of four high school years
Spent first two and a half
In Huron, Ohio

Enjoyed one class - "Technical Drawing" at Renton, Washington HS
Actually two - "Speech" at Huron, Ohio HS... but Mr Adler, "The Big Bopper" (RIP)
Kicked me out of that one forever

Kicked out of another as well in Huron...
Robbie C and I competed for lowest grade in "Latin"
I was disqualified from the competition when
Mrs. McKillip turned and caught me giving her
The single digit salute from the back of the classroom

As a result I was booted from class and sentenced to
"Honors Study Hall" for some reason
There I would sit and do...nothing
While my fellow students would sit and do...something
For an hour each day

Eventually it turned out the most valuable class
I would ever take was an elective
"Personal Typing"
I was at Huron HS, a sophomore  I think
Our teacher was young and to me, she was gorgeous
She had this deeply disturbing quality as well

When she was showing you how to use the keyboard
She would bend over your back
Placing her hands over yours and gently moving your fingers
To the correct position

All innocent enough
Except for the fact that her breasts
Would rest square on your back while she was doing it

As a fourteen year old student with hormones on permanent overdrive
This would reduce me to the mental level of a doberman humping a fireplug

In spite of that I learned to type 
A skill that would serve again and again
Throughout the remainder of my life

First two years in high school I was "college prep" material
Second two years it was, "Just get through will you?"

We moved from Huron to Seattle in the middle
Traumatic stuff for a fifteen year old

I majored in pool the second half of high school... the billiards kind that is
After hours of course...plus when I could skip classes without getting caught
Came out though with a 2.0 GPA - some kind of miracle that was.

Finally, a graduation ceremony and we were turned loose on society
In Seattle you had to be 18 to be "bonded"
I think that meant a third party insuring you against theft or injury or something
I found out I couldn't even pump gas
(my highest aspiration at the time)
Unless I was... "bonded"

So I wandered the streets of downtown Seattle
And played pool for a while
Famous historical joints (really) like Ben Paris and
The 211 Club (est. 1898)
(The 211 site is now the home of the Seattle Symphony - go figure...)

One day I walked past the recruiter's offices
Saw the different uniforms there
And thought the Air Force blues were pretty cool
I don't think the Marines had a display
Or I probably would have chose them!

Shortly thereafter, Mom signed for me
Three months out of high school, four months short of 18
And I was off to eight weeks of basic training

Twenty-four years, an amazing inspirational wife, a great son,
Bachelors and masters degrees, and many remarkable experiences later
Half as enlisted and half as officer
I would retire as a BTZ Major in the Air Force Medical Service Corps
Along the way I learned something in spite of myself

"...Love Me" Redux

Over 220 blog entries ago
In the spring of 2008
I posted my first blog
The title and the link:
"I Will Make You Love Me"

Now, thinking back...
A little more on the subject

When I was ten 

We moved from North Dakota to Pontiac, Michigan
My parents both smoked then

I thought it was a natural thing
For people to do

Our home in Pontiac was near the center of
What was then a mainly blue collar city

Wrapped around automobile manufacturing
With a fairly thriving downtown

Us kids included some cousins and a few other pals there
Our part of town was poor but safe and we roamed free
Free to get in a lot of mischief

We had a hole through a fence at the nearby dairy
We could sneak in at broad daylight and steal
Delicious pint cartons of chocolate milk

We could ride our bikes right downtown
We were probably only a mile away
Not even that
I clearly recall in a department store there...
The smell and look of a brand new white cotton dress shirt
I think it cost around three bucks
And wondering if there would ever be a day
When I would have one of my own

There was a baseball diamond with bleachers
In a park nearby
We would cruise those bleachers after a game
And pick up decent sized cigarette butts
To enjoy later at our leisure
It was even a treat to latch on to a box of wooden matches
To light them with
Over 30 years later, I finally quit

Then my first great discovery of my early 40's
Was the feeling of breathing in a huge gulp of clean air
It was a rush I had totally forgotten over the years
Later, smoke free clothes, homes and cars would become
More evident as well
But that huge gulp of clean air is still amazing to me

I still get a little sad remembering "lap time"
When I would invite my son to sit in my lap
While watching television
Only to excuse him a few minutes later
So I could light one up

I was lucky to have dumped that monkey
Over 20 years ago
As part of rehab for my very unhealthy heart

This morning, as with many mornings,

I was heading for my poker tournament (read "fix")
And I noticed how clear and beautiful the day looked
I most certainly would not have noticed if I had not quit
In fact, I would not be here at all

Killing Their Children

People start killing, people can stop it.

They came from many countries
Across the great water
They needed places for family, food and shelter
We shared, sometimes willingly, sometimes not
For this was our home through many generations

They fought us to attempt genocide
They fought amongst themselves
They formed a government
They wanted rules
To help keep them from arguing, fighting, killing

To help limit their greed, their racism

Their government sometimes
Did good things to bring order
Their government sometimes
Did bad things to bring chaos

Chaos is what they bring today
They are killing their children
In the fields of far off wars
In their schools
In the streets

In despair
I would leave for my original country
But this is my original country

CoNRAgress

Who are these people?
These 100 Americans
We have elected
Charged with providing structure
For our increasingly large, complex society

What are they about?
Themselves... not our children, not us

What have they accomplished?
Exacerbation of all major issues they have faced in recent years
A snarled voting process that confounds observers
Coining a new phrase, "scorched-earth obstructionism"
That characterizes the "Party of No" so well

What are they about?
Nothing... they are about nothing but self aggrandizement

What will be their place in history?
A reputation for pandering to large corporations and the 1%
The face of Democracy, tagged with obscenities
A highly effective death machine for unnecessary wars and killing our children
Masters of the politics of win... not the politics of right and wrong

What are they about?
Mindless prioritization and making the news

Are their Mothers proud of them?
Are the Fathers of our country proud of them?
What about the children of Sandy Hook Elementary School?  Are they proud?

Congressman... Senator...
Lose the damn jacket
Loosen the damn tie
Roll up your freakin' shirt sleeves

Get busy damnit
Act responsibly
Grow up
Give our children the good country they deserve
They need a chance to live

Or maybe we just need to kick your asses out of office...

Zen Moment

A good, overdue by a few days, workout at the gym this morning
After... on a overcast day I sat outside near the pool

Why this photo?
No particular reason other than I love it.

Weather was perfectly comfortable
Stevie Ray Vaughn playing the blues on Pandora
Ear pods cranked up to accommodate my pitiful ears

Fell into a Zen moment while there
Good for a guy who may have been born with rose colored glasses
Song after great song played

"Voodoo Child' by Hendrix
"Turn The Page" by Seeger
"We Will Rock You" by Queen
Its my "ZZ Top" channel
You get the idea

I watched a guy who had to be 90
Sit at pool's edge
Put on giant flippers, a snorkel
And paddle up and down the Olympic length

I thought, "How in the hell did I get here?"

In Ohio, at 15... bald tires in the rain
Rolled a pal's old car off the road into the ditch, thrown out
Barb wire scars from fence there still on my right arm

In Thailand, '69... drove a motorcyle
Pal Randall Craft hanging on the back for dear life
Right through the door less entrance of a Thai bar

Outside Denver...'68
A hard rain... guy in front started swerving all over the road
Hit the gas and slipped around him

In Idaho, '75... a flying  "W"*
Over the dirt bike handle bars
Landing on my back

In Idaho, '75... again
Squadron Commander... I was doing barracks shake down inspection at 5am
Airman opened door for me with shotgun in hand
First Sergeant stepped in between us and diffused it

In Sacramento, '92
"You have 85% blockage of the widowmaker"
(Left coronary artery)

That one made me a 4x CABG vet

In Sacramento again, '97
Another flying  "W"
Over the bicycle handle bars in Eppies Great Race (triathlon)

You get the idea... and there's more, a lot more but I won't tell

So here I am
Close, but no cigar.... butt
At least not yet

Maybe it is to one day see my grandkids
To be with Julieann
To watch my son and daughter discover the world

I don't know why I am still here but I deeply appreciate it
I give thanks to the Great Biker In the Sky

Now I know you all have your own stories like this
Its just my take and I get to write about it
Another thing I am grateful for.

Watch for the book, "Travel On"
Coming to you in 2013
Lord willing and the creek don't rise...

* A "flying W" is the picture a body sort of forms when doing a somersault over the handle bars of a bicycle or  motorcycle or something similar.  Picture the hands still on the grips with the feet up in the air directly overhead while tucked into a rolling position- at that moment there is a vague resemblance to a W.

Personal Assault Drone

"Hey!  What's that thing

that appears to be hovering over your shoulder?"

"It's my assault drone."

"Wow.  Impressive.  How does it work?"

"Well, I control it with the app I have loaded in my iWatch here."

"Interesting.  And what is that thing sticking out the top that looks like a sailfish fin?"

"That's the high-capacity magazine.  Holds 50 rounds of jacketed .357 mags."

"Wow... is it automatic or..."

"Yeah, it will fire all 50 rounds in less than 20 seconds."

"How do you reload it?"

"Pretty simple.  You just hit 'Home" on your iWatch and it immediately attaches itself to this PAD belt I am wearing.  Then I can drop a new mag in it in a couple of seconds."

"PAD?"

"Yea, 'Personal Assault Drone'."

"Why would you want something like that though?"

"Well, let's say I was attacked by a dozen dozen 550 pound Russian boars, or maybe the same number of federal agents.  Maybe even a couple of hundred elementary school kids.  You never know...."

"Round House"

My brother, David Claud William and I are enrolled members of  the
Turtle Mountain Band of the Chippewa Tribe

This means we are at least 1/4 Native American
As defined by the Blood Quantum Laws of the United States

Neither of really have a clue of the significance of that
Not having found out until we were in our 20's
The "Why?" of that is here: 

Chippewa Princess

Yes,  it is likely true that all 30,00 enrolled members

Of the Turtle Mountain Band

Would like to think that their Mothers were princesses

And that is ok - it is a title that fits most mothers 

Without regard to nationality right?!

The point here is

Neither David nor I 

Know of details about day to day life

On a reservation

Or anywhere around a band of Chippewa

So, it is probably natural that curiosity 

Would drive us to books and articles on the subject

We have found there is not much out there

Some (actually very little) history

But nothing that really tells us 

What life was like on a homestead in Montana

During the Depression

Or what life was like on the reservation before that

That is part of what makes a book like 

"Round House" by Louise Erdrich so special

Her book has the gritty ring of authenticity 

That tells me she has been there and knows

And that she has talked to others who know

For more, this link includes a New York Times review that refers

To the book as "Flawed but powerful."

I didn't notice the "flawed" part 

But sure did notice the powerful part

Louise also wraps a story of rape and murder 

Around this that makes me certain it will make a terrific film

And I hope that comes across as a compliment

Thank you Louise... for a great story

And some compelling insight into 

Life on the "res."

Note:  "Round House" is the thirteenth of Louise's novels.  It won the 2012 National Book Award for fiction.

Mass Murder in Oz

"From 1984 to 1996, Australia had over a dozen mass murders by firearms, largely copycat killings prompted by media coverage in the U.S. and in Australia. Unstable people do insane things. After one lone nut gunman killed 35 and wounded 21 people in 1996, the Port Arthur Massacre, Prime Minister John Howard banned all semi-automatic rifles and pump-action shotguns because of the outrage felt by Australian citizens. He introduced highly restrictive gun licensing laws. Hundreds of thousands of guns were purchased from Australian citizens and destroyed.

Do you know how many mass shootings we have had since then? Not one. In addition, firearm homicides have dropped 59% with no corresponding increase in non-firearm murders."

People kill people, not guns? Rubbish. Guns give the mentally ill ruthlessly efficient killing power, and escalate domestic violence from assault to homicide. The U.S. needs to act now, and the gun lobby needs to wake up to its culpability."  
The preceding is an anonymous quote.  

For an explanation read Douglas Cooper's article.

Bushmaster - as used in Newport

And don't forget!...

1. Charlotte
2. Dan 
3. Olivia 
4. Josephine 
5. Ana 
6. Dylan 
7. Madeleine 
8. Catherine 
9. Chase 
10. Jesse 
11. James 
12. Grace 
13. Emilie 
14. Jack 
15. Noah 
16. Caroline 
17. Jessica 
18. Ben 
19. Avielle 
20. Allison

Bird 'Expressions'

Capital Casino Chips
(Yes, more than 30k - from a much better day.)

It all began innocently enough...
I was deeply involved in my usual Sunday poker tournament
At Sacramento's Capital Casino
Julieann had armed me with her typical counsel
Just before leaving home; "Be patient and good luck."

So I spend the first couple of hours practicing patience
As luck was hard to come by
Finally after the second break... in the third hour
I started catching hands

I was soon up to around 30,000 in chips
And was enjoying the momentum
Cards dealt again...maybe 90 hands into the tournament
And I was looking down at pocket Kings

I raised to ten thousand in early position
And a guy to my right, who had more chips than me
Said, "all in."
I called and he flipped pocket Aces
The rest of the cards were dealt and I didn't hit

That's the game... it happens to everyone
I wished everyone "good luck", bowed my head
And retreated to the parking lot
Where I had carefully parked the RedSled
To avoid dings from others

(The "RedSled is a 2002 Corvette with 30,000 miles on it...
Another gift from my tolerant, forgiving Babe of 42+ years)

Blackbirds were fluttering in and out of a tree

RedSled's hood in better days too
With water drops and reflections
No bird expressions

That shaded most of the Sled
And as I approached
I notice that there were a few dozen splats
Of bird crap all over the car

I resigned myself to the fact that
My streak of bad luck had not yet played out
What I mean is I put on my Forrest Gump composure
And accepted the fact that (bird) "S___ happens."

So I  headed to the nearest spray car wash...
It didn't all come off so then I headed home
To work on it some more

I carefully removed the remaining resi-doodoo
And then noticed some patterns remaining on the paint
So I brought out my heavy artillery

"Bug and tar remover" - nope
"Goo-gone" - nope
"Rubbing compound" - sort of...
So I applied 80 strokes per spot (yes I counted for consistency)
Then a final layer of wax

Still - some etching remained - a couple of dozen instances
If you looked at it from the right angle
"Uh-oh"
(perhaps I used stronger words...)
So I Googled it
Asking the almighty god of knowledge
"What to do?"
It said, "clay bar"
I tried it - nope


Note: Along the (Google) way.
I also discovered that Red is the favorite color for 
Birds to 'express' themselves on - go figure.


I am now out of home remedies
So next stop - body shop
To see what I can see about professional buffing
Besides, I dropped a ladder on it not long ago
And put some dings in the hood,
Need a pro to fix that too
But that's another story

Through it all I am still practicing Julie's advice,
At least the "be patient" part.