Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Pay Phones

I was asked to sit with my two grandsons while my youngest and her husband visited with a doctor. I started reading one of the children books left in the back pack in the hopes that I could be successful in amusing the boys. The second book was about a dog accused of kidnapping two cats. Well one page had a picture of a pay phone with the receiver hanging by the cord. "what's that?" Well it's a pay phone. I could tell by his young face that I would have to do better than that. Well, long ago before cell phones, pay phones were strategically located through out the country. "What's strategic?" Hmm this could be going better... wonder how soon mom will be done. Well strategic means places where lots of people will pass by and need to use a phone to call someone. I could see several people smiling and watching me explain this to a five year old who needs to know everything. You see, Vaughan, people did not have cell phones, so they would pick up the pay phone and press it to their ear, put coins in the slot and then they could dial a number and talk to someone. Now that almost every body have cell phones, the phone company removed them because they weren't being used. Vaughan said, " I remember seeing one". Well they are still located in airports, bus and train stations, but not on street corners anymore. He nodded his head. Whew, that's done. Mom and dad appeared a few minutes later. The boys had been patient for 50 minutes and they were starting to get antsy. I looked at Vaughan and said your bored. Yes, I am. A few minutes later, when mom appeared she asked if they were good, before I could answer, Vaughan said we're bored. I told her that they were good. Its not easy to sit in a waiting room for an hour without running off youthful energy.

I hope I'm asked to sit again.

Monday, May 28, 2007

Donald William Cors

Donnie was a Plane Captain working the night shift aboard the USS Saratoga. We were close friends. We worked the same shift as Plane Captains of the A4D Skyhawk attached to VA 36. We slept in the same berthing area, we played polka in the same games. We hit the beach together. This was our last cruise as both of us would be discharged before the next cruise. Donnie is in my thoughts often and especially today as we honor veterans.

Donnie was killed on the flight deck one miserable night. It was late in the cruise, there was a storm close by. The sea was such that the Sara was bouncing more than usual. The flights are on a schedule, you launch a group and then immediately recover the previous launch. The fuel loads in the planes require precision. That night it was so dark that you could not see the outline of your hand against the night sky. My plane was in normal maintenance on the hangar deck. I would go up on the flight deck during recovery and help with the servicing of the recovered planes, and then return to the hangar deck to be with my plane if it needed to be moved. The last launch was running late. The deck was heaving more than usual. The returning planes were circling the ship, many in trouble with low fuel. The decision was made to scrap the launch and pull the planes forward to prepare to recover the planes aloft. Donnie was with his plane on the aft catapults. The Air Boss apparently gave permission to a plane from VF 31 to land. The plane came in and landed on the planes on the aft cats. I was standing in the hangar looking out at the sea when I saw a massive ball of flame and heard the crash. The ship immediately went to general quarters. My GQ station was my plane. A number of burning planes were pushed over the side into the sea. I was standing near the elevator when they brought Donnie down on the stretcher. I did not realize that he had already died, he looked so peaceful. Apparently the wheel of the landing plane hit him and he died instantly. Donnie died serving his country. There was not a declared war, we were just part of the normal show of force in the Mediterranean as part of the "chess" game played during the "Cold War". His name is not on any wall. Donnie, I think of you often, and especially today.

A board of inquiry was held and although the Air Boss tried to blame the enlisted radioman, the audio tapes proved he had given permission to the plane to land. He was relieved of his duties and left the ship soon after. Two other flight deck workers were killed that night.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

My thoughts on energy

I am, by no means, not an expert on why energy is so costly. I do, however, have some thoughts on why.

First, usually at this time of year some refinery capacity is off line for maintenance. Right now there is four times the normal capacity off line, further reducing the available gasoline at a time when gas demand rises. High demand - limited supply equals higher prices. There have been no new refineries build in the US since the 1970's. Have there been proposals...yes. The ecology folks rise up to oppose, the local citizens don't want a refinery in their back yard. I suspect that it would be a costly fight to get approval. My opinion on this is partially shaped on the current pissing contest going on over the proposal to expand the natural gas terminal on the Taunton River between Fall River and Somerset, Massachusetts. One of these years, we will have a harsh winter and the same folks will want to know why they may not have sufficient supplies to keep warm. This past winter there was a delay in getting a propane tankers into the Providence port. Some rural folks were affected, and some ran out.

I certainly have no answers. I do know that I will pay the piper for the gas I need.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

INFLATE THOSE TIRES....

Every time the price of gas rises to a new high, the local news stations and the spokesman for AAA tell us to inflate our tires, change the air filter, tune up the car. Yeah right!

For once I would like the news anchor to tell drivers to be considerate. If you are first in line at a red light PAY ATTENTION! Don't sit there dialing your phone or fixing your hair in the mirror or whatever else you are doing when the light turns green. Every car behind you is idling away gas. Use your signals, if you are going to make a left turn...SIGNAL. Maybe I can make my turn and be on my way. The news anchors will never say these things because they may antagonize a listener and lose ratings.

Another item on my rant...they keep saying that people have not cut back on their driving. Why should we? I notice that NASCAR and the Indy 500 are going to run their races. The presidential candidates fly all over the country in chartered planes. No sporting event has been cancelled because of the high gas prices. Public transportation (save a few cities) is poor. I do feel badly for the working men and women who are on the lower end of the pay scale. The price of gas sucks up a significantly higher percentage of their income than the high end earners.

Many years ago when the first crunch occurred (1973) I was in my MBA program when the instructor asked how high we thought gas would be. I was the only one who guessed over 50 cents. I said I would see $2.00 in my lifetime. I also said I would never pay over $10,000. for a car. Oh well!

As for me, I will pay whatever it takes to get my Marie to her weekly treatments. I am planning a weeks trip to Michigan in August. I have budgeted $4.50 gallon.

Friday, May 18, 2007

Itchy Feet

I have always had an urge to travel ... be on the move. When I was in the seventh grade, an eight grader took off and hitch hiked to Miami from Rhode Island. When he was found and returned , he became an unlikely hero with his stories of the adventure. I was not as daring and also not willing to incur my fathers ire. As soon as school was finished I planned my "adventure". We as a family often went to visit my mother's sister near Hartford, Ct. I knew route 44 ran from my home town deep into Connecticut. It was not unusual for my brother and I to spend summer days out of the house until supper time. I decided I would hitch hike to Hartford and back. I happily accepted rides and stayed with them until they turned off the route. I easily made the outskirts of Hartford in less than three hours. Then I crossed over and hitched back to Greenville. I had interesting conversations with the people who picked me up, and had to assure more than one driver that I was not running away. I did make it home before supper and no one was ever the wiser. When I got my drivers license and my own car, it was not uncommon for me to drive a few hundred miles in a day.

These itchy feet and and a keen hatred of a slide rule and engineering classes resulted in my dropping out of college after one semester and joining the U. S. Navy. I still have the slide rule (somewhere) as it was the very best that my Dad could buy. Bamboo, I believe as I was told they were the best, in a black leather case. My mom gave it back to me after my Dad passed. I have been told that it is a collector item. I won't sell it but I don't want to look at it.

I easily passed the test and was guaranteed a service school. I ended in Jet Mechanic school, my second choice. My eyes were not up to snuff for Air Traffic Controller. I was lucky that way, Reagan probably would have fired me, and I ended up in a sea going squadron. My school was in Memphis, Tennessee and I was there for the annual Cotton Carnival. Great party! It was also my first exposure to segregation (summer 1960). I also kind of met Elvis Presley. Often he would hold court in his drive way in his convertible. As you can imagine there would be lots of girls. Several of us were there in our sailor suits, and he spoke to us and asked what we were doing, and one of the guys responded "hoping for overflow". He chuckled.

I was flown over seas to catch my squadron. After a few weeks stuck on a NATO base in Morrocco (another story) I was flown aboard The U S S Saratoga. A carrier landing ... I was on a natural high. I loved being out at sea. I became a plane captain and worked the night shift on the flight deck for the best part of 3 Mediterranean Cruises and several more Caribbean carrier qualifications. (New pilots getting their carrier certification) Before I was twenty, I had climbed the Leaning Tower of Pisa, visited great art museums in several countries, attended a bull fight in Barcelona. It was not all cultural, I loved the drinking and the women. By the time my enlistment was up, I had been part of the Cuban blockade, I had been part of a group that lived in the hills of Greece while some of our pilots worked with the Greek Air Force. I've seen the monkees of Gibralter. I have memories! I made the best and dearest friends of my life. I am still close to several of them. My wife refers to those years as the "best four years of my life". Yes ,I was young and free and invincible and blessed with outstanding buddies.

I have had great adventures since. I've always tried to travel with the family. My children have all been to Europe. Either with me or on their own.

My wife and I always did rode trips. Marie does not do boats ... no way ever! Marie was a big fan of Anne of Green Gables. She saw that a bridge had been completed to Prince Edward Island and mentioned it to me. That was the destination of my next vacation. It is a beautiful place. The lighthouses, the red soil, the Anne places. We did it all. We have been to some great places, the Rockies, the Badlands, Yellowstone and all the attractions in that area.

With Marie's current ongoing battle with cancer, I have used the Internet to satisfy my itchy feet. I have visited the web sites for a number of National Parks that we have yet to visit. Marie wants to see Brice Canyon and Needles National Parks. I want to do the Columbia River Gorge and associated Lewis and Clark sites on the west coast. Number one on the list when Marie is healthy, will be to Folkston, Georgia. The Folkston Funnel is a train watchers paradise.
www.folkston.com/trains/trains Marie loves trains. We were going to stop there on our way to Florida last December. This will be our next trip together.

Sunday, May 06, 2007

Father Mac

Just before my eighth birthday, my father decreed that I would become an altar boy and he signed me up for the summer training session. Thus I embarked on one of the greatest experiences of my young life. The parish priest was Father Joseph P. McNamara. He was a man's man. He was a bird colonel in the U S Army Chaplin Core during WW II. He insisted that he serve with the men on the front lines as he felt he could not comfort them well behind the line of combat. He has long ago gone to his Heavenly reward. I'm not sure why I have been thinking of him lately....but I have. Father Mac always wore highly shined black high top army boots. In the nine plus years that I was an altar boy, I never saw him wear low cut shoes. Most of the boys my age only stayed for a few years. There was another altar boy who began a year or so after me who also stayed well into high school. We were the altar boys for the Sunday 9:30 AM mass. I knew the Latin mass inside and out. It was more than memorization. I knew the priests words and the English counterpart as well as my responses. I was pleased when the Bishop requested me for one of his masses. I often was specifically requested to serve weddings and funerals.

I believe I stayed that long because of Father Mac. I remember in 1955, Father Mac said to me that he did not know what the world was coming too. When I asked what was the problem, he told me that Buick was no longer offering a standard transmission. Father Mac always drove a black Buick with a dark blue interior and a standard transmission.

Father Guertin was the Chaplin at the Catholic orphanage nearby. Occasionally he would say the weekday morning mass. One particular morning after a record 18 minute mass, I commented that he lost me early on. There was more French than Latin. About 3 minutes into the mass, I gave up trying to respond and was happy I was ready with the water and wine when he was. Because of my longevity, I was able to occasionally comment on their abbreviated masses.

One time Father Mac came to the house when he was doing a parish census. My parents were having a new rug installed. When Father Mac walked in, the installer immediately knelt and asked for a blessing. After Father Mac left, he explained that Father Mac was the Chaplin for his unit when he was in combat in Europe during the war and how much he was respected.

I also had my own cassock and blouse for mass. My mom wanted me in a freshly washed and starched altar outfit. As I grew, they always made sure to keep me in a properly fitted one.


I left the altar boys just about my 17th birthday. I know Father Mac was sorry to see me leave, but he understood that I felt it was time for me to move on. My father did not.

Years later when the horrible news surfaced about priests and altar boys, my father asked me if I was exposed to any of that. Absolutely not! My priests that I served were fantastic role models who treated us with great respect.

I will always remember Father Mac.