.......And generally not for the better.
I didn't pilot the flight, but some years back one of our machines was dispatched to the scene of a terrible helicopter crash.
The County Police, Drug Enforcement Agency, and S.W.A.T. teams were coordinating a surveillance/takedown of a drug operation. The DEA was using a helicopter with an Infrared scope to monitor the perpetrators house. The pilot and observer in that aircraft got so focused on watching the I/R screen, they forgot that flying the helicopter needed to be the first order of business. The pilot lost control of the bird and it filtered itself through a high tension electric line on it's way to the ground, killing the observer and critically injuring the pilot, who survived, but had a life-changing head injury.
My opinion is that we have lost "The War on Drugs".
The easiest way to cut our losses is to declare VICTORY!, legalize them, and allow the tobacco and drug companies to produce a quality, inexpensive product for those that now break our un-enforceable laws.
Benefits would be at least two-fold:
Tax receipts could go into education to keep others from going down that path,
and by taking the HUGE profits out of the drug business, you do away with much of what makes it such a big problem for us.........including killing damn fine law enforcement personnel trying to enforce these impossible-to-enforce laws.
(Pablo Escobar ended up being a huge influence on Colombian politics because of his economic power there.)
Another thing came to mind this week as a result of this Barry Bonds steroid fiasco:
It's just another illegal drug situation, driven by the huge dollars involved.
We pay these athletes sinful wages to do what they do.
Athletes like Bonds, McGwire, etc. that bring attention and fans to the sport are paid on the highest end of this "sinful" scale.
These guys risk their future health for the money and fame they can garner because of the big money involved, then, like footballer Lyle Alzado, tearfully admit their mistake on some TV interview show as they are dying of liver cancer, or some other dreadful disease.
I'm so tired of it I could scream.
Back to normal values, folks......
Let's make a list of what is really important to our lives.
And at the top of that values list, remember that not only is it true that "money changes everything",
the change it makes is frequently not something we can be proud of.
10 March 2006
07 March 2006
Post Oscar Wrap-up
First things first:
Salma Hayak!
Wow.
Now, the program itself:
Is it just me, or did it seen more subdued this year?
I thought Jon Stewart seemed a little nervous, but he was funny, and his political humor was in good taste.
I'm always uncomfortable when one recipient uses up all the talk time and they cut off the second person's chance to say their thanks by "playing them off"........but I do appreciate the fact that the program doesn't go on and on and on.
The only reasonably current movie I have seen is "Walk The Line".
I'm a Johnny Cash fan, so I enjoyed the insights into his life, although I was disappointed to find he was into drugs that heavily.
Both Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon did a great job singing their parts. Portraying professional singers had to be a scary task.
George Clooney's comments about being proud that Hollywood is "out of touch" indicates to me that there is inside talk in the industry about a possible problem there. I hope it means there is a chance of a return to more "heart of America" values on films in the near future.
Films portraying servicemen/women as the heroes they are would be a refreshing change, wouldn't it?
Salma Hayak!
Wow.
Now, the program itself:
Is it just me, or did it seen more subdued this year?
I thought Jon Stewart seemed a little nervous, but he was funny, and his political humor was in good taste.
I'm always uncomfortable when one recipient uses up all the talk time and they cut off the second person's chance to say their thanks by "playing them off"........but I do appreciate the fact that the program doesn't go on and on and on.
The only reasonably current movie I have seen is "Walk The Line".
I'm a Johnny Cash fan, so I enjoyed the insights into his life, although I was disappointed to find he was into drugs that heavily.
Both Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon did a great job singing their parts. Portraying professional singers had to be a scary task.
George Clooney's comments about being proud that Hollywood is "out of touch" indicates to me that there is inside talk in the industry about a possible problem there. I hope it means there is a chance of a return to more "heart of America" values on films in the near future.
Films portraying servicemen/women as the heroes they are would be a refreshing change, wouldn't it?
03 March 2006
Travellin' Man
(One of my favorite Bob Seger songs, by the way.)
We are headed to a VERY LARGE midwestern city to visit with Sara Jean's niece that is 3 months younger than she. I hate the long drive. I hate driving in all that traffic once we are there.
Let's just say, I hate the whole idea of going, but I'll enjoy the fellowship once we are there.
All this will culminate with the two gals oohing and ahhing over the Oscar presentations.
I've never quite been able to understand what the interest in
"The Oscars" is: A bunch of dysfunctional people vote on one another's job performance, and WE are supposed to be interested...............why?
Yes, I'll watch.
But do me a favor:
Pray for Scarlet Johanson to outdo herself with her choice of gown for the evening!
That would make the night worthwhile.
We are headed to a VERY LARGE midwestern city to visit with Sara Jean's niece that is 3 months younger than she. I hate the long drive. I hate driving in all that traffic once we are there.
Let's just say, I hate the whole idea of going, but I'll enjoy the fellowship once we are there.
All this will culminate with the two gals oohing and ahhing over the Oscar presentations.
I've never quite been able to understand what the interest in
"The Oscars" is: A bunch of dysfunctional people vote on one another's job performance, and WE are supposed to be interested...............why?
Yes, I'll watch.
But do me a favor:
Pray for Scarlet Johanson to outdo herself with her choice of gown for the evening!
That would make the night worthwhile.
01 March 2006
Sara Jean, Addict
Help me, please!
My wife is an addict. I need to know if there is a 12-step program, or some other help for her.
She has found QVC.
It started off innocently enough.......she'd watch while I wasn't home.
Mostly jewelry attracted her attention, but stuff to beautify/improve the house would get her attention too.
She established an account with them, then bragged about how easy it was to buy stuff now that they had all her information......("Yes, that's the credit card number. Yes, that's the address!")
Soon, she was watching nearly all the time she was at home. I knew we were in trouble when she started referring to the hawksters by their first names, as if they were close friends.
Then I noticed the UPS guy was stopping at our house daily.
Now and then it'd be the FedEx guy, just for a change of pace.
New 600 count sheets on the bed.
Foofy soap in the bathroom.
And of course, the jewelry.......
Wow.......the jewelry!
I didn't have to scold her. After about a month, she figured it out herself....(maybe when she looked at her credit card bill.)
She's weaning herself, and I can see signs of withdrawal.
It's painful for her, this cutting back.
I'm proud of her for realizing on her own that she needed to get this problem under control.
I have two questions:
Is there a scientific name for QVC addiction?
Do UPS guys also go through withdrawal symptoms?
My wife is an addict. I need to know if there is a 12-step program, or some other help for her.
She has found QVC.
It started off innocently enough.......she'd watch while I wasn't home.
Mostly jewelry attracted her attention, but stuff to beautify/improve the house would get her attention too.
She established an account with them, then bragged about how easy it was to buy stuff now that they had all her information......("Yes, that's the credit card number. Yes, that's the address!")
Soon, she was watching nearly all the time she was at home. I knew we were in trouble when she started referring to the hawksters by their first names, as if they were close friends.
Then I noticed the UPS guy was stopping at our house daily.
Now and then it'd be the FedEx guy, just for a change of pace.
New 600 count sheets on the bed.
Foofy soap in the bathroom.
And of course, the jewelry.......
Wow.......the jewelry!
I didn't have to scold her. After about a month, she figured it out herself....(maybe when she looked at her credit card bill.)
She's weaning herself, and I can see signs of withdrawal.
It's painful for her, this cutting back.
I'm proud of her for realizing on her own that she needed to get this problem under control.
I have two questions:
Is there a scientific name for QVC addiction?
Do UPS guys also go through withdrawal symptoms?
27 February 2006
Lovely Rita, Meter Maid
The Army had decided it no longer needed my services. I had just gotten married and I had NO idea what I was going to do to make a living.
I had never collected a cent of unemployment insurance, so my new "Georgia Peach" wife and I went to file my claim for unemployment insurance.
The experience was pretty devastating.
I was overqualified for most available jobs. Also, the numbers of unemployed men at this time was pretty high, so competition for what jobs there were was great.
On top of it all, I found that the Army had paid me for two months unused leave, and I wouldn't be eligible for unemployment compensation until those two months had passed.
Our mood was lower than the belly of a snake as we walked back to my wife's Volkswagon Beetle, to find our Parking Meter registering EXPIRED, and a corpulent Meter Maid resting her foot on our bumper writing out a parking ticket. Without looking up from her ticket pad she said, "You're too late."
It was more than I could handle in one day. Something in my head snapped.
I looked at her, then at the out of state license plates on my wife's car, and made a quick decision!
I unlocked the passenger door like a gentleman and let me wife get in the car. Then to "Rita" I said:
"I'll make you a deal.......If you can complete that ticket before I drive off, I'll take it."
She was so stunned she quit writing as I opened my door, seated myself, started the engine, and drove away.
We drove half a block before realizing it was a dead-end street.
I had to turn around and drive back past Rita holding her ticket book.........wife #1 and I laughing almost uncontrollably, giving her a huge, friendly wave as we passed!
After all the irritation and negative news, being a rebel that day sure was good medicine!
I had never collected a cent of unemployment insurance, so my new "Georgia Peach" wife and I went to file my claim for unemployment insurance.
The experience was pretty devastating.
I was overqualified for most available jobs. Also, the numbers of unemployed men at this time was pretty high, so competition for what jobs there were was great.
On top of it all, I found that the Army had paid me for two months unused leave, and I wouldn't be eligible for unemployment compensation until those two months had passed.
Our mood was lower than the belly of a snake as we walked back to my wife's Volkswagon Beetle, to find our Parking Meter registering EXPIRED, and a corpulent Meter Maid resting her foot on our bumper writing out a parking ticket. Without looking up from her ticket pad she said, "You're too late."
It was more than I could handle in one day. Something in my head snapped.
I looked at her, then at the out of state license plates on my wife's car, and made a quick decision!
I unlocked the passenger door like a gentleman and let me wife get in the car. Then to "Rita" I said:
"I'll make you a deal.......If you can complete that ticket before I drive off, I'll take it."
She was so stunned she quit writing as I opened my door, seated myself, started the engine, and drove away.
We drove half a block before realizing it was a dead-end street.
I had to turn around and drive back past Rita holding her ticket book.........wife #1 and I laughing almost uncontrollably, giving her a huge, friendly wave as we passed!
After all the irritation and negative news, being a rebel that day sure was good medicine!
21 February 2006
A Tale of Two Scenes
Do you like making a "Grand Entrance"?
I have to admit, I sorta do.
And they don't get much "grander" than landing a helicopter on an Interstate Highway that has been shut down waiting for your arrival!
Last night we were dispatched to the scene of a single vehicle accident. On a clear night, on level terrain and barring obstructions, you can see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles from more than 20 miles out. We called 5 minutes from landing and the State Patrol shut down the highway in preparation for our landing. By the time we arrived, traffic was backed up for about a mile.
A young lady had departed the roadway at a high rate of speed and struck a tree with her driver's side door. The crew walked our stretcher to the ground ambulance where the first responders were working on her.
In ten minutes, my Paramedic returned to the helicopter with an empty stretcher......
that's not good!
To me he shouted, "She's arrested. We're taking her to the hospital by ground."
There was a local hospital within 8 minute's drive of the accident scene. CPR can be done more efficiently in the back of a ground ambulance than in the back of the helicopter.
Good decision.
I flew solo to the local hospital and shut down.
Five minutes later my crew arrived with the first responders.
After 15 minutes of CPR and heart stimulating drugs, the patient showed no improvement.
They pronounced her dead just before 1 A.M..
Tonight, just after my preflight, the phone rang again.
Another scene flight, this time 12 minutes away, on a two-lane country road. A 24 year old male left the roadway and crashed into a creek, partially submerging his car. ( It's 35 degrees F. outside......that water is near freezing! )
I earned my pay on the landing.......
the terrain rose steeply on both sides of the highway, and then was covered with 60' trees.
The only "safe" way to land was to come to a very high hover situated exactly over the highway centerline and hover down to land, sweeping the searchlight to it's extremes watching for wires.
With my crew on the way to the ambulance, the scene commander came over and shook my hand.........
"Beautiful job!" he shouted over the din of the machine.
Nice to hear. (Another Grand Entrance! )
The crew approached with the stretcher 12 minutes later, this time WITH the patient.
I helped load him, did a quick walk around to make sure all doors were secure, and did a vertical takeoff to 100 feet before transitioning to forward flight.
The patient was in the water to just above his waist, unconcious, and of course was hypothermic. He had an open head injury exposing his brain. He also had a priapism......(an erection).....an indication of high spine trauma. In the 14 minute flight to the hospital his heartrate slowed to 40 beats per minute and my crew gave him adrenaline to stimulate his heart.
I landed and went to the rear of the aircraft to help unload the patient and found the crew busy administering more drugs and pumping on an "ambu" bag to give him oxygen. I released the lock on the stretcher in preparation to unload it. The crew had cut off the patient's black, wet, cold sweat clothes and they were in the way of the stretcher's wheels. I moved them out of the way, and found that was a mistake.......my hands immediately felt sticky........the clothing was covered with his blood.
His prognosis is not good either. His injuries will probably overcome him before the sun shines once again.
I've had a bad string of scene flights lately. This is the fourth in a row where the patient either died before I could transport, or will likely die in a short time.
Sure, it comes with the territory.
But I'd much rather have the feeling I helped to make a good/better outcome more likely!
I have to admit, I sorta do.
And they don't get much "grander" than landing a helicopter on an Interstate Highway that has been shut down waiting for your arrival!
Last night we were dispatched to the scene of a single vehicle accident. On a clear night, on level terrain and barring obstructions, you can see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles from more than 20 miles out. We called 5 minutes from landing and the State Patrol shut down the highway in preparation for our landing. By the time we arrived, traffic was backed up for about a mile.
A young lady had departed the roadway at a high rate of speed and struck a tree with her driver's side door. The crew walked our stretcher to the ground ambulance where the first responders were working on her.
In ten minutes, my Paramedic returned to the helicopter with an empty stretcher......
that's not good!
To me he shouted, "She's arrested. We're taking her to the hospital by ground."
There was a local hospital within 8 minute's drive of the accident scene. CPR can be done more efficiently in the back of a ground ambulance than in the back of the helicopter.
Good decision.
I flew solo to the local hospital and shut down.
Five minutes later my crew arrived with the first responders.
After 15 minutes of CPR and heart stimulating drugs, the patient showed no improvement.
They pronounced her dead just before 1 A.M..
Tonight, just after my preflight, the phone rang again.
Another scene flight, this time 12 minutes away, on a two-lane country road. A 24 year old male left the roadway and crashed into a creek, partially submerging his car. ( It's 35 degrees F. outside......that water is near freezing! )
I earned my pay on the landing.......
the terrain rose steeply on both sides of the highway, and then was covered with 60' trees.
The only "safe" way to land was to come to a very high hover situated exactly over the highway centerline and hover down to land, sweeping the searchlight to it's extremes watching for wires.
With my crew on the way to the ambulance, the scene commander came over and shook my hand.........
"Beautiful job!" he shouted over the din of the machine.
Nice to hear. (Another Grand Entrance! )
The crew approached with the stretcher 12 minutes later, this time WITH the patient.
I helped load him, did a quick walk around to make sure all doors were secure, and did a vertical takeoff to 100 feet before transitioning to forward flight.
The patient was in the water to just above his waist, unconcious, and of course was hypothermic. He had an open head injury exposing his brain. He also had a priapism......(an erection).....an indication of high spine trauma. In the 14 minute flight to the hospital his heartrate slowed to 40 beats per minute and my crew gave him adrenaline to stimulate his heart.
I landed and went to the rear of the aircraft to help unload the patient and found the crew busy administering more drugs and pumping on an "ambu" bag to give him oxygen. I released the lock on the stretcher in preparation to unload it. The crew had cut off the patient's black, wet, cold sweat clothes and they were in the way of the stretcher's wheels. I moved them out of the way, and found that was a mistake.......my hands immediately felt sticky........the clothing was covered with his blood.
His prognosis is not good either. His injuries will probably overcome him before the sun shines once again.
I've had a bad string of scene flights lately. This is the fourth in a row where the patient either died before I could transport, or will likely die in a short time.
Sure, it comes with the territory.
But I'd much rather have the feeling I helped to make a good/better outcome more likely!
20 February 2006
Live Like You Were Dying
Surely you've heard the song, even if you're not a country music fan.
Sung by Tim McGraw, it's a great one, and should be played at the start of the day for all of us.
I get misty-eyed every time I hear it.
We should all pay close attention to the words.
Regular "Pitchpullers" have heard it before, and I'll say it again and again:
My job reminds me continually that none of us are promised a sunrise in the morning.......
She was the first person Sara Jean met when Sara Jean's parents retired and moved to this town.
When I met Sara Jean several years later, she was still one of her best friends.
She looked like Loretta Young's twin, complete with those huge eyes.
A beauty that needed no makeup.
Shy.....so shy she was uncomfortable with my gregariousness in public.
I embarrassed her more times that I could count.
She tolerated me because of her friendship with Sara Jean.
We heard the news when it was already too late:
Breast cancer.....Bad.
She felt the lump and thought it was nothing. When her nipple inverted and there was a discharge, she finally sought help.
By then the disease had spread to her lymph system and her brain.
But then she fought like a trooper.
With the increasing success in cancer research, I told Sara Jean to encourage her to fight......fight, and maybe a miracle would happen before the disease got the best of her.
She continued to work until she needed so much pain medicine she could no longer think straight and do her job.
Still, she kept her chin up, not wanting to depress those around her.
At that point Sara Jean visited her almost daily, and saw her the day before she died. Although it was obvious she was failing fast, she still tried to keep my wife from being sad.
She was 44.
At the funeral, she was sleeping beauty....
just a thinner Loretta Young,
still one of the prettiest women in the room.
There are all sorts of ways to say it:
"Don't worry, be happy",
"Don't sweat the small stuff.....and it's ALL small stuff"
We do need the reminders.
How odd that for most of us, the problem is not "where is my next meal coming from",
but "how can I develop the discipline to keep from putting that in my mouth?"
And yet, we fret.
Sometimes we make those around us miserable.
Why?
Partly, because we forget how short life can be.
I hope you'll take stock of your life and enjoy the wonderful things we all have, to include easy access to good medical care.
I also hope we all begin to do the things we dream about,
then dream more dreams and act on those too.
Wouldn't it be nice to know that at our funeral our family and friends could laugh out loud, telling stories of our adventures?
So do it!
Live like you were dying.
Sung by Tim McGraw, it's a great one, and should be played at the start of the day for all of us.
I get misty-eyed every time I hear it.
We should all pay close attention to the words.
Regular "Pitchpullers" have heard it before, and I'll say it again and again:
My job reminds me continually that none of us are promised a sunrise in the morning.......
She was the first person Sara Jean met when Sara Jean's parents retired and moved to this town.
When I met Sara Jean several years later, she was still one of her best friends.
She looked like Loretta Young's twin, complete with those huge eyes.
A beauty that needed no makeup.
Shy.....so shy she was uncomfortable with my gregariousness in public.
I embarrassed her more times that I could count.
She tolerated me because of her friendship with Sara Jean.
We heard the news when it was already too late:
Breast cancer.....Bad.
She felt the lump and thought it was nothing. When her nipple inverted and there was a discharge, she finally sought help.
By then the disease had spread to her lymph system and her brain.
But then she fought like a trooper.
With the increasing success in cancer research, I told Sara Jean to encourage her to fight......fight, and maybe a miracle would happen before the disease got the best of her.
She continued to work until she needed so much pain medicine she could no longer think straight and do her job.
Still, she kept her chin up, not wanting to depress those around her.
At that point Sara Jean visited her almost daily, and saw her the day before she died. Although it was obvious she was failing fast, she still tried to keep my wife from being sad.
She was 44.
At the funeral, she was sleeping beauty....
just a thinner Loretta Young,
still one of the prettiest women in the room.
There are all sorts of ways to say it:
"Don't worry, be happy",
"Don't sweat the small stuff.....and it's ALL small stuff"
We do need the reminders.
How odd that for most of us, the problem is not "where is my next meal coming from",
but "how can I develop the discipline to keep from putting that in my mouth?"
And yet, we fret.
Sometimes we make those around us miserable.
Why?
Partly, because we forget how short life can be.
I hope you'll take stock of your life and enjoy the wonderful things we all have, to include easy access to good medical care.
I also hope we all begin to do the things we dream about,
then dream more dreams and act on those too.
Wouldn't it be nice to know that at our funeral our family and friends could laugh out loud, telling stories of our adventures?
So do it!
Live like you were dying.
16 February 2006
Christianity.... Unnecessarily Boring?
Another post on religion?
Yeah, and if you read it, you may be surprised.
Sara Jean and I are proud to say we are Christians.
I think Christianity has been a tremendous force for good in the world.
I know, individual Christians can be pompous, self absorbed, and holier-than-thou......
Thank God, most are not.
We used to attend Church regularly. Lately, we've fallen off the wagon.
We're kinda rudderless right now... not because we have doubts, but because we're looking for a certain kind of Church.
We realize we are never going to find a Church full of perfect people.
We'd just like to find a Church that teaches the Bible...
All of it.
From the first page to the last.
A couple years ago, we were attending a Church with a vibrant,
story telling Pastor.
We loved the Pastor, but Sunday School was drop-dead boring.
The problem is programmed learning, brainwashing, selective teaching, whatever you want to call it.
Sunday School lessons were distributed in the form of "Quarterlies"...
booklets sent out every three months that prompted you on what to study each Sunday, including questions so you would get the theme of each suggested reading.
Why is this a problem?
Following these "Quarterlies", you never read the whole Bible.
Areas of the Bible that are considered controversial are avoided like the plague.
We never strayed from the quarterlies.
In all my years as a Christian,
no Church has ever guided me to read "Songs of Solomon".
Do you know why?
In a previous post I said "Peyton Place" has nothing on the Bible...
Turn with me now to "Songs of Solomon" and get your brains blown out!
Songs of Solomon is a wild love story.
Dana Carvey's "The Church Lady" would get the vapors!
Then there's the story about Moses I previously mentioned.
Remember I said Moses' wife did something interesting to keep God from killing her husband?
What she did was... use a sharp stone to cut the foreskin from her son, and spread the blood on Moses' feet.
Moses' FEET!
Keep that in mind, please.
The Book of Ruth...
Ruth was a comely lass. She was attractive enough to draw the attention of Boaz,
a rich property owner who owned the fields that Ruth
and her Mom-in-law, Naomi, were gleaning.
Ruth was recently widowed, and wanted to get closer to Boaz.
Naomi gave Ruth this advice...
"Bathe. Put on something that smells nice. Then go observe Boaz, and when he goes to sleep, go over and uncover his FEET.
He will tell you what to do.
Huh?
Moses' wife spreads the blood from her son's foreskin on his "feet",
and it convinces the Lord to not kill him?
Comely Ruth uncovers Boaz' "feet", and he tells her what to do?
What's goin' on here?
I don't care who or how attractive you are, if you come just after I've gone to sleep and uncover my feet, I'm not gonna be a happy camper!
You be the judge.
I know what I believe...
In the Bible, "feet"are mighty interesting!
I think if more adults were exposed to stories like this and the questions they motivate,
more of them would be likely to attend Sunday School...
maybe they'd even stay awake during Church services.
How about an an eye opener?
In the book of Matthew, in all those "begats", the ancestors that lead to the birth of Jesus Christ, there are only four or so women mentioned... by name or indirectly.
Do yourself a favor, and research the history of all those gals.
Believe me, their stories are extraordinary!
Mary was a Virgin... an innocent, and worthy of respect.
Many of Christ's other female forebears could be the subject of an "R" rated movie!
Yeah, and if you read it, you may be surprised.
Sara Jean and I are proud to say we are Christians.
I think Christianity has been a tremendous force for good in the world.
I know, individual Christians can be pompous, self absorbed, and holier-than-thou......
Thank God, most are not.
We used to attend Church regularly. Lately, we've fallen off the wagon.
We're kinda rudderless right now... not because we have doubts, but because we're looking for a certain kind of Church.
We realize we are never going to find a Church full of perfect people.
We'd just like to find a Church that teaches the Bible...
All of it.
From the first page to the last.
A couple years ago, we were attending a Church with a vibrant,
story telling Pastor.
We loved the Pastor, but Sunday School was drop-dead boring.
The problem is programmed learning, brainwashing, selective teaching, whatever you want to call it.
Sunday School lessons were distributed in the form of "Quarterlies"...
booklets sent out every three months that prompted you on what to study each Sunday, including questions so you would get the theme of each suggested reading.
Why is this a problem?
Following these "Quarterlies", you never read the whole Bible.
Areas of the Bible that are considered controversial are avoided like the plague.
We never strayed from the quarterlies.
In all my years as a Christian,
no Church has ever guided me to read "Songs of Solomon".
Do you know why?
In a previous post I said "Peyton Place" has nothing on the Bible...
Turn with me now to "Songs of Solomon" and get your brains blown out!
Songs of Solomon is a wild love story.
Dana Carvey's "The Church Lady" would get the vapors!
Then there's the story about Moses I previously mentioned.
Remember I said Moses' wife did something interesting to keep God from killing her husband?
What she did was... use a sharp stone to cut the foreskin from her son, and spread the blood on Moses' feet.
Moses' FEET!
Keep that in mind, please.
The Book of Ruth...
Ruth was a comely lass. She was attractive enough to draw the attention of Boaz,
a rich property owner who owned the fields that Ruth
and her Mom-in-law, Naomi, were gleaning.
Ruth was recently widowed, and wanted to get closer to Boaz.
Naomi gave Ruth this advice...
"Bathe. Put on something that smells nice. Then go observe Boaz, and when he goes to sleep, go over and uncover his FEET.
He will tell you what to do.
Huh?
Moses' wife spreads the blood from her son's foreskin on his "feet",
and it convinces the Lord to not kill him?
Comely Ruth uncovers Boaz' "feet", and he tells her what to do?
What's goin' on here?
I don't care who or how attractive you are, if you come just after I've gone to sleep and uncover my feet, I'm not gonna be a happy camper!
You be the judge.
I know what I believe...
In the Bible, "feet"are mighty interesting!
I think if more adults were exposed to stories like this and the questions they motivate,
more of them would be likely to attend Sunday School...
maybe they'd even stay awake during Church services.
How about an an eye opener?
In the book of Matthew, in all those "begats", the ancestors that lead to the birth of Jesus Christ, there are only four or so women mentioned... by name or indirectly.
Do yourself a favor, and research the history of all those gals.
Believe me, their stories are extraordinary!
Mary was a Virgin... an innocent, and worthy of respect.
Many of Christ's other female forebears could be the subject of an "R" rated movie!
14 February 2006
Another Favor, Please:
Some of you did this for me once before.....
Now I'll ask you to do it once more, and this'll be the last time, I promise!
Friend Lee is a budding Novelist and has entered a short-story contest being given by the Ft. Worth Star Telegram.
(He's in the finals!)
I'd appreciate it if you would lend Lee a hand and go to this link:
http://www.dfw.com/mld/dfw/entertainment/special_packages/book15/
Under Lee's Bio, (# 038), find the highlighted words, "Vote here", and click on 'em, then enter the required information...........(takes about 3 minutes).
Look at it this way......the poor guy is lookin' for a major change in his life, and if things work out right, you'll have the warm feeling of knowing you committed a "random act of kindness"!
I'll let ya know how it turns out.
Thanks!
Now I'll ask you to do it once more, and this'll be the last time, I promise!
Friend Lee is a budding Novelist and has entered a short-story contest being given by the Ft. Worth Star Telegram.
(He's in the finals!)
I'd appreciate it if you would lend Lee a hand and go to this link:
http://www.dfw.com/mld/dfw/entertainment/special_packages/book15/
Under Lee's Bio, (# 038), find the highlighted words, "Vote here", and click on 'em, then enter the required information...........(takes about 3 minutes).
Look at it this way......the poor guy is lookin' for a major change in his life, and if things work out right, you'll have the warm feeling of knowing you committed a "random act of kindness"!
I'll let ya know how it turns out.
Thanks!
11 February 2006
Up Yours!
Now, that's not nice, is it?
Yeah, if you are close to my age, it may be.
Have you had your colonoscopy yet?
Dying from colon cancer is an ugly, painful way to die..... and stupid too, because it's controllable these days.
I had my colonoscopy a little over two years ago. I'll tell ya about my experience, and what I'm hearing about how the procedure has changed since.
They gave me a gallon of a clear fluid called "Golightly".
(Sure, it made me think of Audrey Hepburn, but believe me, my body's reaction to it sure as heck wasn't the same!) Golightly flushes your intestines and makes them squeaky clean. You drink this gallon of clear, slightly salty tasting liquid in ONE hour, 8 ounces at a time.
After drinking the first glass, you have a mild case of diarrhea.....a little uncomfortable.
Second glass down........WoW!, can I get to the bathroom quickly enough?
Third glass.........just bring the container here to the bathroom, 'cause I'm stayin'! Honey, could you bring me a magazine?
Fourth glass.......surely there can't be anything more in there, right? But there's still a half-gallon or so of this nasty stuff left to drink!
By the time you finish the gallon, there is nothing but clear fluid coming out, and that's the idea: It gives the Doc a clear view of the walls of your intestinal tract. You can't eat or drink anything until the procedure is over.
Next morning I report to the Doc's office. They start an IV line on me to administer fluids, and give me Demerol and Versed.
Demerol is a pain killer.
Versed makes you drowsy, and helps you to forget that someone is about to feed 30-or-so feet of hose into your behind.
You're laying on your side as the Doc starts the flexible hose on it's journey. It literally is a hollow tube, and he can slide different instruments within this tube, like a camera or cutting devices, or both.
The drugs he gives ya should keep you comfortable during this process. I had a little discomfort when he was forcing the hose the last few feet to it's goal, and after the procedure my Doc was upset that he hadn't given me enough "juice".
(I'll make sure to remind these folks next time!)
On his "Journey Through The Center of Greybeard", he found one polyp that he thought might be a future troublemaker and "nipped it, in the bud!"
The recommended routine now is to get your first one done at about age 50, then another at age 60, and then every 5 years after that, unless they see trouble brewing. So, if you are over 50, get yourself scheduled. Most insurance companies cover it.
It's true when I say that the worst part of the whole procedure for me was drinking the gallon of that foul "Golightly".
Apparently, others thought the same thing.
I'm told that now you drink an 8 ounce glass of an orange flavored potion, and it does what the full gallon of nasty stuff used to do.
That makes it easier to think about going back in a year for a re-check.
The feeling of well-being, knowing that "Mr. C" isn't prowling around in there with nasty plans for my future is well worth the minor discomfort.
Get-R-Done, pilgrim!
Yeah, if you are close to my age, it may be.
Have you had your colonoscopy yet?
Dying from colon cancer is an ugly, painful way to die..... and stupid too, because it's controllable these days.
I had my colonoscopy a little over two years ago. I'll tell ya about my experience, and what I'm hearing about how the procedure has changed since.
They gave me a gallon of a clear fluid called "Golightly".
(Sure, it made me think of Audrey Hepburn, but believe me, my body's reaction to it sure as heck wasn't the same!) Golightly flushes your intestines and makes them squeaky clean. You drink this gallon of clear, slightly salty tasting liquid in ONE hour, 8 ounces at a time.
After drinking the first glass, you have a mild case of diarrhea.....a little uncomfortable.
Second glass down........WoW!, can I get to the bathroom quickly enough?
Third glass.........just bring the container here to the bathroom, 'cause I'm stayin'! Honey, could you bring me a magazine?
Fourth glass.......surely there can't be anything more in there, right? But there's still a half-gallon or so of this nasty stuff left to drink!
By the time you finish the gallon, there is nothing but clear fluid coming out, and that's the idea: It gives the Doc a clear view of the walls of your intestinal tract. You can't eat or drink anything until the procedure is over.
Next morning I report to the Doc's office. They start an IV line on me to administer fluids, and give me Demerol and Versed.
Demerol is a pain killer.
Versed makes you drowsy, and helps you to forget that someone is about to feed 30-or-so feet of hose into your behind.
You're laying on your side as the Doc starts the flexible hose on it's journey. It literally is a hollow tube, and he can slide different instruments within this tube, like a camera or cutting devices, or both.
The drugs he gives ya should keep you comfortable during this process. I had a little discomfort when he was forcing the hose the last few feet to it's goal, and after the procedure my Doc was upset that he hadn't given me enough "juice".
(I'll make sure to remind these folks next time!)
On his "Journey Through The Center of Greybeard", he found one polyp that he thought might be a future troublemaker and "nipped it, in the bud!"
The recommended routine now is to get your first one done at about age 50, then another at age 60, and then every 5 years after that, unless they see trouble brewing. So, if you are over 50, get yourself scheduled. Most insurance companies cover it.
It's true when I say that the worst part of the whole procedure for me was drinking the gallon of that foul "Golightly".
Apparently, others thought the same thing.
I'm told that now you drink an 8 ounce glass of an orange flavored potion, and it does what the full gallon of nasty stuff used to do.
That makes it easier to think about going back in a year for a re-check.
The feeling of well-being, knowing that "Mr. C" isn't prowling around in there with nasty plans for my future is well worth the minor discomfort.
Get-R-Done, pilgrim!
10 February 2006
Might Be Interesting......
Dennis the Peasant is someone I frequently find interesting.
He's a little rough around the edges sometimes, but his site is worth visiting because you find a nugget there now and then.
Next week, he intends to blog about his Muslim clients......folks he has gotten to know and respect.
Knowing nothing about real Muslims, I'll be reading.
I thought some of you might be interested in getting educated too.
He's a little rough around the edges sometimes, but his site is worth visiting because you find a nugget there now and then.
Next week, he intends to blog about his Muslim clients......folks he has gotten to know and respect.
Knowing nothing about real Muslims, I'll be reading.
I thought some of you might be interested in getting educated too.
The Great White Hunter
This is a test.
I'm tryin' to make sure I can download pics from my own computer
so I can broaden my inventory of photos to show you.
I terrify geese!
That picture was taken during last year's Goose Roundup.
That's yours truly in the cockpit, gettin' ready to put my headset on.
Purty, huh? (I mean the helicopter!)
The pic was taken at our local fairgrounds, about 3 miles south of where Sara Jean and Greybeard live.
Purty too, huh?
Good friend and great manager of liquids, Terry N. took the picture.
Terry....can ya believe we are just 4 months from doing it again?!
Neat.
09 February 2006
Outta The Nest!
I just got off the phone with a former student, (former, as of this morning).
He was excited.......
He took his checkride this morning and is now officially a helicopter pilot!
Taking a checkride is stressful for the student, but it's not without stress for the instructor too.
To get to this point I've had to teach the student to hover, then learn all the aspects of flying in the aviation system as it exists today.
That means teaching him not only how to fly the helicopter, but the regulations, weather, communications, navigation/map reading, emergency procedures, airspace restrictions, and a ton of other things.
It's a daunting task.
This particular student knew how to fly airplanes when he came to me, so he already knew how to talk on the radio and get from point A to point B. That made my job a little easier, although there are some airplane things I had to help him "unlearn".
It still took me 50+ hours of flying to get him comfortable in the helicopter, and hours and hours of ground instruction to insure he knew what retreating blade stall and other emergencies are.
So I was also taking a test today.........to check my skills to impart my knowledge in a way he could understand well enough to regurgitate to the examiner.
He did fine. In fact, the examiner told him it may have been the best oral he had ever administered.
Quite a compliment.
I'll take part of the credit.
But the student has to have the right attitude and has to work hard to absorb all the information.
This was a good student.
Today he just started the learning process, believe me.
He was excited.......
He took his checkride this morning and is now officially a helicopter pilot!
Taking a checkride is stressful for the student, but it's not without stress for the instructor too.
To get to this point I've had to teach the student to hover, then learn all the aspects of flying in the aviation system as it exists today.
That means teaching him not only how to fly the helicopter, but the regulations, weather, communications, navigation/map reading, emergency procedures, airspace restrictions, and a ton of other things.
It's a daunting task.
This particular student knew how to fly airplanes when he came to me, so he already knew how to talk on the radio and get from point A to point B. That made my job a little easier, although there are some airplane things I had to help him "unlearn".
It still took me 50+ hours of flying to get him comfortable in the helicopter, and hours and hours of ground instruction to insure he knew what retreating blade stall and other emergencies are.
So I was also taking a test today.........to check my skills to impart my knowledge in a way he could understand well enough to regurgitate to the examiner.
He did fine. In fact, the examiner told him it may have been the best oral he had ever administered.
Quite a compliment.
I'll take part of the credit.
But the student has to have the right attitude and has to work hard to absorb all the information.
This was a good student.
Today he just started the learning process, believe me.
05 February 2006
Night Flying
I've said before, most of my EMS flying is done without benefit of sunshine.
Statistically it is much more dangerous. Recognizing dangerous weather and navigating are more difficult.
In spite of this, I have learned to love night flying.
It all started in Viet Nam. Our enemy found they could fire 122mm. Katusa rockets....(Big, Loud, and Scary).... at our compound and disappear into the background before we could respond and try to help them assume ambient temperature.
Our answer to this threat was to do a "Rocket Recon" just after sunset each night and just before sunrise each morning. We would take off with a team consisting of an OH-6, a UH1-C gunship, and a UH1-H "slick". The little OH-6 would fly at treetop level with Pilot, Crew Chief and Gunner looking for suspicious activity along a swath that marked the rocket's range. My job in the Huey gunship was, as always, to provide cover and protection for the little bird.
The slick flew at altitude and carried 30 parachute flares, which they would manually push out of the aircraft timed so that the area was continuously illuminated for me and the little bird. This system worked pretty well.......except when slick would announce, "that one didn't fire", meaning the flare didn't ignite, leaving two possibilities:
The parachute and the flare both failed and the 15 pound chunk of magnesium was plummeting to the ground, or......
the parachute deployed, and that same 15 pound chunk of magnesium was slowly floating to the ground, nearly invisible, for the two low birds to find with rotors or windshields. When that happened, the little bird popped up to get a better look at surroundings until we were sure the flare was no longer a threat.
The pilots that were involved with this recon mission were excused from duty during the day. The mission required you to fly 90 or so minutes at sunset and sunrise, so you had to roll outta bed pretty early to beat the sun.......most guys didn't like that.
I volunteered for them as often as possible, because it kept me from having to fly in the heat of the day.
There were other benefits too.
Flying machines work better in cooler air.
Fewer flying machines airborne meant less chance of a mid-air collision.
There was less radio traffic at night, so the radios seemed to work better too.
And the biggee for me:
When shot at, you could see the muzzle flashes and knew right where to put your rocket and mini-gun fire to convince those folks they needed to stop that behavior right away!
Now let's explore why I continue to enjoy flying at night:
I have been a manager in one field or another for over 40 years.
I have citations from various supervisors saying I am good at it.
I am not good at keeping my mouth shut when I am exposed to counterproductive management techniques.
While working days, I was almost continually within earshot of managers, (some of them my managers).
Some of these supervisors managed in ways not conducive to forming a "cohesive unit" of those being managed. When I tried to point out the error in their technique, I found some managers, (particularly my own), took offense at my constructive criticisms.
I missed a promotion that was rightfully mine because of my big mouth, and realized that my "constructive criticisms" could eventually cost me my job.
The solution was to pair up with another pilot that wanted to fly days. The Lead Pilot of our base can accomplish more while those he needs to coordinate with are at work, so he agreed to work days while I work nights......and I almost never encounter a manager.
So in the Winter, it's already dark when I come to work.
I do get to fly in daylight during the long hours of summer sometimes.
It's difficult to try to convey how beautiful it is to come into a major city from the relatively unlit countryside at night. The closest I can come is to use an example that requires some knowledge of rocks.........Geodes to be specific. When you crack open a Geode, the interior of the rock is hollow and quartz crystals blaze at you. (The picture isn't a good example of that.)
The first time you do it is a shock!
Flying into the city at night is like that......all the lights laid out before you are breathtaking.
Introducing someone to night flying for the first time, particularly from the helicopter with it's extraordinary visibility, is truly safisfying.
It's one of the things I will miss most when I can no longer turn a rotor blade.
Statistically it is much more dangerous. Recognizing dangerous weather and navigating are more difficult.
In spite of this, I have learned to love night flying.
It all started in Viet Nam. Our enemy found they could fire 122mm. Katusa rockets....(Big, Loud, and Scary).... at our compound and disappear into the background before we could respond and try to help them assume ambient temperature.
Our answer to this threat was to do a "Rocket Recon" just after sunset each night and just before sunrise each morning. We would take off with a team consisting of an OH-6, a UH1-C gunship, and a UH1-H "slick". The little OH-6 would fly at treetop level with Pilot, Crew Chief and Gunner looking for suspicious activity along a swath that marked the rocket's range. My job in the Huey gunship was, as always, to provide cover and protection for the little bird.
The slick flew at altitude and carried 30 parachute flares, which they would manually push out of the aircraft timed so that the area was continuously illuminated for me and the little bird. This system worked pretty well.......except when slick would announce, "that one didn't fire", meaning the flare didn't ignite, leaving two possibilities:
The parachute and the flare both failed and the 15 pound chunk of magnesium was plummeting to the ground, or......
the parachute deployed, and that same 15 pound chunk of magnesium was slowly floating to the ground, nearly invisible, for the two low birds to find with rotors or windshields. When that happened, the little bird popped up to get a better look at surroundings until we were sure the flare was no longer a threat.
The pilots that were involved with this recon mission were excused from duty during the day. The mission required you to fly 90 or so minutes at sunset and sunrise, so you had to roll outta bed pretty early to beat the sun.......most guys didn't like that.
I volunteered for them as often as possible, because it kept me from having to fly in the heat of the day.
There were other benefits too.
Flying machines work better in cooler air.
Fewer flying machines airborne meant less chance of a mid-air collision.
There was less radio traffic at night, so the radios seemed to work better too.
And the biggee for me:
When shot at, you could see the muzzle flashes and knew right where to put your rocket and mini-gun fire to convince those folks they needed to stop that behavior right away!
Now let's explore why I continue to enjoy flying at night:
I have been a manager in one field or another for over 40 years.
I have citations from various supervisors saying I am good at it.
I am not good at keeping my mouth shut when I am exposed to counterproductive management techniques.
While working days, I was almost continually within earshot of managers, (some of them my managers).
Some of these supervisors managed in ways not conducive to forming a "cohesive unit" of those being managed. When I tried to point out the error in their technique, I found some managers, (particularly my own), took offense at my constructive criticisms.
I missed a promotion that was rightfully mine because of my big mouth, and realized that my "constructive criticisms" could eventually cost me my job.
The solution was to pair up with another pilot that wanted to fly days. The Lead Pilot of our base can accomplish more while those he needs to coordinate with are at work, so he agreed to work days while I work nights......and I almost never encounter a manager.
So in the Winter, it's already dark when I come to work.
I do get to fly in daylight during the long hours of summer sometimes.
It's difficult to try to convey how beautiful it is to come into a major city from the relatively unlit countryside at night. The closest I can come is to use an example that requires some knowledge of rocks.........Geodes to be specific. When you crack open a Geode, the interior of the rock is hollow and quartz crystals blaze at you. (The picture isn't a good example of that.)
The first time you do it is a shock!
Flying into the city at night is like that......all the lights laid out before you are breathtaking.
Introducing someone to night flying for the first time, particularly from the helicopter with it's extraordinary visibility, is truly safisfying.
It's one of the things I will miss most when I can no longer turn a rotor blade.
02 February 2006
Jews and Arabs
Tonight on Brit Hume's Fox News show, Mort Kondracke said something to the effect that Arabs continually make "Anti-Semitic" remarks.
Is that possible?
Semite:
1. A member of a group of Semitic-speaking peoples of the Near East and northern Africa, including the Arabs, Arameans, Babylonians, Carthaginians, Ethiopians, Hebrews, and Phoenicians.
That's a definition I found at Dictionary.com.
You can see why I'm confused.......
Can Semites be anti-semitic?
Is that possible?
Semite:
1. A member of a group of Semitic-speaking peoples of the Near East and northern Africa, including the Arabs, Arameans, Babylonians, Carthaginians, Ethiopians, Hebrews, and Phoenicians.
That's a definition I found at Dictionary.com.
You can see why I'm confused.......
Can Semites be anti-semitic?
Independence
From Instapundit,
a detailed article covering a subject we have discussed here in the past..........alcohol as a motor fuel. The article also discusses why hydrogen is NOT the resolution to our energy problem.
Go here and review........
I'm extremely interested in this subject, so you'll see more discussion later.
The big question:
How do we get enough "OOMPF" out of alcohol to power aircraft engines?
a detailed article covering a subject we have discussed here in the past..........alcohol as a motor fuel. The article also discusses why hydrogen is NOT the resolution to our energy problem.
Go here and review........
I'm extremely interested in this subject, so you'll see more discussion later.
The big question:
How do we get enough "OOMPF" out of alcohol to power aircraft engines?
30 January 2006
Size Matters
In this earlier post I discussed the history of the M1911 .45 calibre automatic.
Some years ago, in a controversial decision, the Army switched from the .45 to the 9mm Beretta as their sidearm.
It now appears that in the big bullet vs. smaller bullet comparison, we are taking another look at the big bullet.
Everything old is new again!
(The comments are interesting.)
Some years ago, in a controversial decision, the Army switched from the .45 to the 9mm Beretta as their sidearm.
It now appears that in the big bullet vs. smaller bullet comparison, we are taking another look at the big bullet.
Everything old is new again!
(The comments are interesting.)
28 January 2006
"The Kiss"
Oh no, this ain't goin' where you might imagine!
To fly with my company as a Paramedic or Nurse, you have to have at least 5 years experience in emergency care. So all my Paramedics have been out on the street in ambulances, and have "seen the elephant.......heard the owl."
In another of those late night conversations, one of my favorite Paramedics was talking about airbags, and the perfect lipstick prints he sometimes finds on bags in cars driven by women.
The bag deploys, and the lady "kisses" it as the bag does it's job protecting her.
The thought brought a smile to my face. A good Ad Agency should make an advertisement with an example of this phenomenon.
We also talked about another circumstance. Frequently, particularly when I'm driving long distances and tired, I cross my hands on the steering wheel so my right hand is on the left, and vice-versa. This places my forearms just over the airbag, crossed.
My Paramedic advises me that he also takes patients to the hospital that have put their arm or arms over the bag, only to break their nose with their own extremities.
Take it as a caution from someone that does it too often.........it's better to have nothing between you and the deploying airbag.
That "kiss" needs to be unobstructed.
To fly with my company as a Paramedic or Nurse, you have to have at least 5 years experience in emergency care. So all my Paramedics have been out on the street in ambulances, and have "seen the elephant.......heard the owl."
In another of those late night conversations, one of my favorite Paramedics was talking about airbags, and the perfect lipstick prints he sometimes finds on bags in cars driven by women.
The bag deploys, and the lady "kisses" it as the bag does it's job protecting her.
The thought brought a smile to my face. A good Ad Agency should make an advertisement with an example of this phenomenon.
We also talked about another circumstance. Frequently, particularly when I'm driving long distances and tired, I cross my hands on the steering wheel so my right hand is on the left, and vice-versa. This places my forearms just over the airbag, crossed.
My Paramedic advises me that he also takes patients to the hospital that have put their arm or arms over the bag, only to break their nose with their own extremities.
Take it as a caution from someone that does it too often.........it's better to have nothing between you and the deploying airbag.
That "kiss" needs to be unobstructed.
26 January 2006
I Have No Savings!
(A reminder.....I'm a pilot, not a professional financial advisor.
Do your homework and make your own decisions.)
Big news on financial programs last week:
For the first time since "The Great Depression",
the U.S. population had a NEGATIVE savings rate.
Wow, that's terrible news, isn't it?
Surely we are on the verge of economic collapse!
Well, maybe not.
I'm more worried about current political issues than what I consider some egghead's incorrect definition of savings.
How much money did you put into passbook savings accounts last year?
How 'bout a Certificate of Deposit......
most of which earn about 1% right now.
I'm sure you invested a potload in those, didn't ya?
Me neither.
And that is the definition of "savings" economists are using as their yardstick:
Passbook savings, Christmas savings accounts, Certificates of Deposit......
none of those even keep up with inflation, so virtually no one is using them as an investment vehicle.
Since I have had access to one, I have participated fully in my 403b or 401k plan at work. That means a good chunk of my salary goes into a variety of Mutual Funds, and my employer matches a certain percentage on top of that.
Obviously, I'm hopeful those investments will pay dividends in the future.
But none of that is counted as "Savings"in this definition.
Got an I.R.A.?
Not counted.
An S.E.P.?
Nope.
Keogh plan?
Nein, negative, nosirree.......that's not "savings".
I'm beginning to think my "virtual/adopted" son
Infinitegtr may have the right idea about putting a portion of your money in assets you can hold in your hand, or bite to check for authenticity.........
I'm talking Gold, dear readers.
(Silver or platinum can also be considered, but take the term "hold in your hand" literally.)
I've been accused before of being alarmist. But I have always subscribed to the adage:
"Hope for the best, plan for the worst."
That way, you have most situations covered.
We are looking at ugly situations in at least two spots on the globe:
Iran and Korea.
Hugo Chavez of Venezuela is also flexing his muscles, currying favor with China, Iran, and Cuba.
If we turn Iran or Korea into a glowing wasteland,
or if Iran or Venezuela shut down their oil contribution to the Western world,
or China decides shocking our economy is more important than serving their #1 market..........
a handful of gold coins will serve you better than a wheelbarrow full of greenbacks.
And the great thing is, even if I am wrong, wrong, wrong about all this,
the coins will always have some value.
I hope that you, like me, have been participating in the current market upswing.
If so, don't be too worried hearing all the screaming about "negative savings"........
That comes from using a strange definition.
But you have probably experienced an increase in portfolio value over the last year.
It might be a good time to take a look at your portfolio and consider covering your "worst case" scenario.
Do your homework and make your own decisions.)
Big news on financial programs last week:
For the first time since "The Great Depression",
the U.S. population had a NEGATIVE savings rate.
Wow, that's terrible news, isn't it?
Surely we are on the verge of economic collapse!
Well, maybe not.
I'm more worried about current political issues than what I consider some egghead's incorrect definition of savings.
How much money did you put into passbook savings accounts last year?
How 'bout a Certificate of Deposit......
most of which earn about 1% right now.
I'm sure you invested a potload in those, didn't ya?
Me neither.
And that is the definition of "savings" economists are using as their yardstick:
Passbook savings, Christmas savings accounts, Certificates of Deposit......
none of those even keep up with inflation, so virtually no one is using them as an investment vehicle.
Since I have had access to one, I have participated fully in my 403b or 401k plan at work. That means a good chunk of my salary goes into a variety of Mutual Funds, and my employer matches a certain percentage on top of that.
Obviously, I'm hopeful those investments will pay dividends in the future.
But none of that is counted as "Savings"in this definition.
Got an I.R.A.?
Not counted.
An S.E.P.?
Nope.
Keogh plan?
Nein, negative, nosirree.......that's not "savings".
I'm beginning to think my "virtual/adopted" son
Infinitegtr may have the right idea about putting a portion of your money in assets you can hold in your hand, or bite to check for authenticity.........
I'm talking Gold, dear readers.
(Silver or platinum can also be considered, but take the term "hold in your hand" literally.)
I've been accused before of being alarmist. But I have always subscribed to the adage:
"Hope for the best, plan for the worst."
That way, you have most situations covered.
We are looking at ugly situations in at least two spots on the globe:
Iran and Korea.
Hugo Chavez of Venezuela is also flexing his muscles, currying favor with China, Iran, and Cuba.
If we turn Iran or Korea into a glowing wasteland,
or if Iran or Venezuela shut down their oil contribution to the Western world,
or China decides shocking our economy is more important than serving their #1 market..........
a handful of gold coins will serve you better than a wheelbarrow full of greenbacks.
And the great thing is, even if I am wrong, wrong, wrong about all this,
the coins will always have some value.
I hope that you, like me, have been participating in the current market upswing.
If so, don't be too worried hearing all the screaming about "negative savings"........
That comes from using a strange definition.
But you have probably experienced an increase in portfolio value over the last year.
It might be a good time to take a look at your portfolio and consider covering your "worst case" scenario.
25 January 2006
January 25, 1947
That would be 59 years ago, wouldn't it?
59.
That's the day Al Capone died.
It's also the day an actress named Leigh Taylor Young was born. She later married Ryan O'Neal.
And later divorced him......irreconcilable differences or mental cruelty, I suppose.
Greybeard's Mom had a package arrive that day......red, squirming, and fussing. It was a special day for her, and for me.
I guess it's good to mark Birthdays as special. A time to reflect on where ya been and where you're goin'. And if you're fortunate enough to survive another year, they just keep coming,
so it really makes no sense to fret about 'em.
And 59.........
Still starts with fifty, so that's not so bad, right?
And I have an entire year to adjust to the fact that my next birthday will be the portal to another decade, starting with the dreaded "6".
Any age starting with a six is undeniably old, isn't it?
I take some solace in the fact that others say, "well, ya don't look it." when they hear my age.
It's comforting to hear, even if they're lying to me.
My health is great. My mind still works well enough to figure out how to post on my blog. I wake in the morning looking forward to the day.
And something that I hope all of you experience........
Wisdom can come with age, if you allow it.
I know I still have much to learn. I'm more willing to learn now than I have ever been.
I'm lucky enough to have a teaching job, and I enjoy that too. Oddly, while teaching, I learn more.
I know what makes me happy, and I'm better at avoiding people and things that complicate my life.
Flying the helicopter ambulance is a constant reminder that in spite of all we do, none of us is promised a sunrise tomorrow morning.
So my wish to you today is that you enjoy your life. Surround yourself with people and things that stimulate you, make you feel good, make you smile.
I want to thank those of you that stop by "Pitchpull" to visit, particularly those that leave comments to let me know how my thoughts affect you.
My "virtual" family has become a source of enjoyment and stimulation.........and smiles to me.
With your help, I can handle 59. But next year?
I may take a hint from Jack Benny.
Postscript:
Well, it didn't break the camera!
59.
That's the day Al Capone died.
It's also the day an actress named Leigh Taylor Young was born. She later married Ryan O'Neal.
And later divorced him......irreconcilable differences or mental cruelty, I suppose.
Greybeard's Mom had a package arrive that day......red, squirming, and fussing. It was a special day for her, and for me.
I guess it's good to mark Birthdays as special. A time to reflect on where ya been and where you're goin'. And if you're fortunate enough to survive another year, they just keep coming,
so it really makes no sense to fret about 'em.
And 59.........
Still starts with fifty, so that's not so bad, right?
And I have an entire year to adjust to the fact that my next birthday will be the portal to another decade, starting with the dreaded "6".
Any age starting with a six is undeniably old, isn't it?
I take some solace in the fact that others say, "well, ya don't look it." when they hear my age.
It's comforting to hear, even if they're lying to me.
My health is great. My mind still works well enough to figure out how to post on my blog. I wake in the morning looking forward to the day.
And something that I hope all of you experience........
Wisdom can come with age, if you allow it.
I know I still have much to learn. I'm more willing to learn now than I have ever been.
I'm lucky enough to have a teaching job, and I enjoy that too. Oddly, while teaching, I learn more.
I know what makes me happy, and I'm better at avoiding people and things that complicate my life.
Flying the helicopter ambulance is a constant reminder that in spite of all we do, none of us is promised a sunrise tomorrow morning.
So my wish to you today is that you enjoy your life. Surround yourself with people and things that stimulate you, make you feel good, make you smile.
I want to thank those of you that stop by "Pitchpull" to visit, particularly those that leave comments to let me know how my thoughts affect you.
My "virtual" family has become a source of enjoyment and stimulation.........and smiles to me.
With your help, I can handle 59. But next year?
I may take a hint from Jack Benny.
Postscript:
Well, it didn't break the camera!
22 January 2006
The Communist News Network
After I found out CNN had been censoring their News output in order to keep Saddam Hussein happy, the only reason I ever watched the network was to catch 
Robin Meade, left, or Rudi Bakhtiar, lower right, reading the headlines.
(I know......Dirty Old Man!)
Robin is the morning anchor for CNN's "Headline News", and she is a hoot. I'd buy dinner just to watch her chew.
Rudi anchored CNN/HN's night desk, and didn't have the platform to show her personality much. She's just easy on the eyes.
I turned on "Fair and Balanced" Fox News this afternoon, and guess who I saw?
Rudi, Rudi, Rudi!
It's obvious Fox knows how to get men to watch.....
They took Martha MacCallum from MSNBC a year ago.
C'mon Robin!
I know how to increase your viewership with one simple move!
P.S. A thought to counter any idea that Fox is nothing but a beauty pageant:
Robert Novak is in, Laurie Dhue is gone!
20 January 2006
The Lone Ranger
Gonna show my age:
We got our first TV in the early 50's.
I can remember getting up in the morning, turning the TV on, and watching the "Test Pattern" until programming began.
I have fond memories of many of the shows on the tube back then:
"I Love Lucy".
"The Honeymooners".
"20th Century".
Some time back, one of our independent stations advertised they had acquired the rights to show a real favorite of mine from those days, "The Lone Ranger".
They were going to air the show early in the morning, in a time slot where I could watch as I ate breakfast while getting ready for work. I can remember being pretty excited when I heard the announcement!
Boy, Oh Boy!......
Something sure happened to the acting on that show during the time it was dormant.....
Acting was terrible, plot lines were thin to non-existent.
I didn't watch long, and apparently others didn't either. The show didn't stay in that time slot for more than a couple months.
The shows I listed above have aged well, and along with "The Twilight Zone", "Dick Van Dyke", "Alfred Hitchcock Presents", some can be seen in syndication today.
Some that I enjoyed then that I would love to see but haven't seen since their original airing, maybe because there weren't enough of them made to sell in syndication, are: "Make Room For Daddy", "Have Gun Will Travel", and "Father Knows Best".
Of course maybe, like "The Lone Ranger", I'd be disappointed to find my memory of the quality of those shows was better than the reality!
We got our first TV in the early 50's.
I can remember getting up in the morning, turning the TV on, and watching the "Test Pattern" until programming began.
I have fond memories of many of the shows on the tube back then:
"I Love Lucy".
"The Honeymooners".
"20th Century".
Some time back, one of our independent stations advertised they had acquired the rights to show a real favorite of mine from those days, "The Lone Ranger".
They were going to air the show early in the morning, in a time slot where I could watch as I ate breakfast while getting ready for work. I can remember being pretty excited when I heard the announcement!
Boy, Oh Boy!......
Something sure happened to the acting on that show during the time it was dormant.....
Acting was terrible, plot lines were thin to non-existent.
I didn't watch long, and apparently others didn't either. The show didn't stay in that time slot for more than a couple months.
The shows I listed above have aged well, and along with "The Twilight Zone", "Dick Van Dyke", "Alfred Hitchcock Presents", some can be seen in syndication today.
Some that I enjoyed then that I would love to see but haven't seen since their original airing, maybe because there weren't enough of them made to sell in syndication, are: "Make Room For Daddy", "Have Gun Will Travel", and "Father Knows Best".
Of course maybe, like "The Lone Ranger", I'd be disappointed to find my memory of the quality of those shows was better than the reality!
Big Bubba and the 20 Jan. Open Forum
18 January 2006
Heartbreaking
"Your patient is a 39 year old male, trauma inflicted by a Bull."
We do a lot of stuff that gets routine to us......this time of year we carry a lot of Cardiac patients to get the specialized care they need in the "Big City".
Trauma patients are a break from the relative boredom of all the heart stuff.
And this one.......inflicted by a Bull!
You remember the game:
I land and cool down the engines while my crew goes in to "kick death in the butt".
I shut the helicopter down and walk into the ER to see CPR in progress on this guy.......
Easily 6 feet tall and all of 250 pounds........not much fat on him at all......solid.
He got into a stall with a cantankerous 2,500 pound Bull, and the animal crushed him against the wall.
"Everyone clear?"
Again.......
"Everyone clear?"
Zap!
Defibrillator.
It's the one thing they get right in movies and TV shows......
the patient literally jumps about 4 inches off the bed.
Once more:
"Everyone clear?"
ZAP!
Back to CPR.
"Give him some Eppie!".........adrenaline, to further kick his heart in gear.
"Chest tubes!".........
to drain blood from his chest cavity, and make breathing easier.
Blood drips all over the floor.
I move to the reception desk
and watch the monitor for trauma room 1.
Heart rate is 34. The wave shown on the monitor is 'way abnormal, and in small red letters above the wave it says, "V-tach."
Better than nothin', but not much.
After the adrenaline is given, I watch the numbers climb......58, 75, 105, 125.......
But the heartwave is still strange lookin'.
Within a few minutes, the numbers retreat........100, 80, 65, 50, back to 34.
More Eppie......
Roller Coaster.
"We need blood! Where's the blood?"
"We crossed and matched the last of it!"
Uh-Oh.
The numbers start back up, and again reach 125. Wave still looks terrible.
The Sister from Pastoral care comes in with three women, obviously sisters.
The one in the middle sees the CPR in progress and her knees buckle.
Her sisters support her.
She wails.
They escort her into the trauma room with her husband.
I'm incredulous, but this is the way they do things today.
Blood arrives from a nearby hospital.
They give it, but our patient is bleeding it internally just as fast as they can administer it.
The door to the waiting room opens.
Mom and Dad maybe, and a brother?
Strong smell of cow manure........
In the middle of this confusion........a comforting smell to a pilot raised in farm country.
Wife's sisters both on cell phones, telling others "it's bad."
More folks through the door. This hospital has a very liberal policy about this.
Within this gaggle is the 12 year old son.
This boy has the "100 yard stare" of a combat veteran.
Face, arms, and from the waist down.....covered in mud. (Or manure?)
I overhear a conversation about the boy.
Last year, a huge round hay bale fell on his grandfather breaking both his legs, and the boy was the only help the old man could depend on. The boy got on a tractor with a front-end loader and pushed the bale off his granddad, then loaded him in the bucket and drove him to get help.
He made the TV news as a local hero.
Tonight, he used the same tractor to load his Dad and rush for help.
They bring the boy over and introduce me as "the Pilot that will fly your Dad to get him help."
I hug him.
I cry.
I'm ashamed of myself for maybe taking away any hope he might have.
Heart numbers up, down, then up again, and stabilize somewhat.
It's been two-and-a-half hours since we landed.
We load him for the 19 minute flight to the Trauma Center.
Four minutes from landing, he arrests again.
He dies.
Sometimes you do your best, and it just ain't enough.
Tonight, the Bull won.
We do a lot of stuff that gets routine to us......this time of year we carry a lot of Cardiac patients to get the specialized care they need in the "Big City".
Trauma patients are a break from the relative boredom of all the heart stuff.
And this one.......inflicted by a Bull!
You remember the game:
I land and cool down the engines while my crew goes in to "kick death in the butt".
I shut the helicopter down and walk into the ER to see CPR in progress on this guy.......
Easily 6 feet tall and all of 250 pounds........not much fat on him at all......solid.
He got into a stall with a cantankerous 2,500 pound Bull, and the animal crushed him against the wall.
"Everyone clear?"
Again.......
"Everyone clear?"
Zap!
Defibrillator.
It's the one thing they get right in movies and TV shows......
the patient literally jumps about 4 inches off the bed.
Once more:
"Everyone clear?"
ZAP!
Back to CPR.
"Give him some Eppie!".........adrenaline, to further kick his heart in gear.
"Chest tubes!".........
to drain blood from his chest cavity, and make breathing easier.
Blood drips all over the floor.
I move to the reception desk
and watch the monitor for trauma room 1.
Heart rate is 34. The wave shown on the monitor is 'way abnormal, and in small red letters above the wave it says, "V-tach."
Better than nothin', but not much.
After the adrenaline is given, I watch the numbers climb......58, 75, 105, 125.......
But the heartwave is still strange lookin'.
Within a few minutes, the numbers retreat........100, 80, 65, 50, back to 34.
More Eppie......
Roller Coaster.
"We need blood! Where's the blood?"
"We crossed and matched the last of it!"
Uh-Oh.
The numbers start back up, and again reach 125. Wave still looks terrible.
The Sister from Pastoral care comes in with three women, obviously sisters.
The one in the middle sees the CPR in progress and her knees buckle.
Her sisters support her.
She wails.
They escort her into the trauma room with her husband.
I'm incredulous, but this is the way they do things today.
Blood arrives from a nearby hospital.
They give it, but our patient is bleeding it internally just as fast as they can administer it.
The door to the waiting room opens.
Mom and Dad maybe, and a brother?
Strong smell of cow manure........
In the middle of this confusion........a comforting smell to a pilot raised in farm country.
Wife's sisters both on cell phones, telling others "it's bad."
More folks through the door. This hospital has a very liberal policy about this.
Within this gaggle is the 12 year old son.
This boy has the "100 yard stare" of a combat veteran.
Face, arms, and from the waist down.....covered in mud. (Or manure?)
I overhear a conversation about the boy.
Last year, a huge round hay bale fell on his grandfather breaking both his legs, and the boy was the only help the old man could depend on. The boy got on a tractor with a front-end loader and pushed the bale off his granddad, then loaded him in the bucket and drove him to get help.
He made the TV news as a local hero.
Tonight, he used the same tractor to load his Dad and rush for help.
They bring the boy over and introduce me as "the Pilot that will fly your Dad to get him help."
I hug him.
I cry.
I'm ashamed of myself for maybe taking away any hope he might have.
Heart numbers up, down, then up again, and stabilize somewhat.
It's been two-and-a-half hours since we landed.
We load him for the 19 minute flight to the Trauma Center.
Four minutes from landing, he arrests again.
He dies.
Sometimes you do your best, and it just ain't enough.
Tonight, the Bull won.
17 January 2006
Puppy Breath
Avid "Pitchpullers" know the story of "Little Bubba", our miniature Dachshund that was hit and killed while protecting me from evil grey squirrels. Those that don't know the story can quickly come up to speed by reading old posts:
Here
and
then here .
The lady that bred Little Bubba is a friend,
and was as crushed as we to hear he had died.
She immediately bred Little Bubba's Mother again,
mostly to supply us with another pup.
She was ecstatic when she called to tell us the bitch was pregnant, and proudly announced we would have a "Christmas Puppy".
When the puppies were born, Sara Jean and Big Bubba went over to look them over, and picked the pup from the litter that most reminded them of Little Bubba in looks and personality. We all went over to handle and visit him as often as possible, hoping to help avoid "separation anxiety" and the crying stage that pups generally go through for two or three nights when you first bring them home. Sara Jean invested a great deal of time in this effort.
On Christmas Eve,
the breeder drove into our driveway and presented us with the pup.
Like Little Bubba, he was tiny.
I asked how old he was.........5 weeks.
To me, that seemed mighty early to wean a pup.
She gave us goat's milk and said we should mix it with a little water and try to get him to eat often.......every three hours or so, if possible.
He was cute as a bug.
He slept most of Christmas Eve, but was feisty while he was awake.
He also slept most of Christmas day. He didn't have much of an appetite......wasn't at all interested in the goat's milk.
We had planned on taking off on a little vacation in paradise during the week between Christmas and New Year's. I got off work the morning of the 26th expecting to rush home, put Wife, Son, and new Pup in the car,
and get an early start South.
Wrong!
Big Bubba woke in the wee hours and found the pup dead.
He had been shivering terribly, and Big Bubba covered him with a feather pillow to try to warm him. The pup died without a whimper of warning.
I came home to tears all around.
It brought to the surface the pain of losing "Little Bubba" all over again.
We all were crushed.
I called the breeder to tell her, and you can imagine her reaction.......
"Take him to the Veterinarian and I'll call and have an autopsy done."
She wasn't accusing us, but needed to know if she was going to get similar calls from owners of other new pups from this same litter.
I was surprised to find the Vet. open the day after Christmas.
We dropped the poor guy off as we headed Southbound.
The verdict?
Hypoglycemia........low blood sugar.
In her attempt to deliver a pup for Christmas, our friend weaned this little guy too early.
He couldn't thrive.
Of course, this made our mood even worse, thinking of how this poor little fella may have suffered during his too short life!
We were halfway to the Panhandle when Sara Jean's cell rang.
It was the breeder.
"I sold a pup to a gal that made a present of it to her 84 year old Mother.
The pup is too much for the old gal, and she is bringing it back.
Are you interested in him?"
I couldn't hear the conversation, but saw the tears start to flow.
Sara Jean announced the news to Big Bubba and me.
Then there were tears all around!
She put this pup back on Mom's teat for two weeks.
When we got home, he was strong and rambunctious.
He is black and tan, as opposed to Little Bubba's beautiful red coloration.
He does not have Little Bubba's personality........he's much more aggressive.
But he is already a member of our family.
He's smart as a whip.....stops to watch TV, and watches the screen scroll up on my laptop while he helps me blog.
He's already showing signs of being housebroken at 8 weeks of age.
And he has "Puppy Breath", which we have decided smells a little like coffee.......all pups have it......a comforting smell.
Like Little Bubba, he burrows beneath the covers to find the warmest spot of my body to take a nap.
He's healing a huge wound.
How do we not spoil him rotten?
Here
and
then here .
The lady that bred Little Bubba is a friend,
and was as crushed as we to hear he had died.
She immediately bred Little Bubba's Mother again,
mostly to supply us with another pup.
She was ecstatic when she called to tell us the bitch was pregnant, and proudly announced we would have a "Christmas Puppy".
When the puppies were born, Sara Jean and Big Bubba went over to look them over, and picked the pup from the litter that most reminded them of Little Bubba in looks and personality. We all went over to handle and visit him as often as possible, hoping to help avoid "separation anxiety" and the crying stage that pups generally go through for two or three nights when you first bring them home. Sara Jean invested a great deal of time in this effort.
On Christmas Eve,
the breeder drove into our driveway and presented us with the pup.
Like Little Bubba, he was tiny.
I asked how old he was.........5 weeks.
To me, that seemed mighty early to wean a pup.
She gave us goat's milk and said we should mix it with a little water and try to get him to eat often.......every three hours or so, if possible.
He was cute as a bug.
He slept most of Christmas Eve, but was feisty while he was awake.
He also slept most of Christmas day. He didn't have much of an appetite......wasn't at all interested in the goat's milk.
We had planned on taking off on a little vacation in paradise during the week between Christmas and New Year's. I got off work the morning of the 26th expecting to rush home, put Wife, Son, and new Pup in the car,
and get an early start South.
Wrong!
Big Bubba woke in the wee hours and found the pup dead.
He had been shivering terribly, and Big Bubba covered him with a feather pillow to try to warm him. The pup died without a whimper of warning.
I came home to tears all around.
It brought to the surface the pain of losing "Little Bubba" all over again.
We all were crushed.
I called the breeder to tell her, and you can imagine her reaction.......
"Take him to the Veterinarian and I'll call and have an autopsy done."
She wasn't accusing us, but needed to know if she was going to get similar calls from owners of other new pups from this same litter.
I was surprised to find the Vet. open the day after Christmas.
We dropped the poor guy off as we headed Southbound.
The verdict?
Hypoglycemia........low blood sugar.
In her attempt to deliver a pup for Christmas, our friend weaned this little guy too early.
He couldn't thrive.
Of course, this made our mood even worse, thinking of how this poor little fella may have suffered during his too short life!
We were halfway to the Panhandle when Sara Jean's cell rang.
It was the breeder.
"I sold a pup to a gal that made a present of it to her 84 year old Mother.
The pup is too much for the old gal, and she is bringing it back.
Are you interested in him?"
I couldn't hear the conversation, but saw the tears start to flow.
Sara Jean announced the news to Big Bubba and me.
Then there were tears all around!
She put this pup back on Mom's teat for two weeks.
When we got home, he was strong and rambunctious.
He is black and tan, as opposed to Little Bubba's beautiful red coloration.
He does not have Little Bubba's personality........he's much more aggressive.
But he is already a member of our family.
He's smart as a whip.....stops to watch TV, and watches the screen scroll up on my laptop while he helps me blog.
He's already showing signs of being housebroken at 8 weeks of age.
And he has "Puppy Breath", which we have decided smells a little like coffee.......all pups have it......a comforting smell.
Like Little Bubba, he burrows beneath the covers to find the warmest spot of my body to take a nap.
He's healing a huge wound.
How do we not spoil him rotten?
12 January 2006
Friday the 13th! Open Forum Time!
Superstitious? Just a little maybe?
Be careful out there!
Sara Jean and I are driving South again today.
It was 61 here today, but will be in the 20's tonight......
a great time to be buggin' out!
Pray for safe travels for us. I'll keep you posted if anything
extraordinary happens.
In the meantime,
if you have something you absolutely need to get off your chest.....
Or you just have to share some great news....
leave a comment!
Can't Help Myself!
11 January 2006
GM, Chrysler, Ford, Citroen?
Regular readers know the story of our last new car purchase.
It was a Chrysler LHS, and it has served us pretty well.........193,000 miles now.
Several planets will come into alignment at the end of the year:
Big Bubba will get his degree, so college costs go away.
I will start drawing my Army Reserve Retirement.
I'll be eligible, if I want, to start withdrawing
I.R.A./403b/401k funds without penalty.
I have no idea how my life will change at the end of the year......
Things at my EMS job are in a state of flux.
I'm getting old and grumpy and I'm not adjusting as quickly as I once did.
I'm seriously taking a look at retirement, or at least semi-retirement.
But back to the subject of this post.
We are gonna need new rolling stock within the year, and I enjoy researching a new car purchase for a while.
The question on the table is this:
What's the best way to go?
Sis bought a Kia Optima two years ago.
For the price, it's a sursprisingly nice car.......looks good,
gets great gas mileage, and comes with that 100,000 mile warranty!
She also gets free tires for the life of the car.
Kia/Hyundai are owned by the same Korean parent company,
and are making huge improvements in quality.
Both make a nice looking, comfortable, mid-size sedan that would fit our needs.
I'm glad Sis bought her Kia.
It gave me the chance to watch her experience from afar.
So far, the little Optima has performed well.
Sis has had no real difficulties with it.
The only fly in the ointment with the Kia/Hyundai is the resale value.
It goes in the pooper the minute you drive it off the dealer's lot.
This means nothing, of course, if you actually drive it for the 100K miles....
By then it's more than paid for itself.
Or...........
I really like the new Cadillac STS.
From reports I read,
Cadillac has done a real turn-around and is building fine cars again.
The STS is nice looking. Seats four comfortably and five in a pinch.
And with that Northstar engine, it goes like STINK!
Buying one would mean needing to trade within a few years, 'cause the Caddy doesn't come with the monster warranty like the Kia.
But the Cadillac maintains a pretty good resale value.
So, what're your thoughts? Upscale or down? Buy the warranty and drive the wheels off the thing, or buy the fantasy and trade before the warranty runs out?
Maybe you have a totally different idea?
I've got a year or so to make up my mind.
It was a Chrysler LHS, and it has served us pretty well.........193,000 miles now.
Several planets will come into alignment at the end of the year:
Big Bubba will get his degree, so college costs go away.
I will start drawing my Army Reserve Retirement.
I'll be eligible, if I want, to start withdrawing
I.R.A./403b/401k funds without penalty.
I have no idea how my life will change at the end of the year......
Things at my EMS job are in a state of flux.
I'm getting old and grumpy and I'm not adjusting as quickly as I once did.
I'm seriously taking a look at retirement, or at least semi-retirement.
But back to the subject of this post.
We are gonna need new rolling stock within the year, and I enjoy researching a new car purchase for a while.
The question on the table is this:
What's the best way to go?
Sis bought a Kia Optima two years ago.
For the price, it's a sursprisingly nice car.......looks good,
gets great gas mileage, and comes with that 100,000 mile warranty!
She also gets free tires for the life of the car.
Kia/Hyundai are owned by the same Korean parent company,
and are making huge improvements in quality.
Both make a nice looking, comfortable, mid-size sedan that would fit our needs.
I'm glad Sis bought her Kia.
It gave me the chance to watch her experience from afar.
So far, the little Optima has performed well.
Sis has had no real difficulties with it.
The only fly in the ointment with the Kia/Hyundai is the resale value.
It goes in the pooper the minute you drive it off the dealer's lot.
This means nothing, of course, if you actually drive it for the 100K miles....
By then it's more than paid for itself.
Or...........
I really like the new Cadillac STS.
From reports I read,
Cadillac has done a real turn-around and is building fine cars again.
The STS is nice looking. Seats four comfortably and five in a pinch.
And with that Northstar engine, it goes like STINK!
Buying one would mean needing to trade within a few years, 'cause the Caddy doesn't come with the monster warranty like the Kia.
But the Cadillac maintains a pretty good resale value.
So, what're your thoughts? Upscale or down? Buy the warranty and drive the wheels off the thing, or buy the fantasy and trade before the warranty runs out?
Maybe you have a totally different idea?
I've got a year or so to make up my mind.
10 January 2006
Misconceptions
Two things I hear a lot that surprise me:
"I could never do what you do........I'm afraid of heights."
"When the engine quits, doesn't the helicopter fall like a rock?"
No one is more "afraid of heights" than Greybeard.
Put me above the third rung on a ladder, and my knees are audibly knocking!
The whole idea of being afraid of high places is wrong anyway......
We're not really "afraid of heights".........we're afraid of falling.
When I'm securely strapped into the machine I have no fear of falling out, so I'm perfectly comfortable flying at any altitude.
Similarly, would I risk my ample derriere in a helicopter if I thought it would assume the aerodynamic characteristics of a brick when the engine quit?
As we've discussed before, a powerplant failure in a helicopter is much less dangerous than the same event in an airplane, because the helicopter floats down like a Maple seed until it gets close to the ground, then the helicopter pilot can slow both the forward and vertical speeds to nearly zero.
In today's information age, why do these misconceptions continue to exist?
"I could never do what you do........I'm afraid of heights."
"When the engine quits, doesn't the helicopter fall like a rock?"
No one is more "afraid of heights" than Greybeard.
Put me above the third rung on a ladder, and my knees are audibly knocking!
The whole idea of being afraid of high places is wrong anyway......
We're not really "afraid of heights".........we're afraid of falling.
When I'm securely strapped into the machine I have no fear of falling out, so I'm perfectly comfortable flying at any altitude.
Similarly, would I risk my ample derriere in a helicopter if I thought it would assume the aerodynamic characteristics of a brick when the engine quit?
As we've discussed before, a powerplant failure in a helicopter is much less dangerous than the same event in an airplane, because the helicopter floats down like a Maple seed until it gets close to the ground, then the helicopter pilot can slow both the forward and vertical speeds to nearly zero.
In today's information age, why do these misconceptions continue to exist?
08 January 2006
No Problem!
I say, "Thank You".
Generation "Y" person likely will respond, "No Problem!"
I'm slightly offended. I didn't realize I had presented a problem.
Whatever happened to good, old fashioned, "You're Welcome"?
Generation "Y" person likely will respond, "No Problem!"
I'm slightly offended. I didn't realize I had presented a problem.
Whatever happened to good, old fashioned, "You're Welcome"?
2006 I.D.I.O.T.
Certainly I am not so dense to think my readers didn't know the point I was trying to make.
2006 C.E. ?
What a pantload!
I asked what happened to start the "common era" 2006 years ago, and got some nice explanations as to what C.E. is, but no answer as to what started it.
The reason?
I believe this common era probably started with the birth of Jesus Christ.
That makes it pretty special in my book!
If I'm wrong, I'll immediately give up my candidacy for the position of "King of the World".....
I certainly can't be that delusional and hope to lead you all to a more wonderful existence!
But what am I to think of anyone that would try to make me think the date 2006 has nothing to do with my personal Lord and Savior?
Those folks should immediately start using the Chinese or Jewish Calendars. The date at the top of those is not 2006. I'm sure they would be much more comfortable with them!
Or maybe this is all just a stupid joke that I didn't completely understand.
I really can be pretty thick, ya know.
In that case, let's use dates like:
2006 H.Y. (Henny Youngman)
or
2006 P.F. (Pink Flamingo)
Both make as much sense as C.E., because.......try all you wish to separate 2006 from Anno Domini, when you see the number 2006, remember......
it is inseparably connected to Jesus Christ!
And.......2006 I.D.I.O.T.?
Illuminating
Deceptions
Involving
Our
Time!
Sorry to burst so many bubbles out there.
2006 C.E. ?
What a pantload!
I asked what happened to start the "common era" 2006 years ago, and got some nice explanations as to what C.E. is, but no answer as to what started it.
The reason?
I believe this common era probably started with the birth of Jesus Christ.
That makes it pretty special in my book!
If I'm wrong, I'll immediately give up my candidacy for the position of "King of the World".....
I certainly can't be that delusional and hope to lead you all to a more wonderful existence!
But what am I to think of anyone that would try to make me think the date 2006 has nothing to do with my personal Lord and Savior?
Those folks should immediately start using the Chinese or Jewish Calendars. The date at the top of those is not 2006. I'm sure they would be much more comfortable with them!
Or maybe this is all just a stupid joke that I didn't completely understand.
I really can be pretty thick, ya know.
In that case, let's use dates like:
2006 H.Y. (Henny Youngman)
or
2006 P.F. (Pink Flamingo)
Both make as much sense as C.E., because.......try all you wish to separate 2006 from Anno Domini, when you see the number 2006, remember......
it is inseparably connected to Jesus Christ!
And.......2006 I.D.I.O.T.?
Illuminating
Deceptions
Involving
Our
Time!
Sorry to burst so many bubbles out there.
06 January 2006
Purple Tabby's Nine Lives
Posted at the old "Purple Tabby" site:
It is with heavy heart that I must report the death of Purple Tabby.
Purple Tabby's owners came home Christmas Eve to a cloud of smoke and the smell of singed hair and overcooked meat. On further investigation, they found Purple Tabby beneath the tree, still smoldering, with a very surprised look on her face.
As it turns out, the owners had left Purple Tabby home for the holiday, and in a fit of rage, Purple Tabby took it out on the wiring for the Christmas tree lights.
But don't be dismayed, Purple Tabby has 8 lives left!
She continues to purr at:
http://www.purpletabbyhome.blogspot.com
Go
Read
Enjoy.
It is with heavy heart that I must report the death of Purple Tabby.
Purple Tabby's owners came home Christmas Eve to a cloud of smoke and the smell of singed hair and overcooked meat. On further investigation, they found Purple Tabby beneath the tree, still smoldering, with a very surprised look on her face.
As it turns out, the owners had left Purple Tabby home for the holiday, and in a fit of rage, Purple Tabby took it out on the wiring for the Christmas tree lights.
But don't be dismayed, Purple Tabby has 8 lives left!
She continues to purr at:
http://www.purpletabbyhome.blogspot.com
Go
Read
Enjoy.
Dad's Deadpool
I just added another blog to the blogroll. I happened upon "The Oldman's" blog when I read a particularly insightful and concise comment he left on Chuck Simmin's blog.
The Old man was 20 miles from me when I started my tour in Viet Nam.
He's a little more direct than I am with some of his views, but we have a similar sense of things.
New Orleans is improving because of his work.
Drop by and give him a look.
The Old man was 20 miles from me when I started my tour in Viet Nam.
He's a little more direct than I am with some of his views, but we have a similar sense of things.
New Orleans is improving because of his work.
Drop by and give him a look.
03 January 2006
Helicopter "Stealth Mode"
The impact Hollywood has on the general public can't be overestimated. After "Blue Thunder" was a big hit, I had to explain to more people than you might imagine how there was no such thing as "Stealth Mode" on the helicopter!
The machine I fly weighs just under 7,500 pounds when it is at it's maximum weight. It has to move a lot of air to pick it's fat self up.
There are two 700 horsepower engines doin' a lot of work, and lots of stuff turning in order to get that job done.
The noise it makes is beyond the threshold of pain.
We are aware of the noise, particularly at night.
When I teach students, I tell them, "fly over a guy's house once and he'll say to himself, 'sounds like a helicopter.'
Fly over a second time, and he'll exclaim, 'damned noisy helicopter!'
Fly over the third time, and he'll be saying, 'what's the phone number for the FAA?'"
He has that right. We'd like to avoid that outcome.
I fly straight nights.
I prefer night flying for reasons that started with my tour in Viet Nam, and I'll cover that in detail later.
Night flying can be hard.
Weather can make it more dangerous.
It's also when more of the serious accidents happen, and I do more scene responses than the day guy does. Scene landings are the closest thing to Combat flying you can do as a civilian. They get your blood pumping!
Our aircraft is based at a little airport in a town of 4500 people.
When we take off at 3 A.M., we try to make as little noise as possible.
Even so, most of the 4500 know we are on our way somewhere.
Last week, one of my Flight Nurses was in the Wal-Mart SuperCenter in uniform, standing in line waiting on the cashier. A lady walked up behind her in line and said, "I live just down the road from where you park your aircraft. I hear you guys taking off at all hours of the night."
My Nurse tensed a little for what she expected.......a noise complaint.
Instead, what she heard was, "I just want you to know how comforting it is to hear that helicopter going out to help someone. It's good to know you are here in case we need you."
Isn't that nice?
Warms my heart!
The machine I fly weighs just under 7,500 pounds when it is at it's maximum weight. It has to move a lot of air to pick it's fat self up.
There are two 700 horsepower engines doin' a lot of work, and lots of stuff turning in order to get that job done.
The noise it makes is beyond the threshold of pain.
We are aware of the noise, particularly at night.
When I teach students, I tell them, "fly over a guy's house once and he'll say to himself, 'sounds like a helicopter.'
Fly over a second time, and he'll exclaim, 'damned noisy helicopter!'
Fly over the third time, and he'll be saying, 'what's the phone number for the FAA?'"
He has that right. We'd like to avoid that outcome.
I fly straight nights.
I prefer night flying for reasons that started with my tour in Viet Nam, and I'll cover that in detail later.
Night flying can be hard.
Weather can make it more dangerous.
It's also when more of the serious accidents happen, and I do more scene responses than the day guy does. Scene landings are the closest thing to Combat flying you can do as a civilian. They get your blood pumping!
Our aircraft is based at a little airport in a town of 4500 people.
When we take off at 3 A.M., we try to make as little noise as possible.
Even so, most of the 4500 know we are on our way somewhere.
Last week, one of my Flight Nurses was in the Wal-Mart SuperCenter in uniform, standing in line waiting on the cashier. A lady walked up behind her in line and said, "I live just down the road from where you park your aircraft. I hear you guys taking off at all hours of the night."
My Nurse tensed a little for what she expected.......a noise complaint.
Instead, what she heard was, "I just want you to know how comforting it is to hear that helicopter going out to help someone. It's good to know you are here in case we need you."
Isn't that nice?
Warms my heart!
02 January 2006
Censoring a Great Story
You were born in difficult times.
Your Mother literally feared for your life, and rather than lose you,
chose an unorthodox method of putting you up for adoption.
Her method worked.
You were raised in opulence.
Your adoptive parents truly loved you as their own.
But you had questions about your heritage,
and finding answers put you in conflict with your upbringing.
When you are old enough to strike out on your own, you leave the life of wealth and comfort behind you.
Starting anew is hard,
but you establish a new life, take a wife, and start a family.
Life begins to be bearable again.
Your new Boss is an intimidating figure.........
a sort of beneficent dictator.
He comes to you with a challenge:
"I've been watching you very closely. I like what I see.
I have a difficult job I want you to tackle."
When he outlines the job he wants you to do, you are overwhelmed.
"Boss, that job requires someone with great speaking skills.
You know I have a tendency to stammer when I'm under stress!
And you need a great leader of men.
If you want to be successful, surely another man can do this job better!"
But The Boss won't be dissuaded.
"No, you're my guy. Believe me, no one can do this job but you.
I'll provide whatever you need to accomplish the task."
You've seen the boss in action.
His powers to get things done are amazing.
It's hard to turn him down......He can be VERY persuasive!
You reluctantly agree to take on this huge job.
It means you must uproot your loved ones from
their comfortable surroundings and extended family.
You pack them and your modest belongings and set out on your goal.
Mid-way in your journey,
while you and your family are asleep in temporary quarters,
The Boss sneaks in and tries to murder you!
Your wife, a very quick thinker,
does something odd that mollifies The Big Guy,
and he departs before he succeeds in taking your life.
You continue on your mission,
still dedicated to the task and your Boss!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Are you familiar with this story? I wish more people were.
That too few people know it has troubled me for some time.
I'd like to do my part to fix that problem.
I'll be here with more on this story and share more thoughts with you later.
Your Mother literally feared for your life, and rather than lose you,
chose an unorthodox method of putting you up for adoption.
Her method worked.
You were raised in opulence.
Your adoptive parents truly loved you as their own.
But you had questions about your heritage,
and finding answers put you in conflict with your upbringing.
When you are old enough to strike out on your own, you leave the life of wealth and comfort behind you.
Starting anew is hard,
but you establish a new life, take a wife, and start a family.
Life begins to be bearable again.
Your new Boss is an intimidating figure.........
a sort of beneficent dictator.
He comes to you with a challenge:
"I've been watching you very closely. I like what I see.
I have a difficult job I want you to tackle."
When he outlines the job he wants you to do, you are overwhelmed.
"Boss, that job requires someone with great speaking skills.
You know I have a tendency to stammer when I'm under stress!
And you need a great leader of men.
If you want to be successful, surely another man can do this job better!"
But The Boss won't be dissuaded.
"No, you're my guy. Believe me, no one can do this job but you.
I'll provide whatever you need to accomplish the task."
You've seen the boss in action.
His powers to get things done are amazing.
It's hard to turn him down......He can be VERY persuasive!
You reluctantly agree to take on this huge job.
It means you must uproot your loved ones from
their comfortable surroundings and extended family.
You pack them and your modest belongings and set out on your goal.
Mid-way in your journey,
while you and your family are asleep in temporary quarters,
The Boss sneaks in and tries to murder you!
Your wife, a very quick thinker,
does something odd that mollifies The Big Guy,
and he departs before he succeeds in taking your life.
You continue on your mission,
still dedicated to the task and your Boss!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Are you familiar with this story? I wish more people were.
That too few people know it has troubled me for some time.
I'd like to do my part to fix that problem.
I'll be here with more on this story and share more thoughts with you later.
01 January 2006
2006 A.D., Uhhhhh A.C.E., Or Whatever
I sure want to wish a Happy 2006 to everyone that drops in to "Pitchpull"!
But someone help me, please.......
I know I'm no longer supposed to use the term A.D.,
meaning "Anno Domini", or "The year of our Lord."
I guess the politically correct term now is A.C.E., or "After the common Era."
Please, what happened to begin this "Common Era?"
Did something "common" happen,
or was it actually something pretty UNcommon?
Must have been something pretty special, huh?
Fill me in!
But someone help me, please.......
I know I'm no longer supposed to use the term A.D.,
meaning "Anno Domini", or "The year of our Lord."
I guess the politically correct term now is A.C.E., or "After the common Era."
Please, what happened to begin this "Common Era?"
Did something "common" happen,
or was it actually something pretty UNcommon?
Must have been something pretty special, huh?
Fill me in!
31 December 2005
A New Year's Eve Anniversary
I met Sara Jean 25 years ago today.
We've lived happily ever after.
NOT!
Our relationship is never dull. I've discussed the fact that she was raised in the city and is uncomfortable in the dark, where I was raised with a pig farm outside my 4th Grade classroom and I absolutely hate the fact that ambient light keeps me from seeing the stars I saw as a youngster.
We argue a lot. We always make up. Making up can be fun.
In the first "Rocky" movie, when asked about his relationship with Adrienne, Rocky says "Gaps........she fills gaps in my life."
Sara Jean is my polar opposite.
I'm pretty laid back- she is a ball of energy.
I can be an insensitive jerk- she is expert at coming along behind me putting out fires.
She is a "clean freak". I...........well, let's just say I'm not.
The Greybeard family has spent the last week in our paradise, partly in celebration of this day. Unfortunately, Big Bubba has to be back to work at Oh-Dark-Thirty tomorrow morning, so we are packing the car and will be on the road the biggest part of our anniversary, (But I bought her the bling-bling yesterday, and she is pleased.)
She brings joy to my life in countless ways.
What would I do without her?
I don't want to think about it.
Happy Anniversary Baby.......
You are the solid foundation on which I depend.
Thank you for putting up with my quirks for these 25 years.
Ready for the next 25?
We've lived happily ever after.
NOT!
Our relationship is never dull. I've discussed the fact that she was raised in the city and is uncomfortable in the dark, where I was raised with a pig farm outside my 4th Grade classroom and I absolutely hate the fact that ambient light keeps me from seeing the stars I saw as a youngster.
We argue a lot. We always make up. Making up can be fun.
In the first "Rocky" movie, when asked about his relationship with Adrienne, Rocky says "Gaps........she fills gaps in my life."
Sara Jean is my polar opposite.
I'm pretty laid back- she is a ball of energy.
I can be an insensitive jerk- she is expert at coming along behind me putting out fires.
She is a "clean freak". I...........well, let's just say I'm not.
The Greybeard family has spent the last week in our paradise, partly in celebration of this day. Unfortunately, Big Bubba has to be back to work at Oh-Dark-Thirty tomorrow morning, so we are packing the car and will be on the road the biggest part of our anniversary, (But I bought her the bling-bling yesterday, and she is pleased.)
She brings joy to my life in countless ways.
What would I do without her?
I don't want to think about it.
Happy Anniversary Baby.......
You are the solid foundation on which I depend.
Thank you for putting up with my quirks for these 25 years.
Ready for the next 25?
.38 Special Trivia
Here's the answer to my trivia question:
Our Hueys had ceramic/composite armored seats. These seats weighed 150 pounds each, and protected pilot and copilot from .30 calibre rifle fire approaching from the rear, beneath, and sides of the aircraft.
I also wore what was called a "ballistic" helmet, which was supposed to provide some protection for my noggin.
But we were unprotected from anything fired at us from the front or from above.
Before climbing into the aircraft, I would grab my gun belt and shift it 90 degrees, so the .38 was strategically located to provide a little protection for what I considered a pretty important area at the front of my body!
I never heard of an incident where the pistol actually helped deflect a bullet, therefore insuring a pilot was able to later father a family......but to me, feeling the weight of the revolver there during the flight was reassuring.
I was glad to take comfort anywhere I could find it!
Our Hueys had ceramic/composite armored seats. These seats weighed 150 pounds each, and protected pilot and copilot from .30 calibre rifle fire approaching from the rear, beneath, and sides of the aircraft.
I also wore what was called a "ballistic" helmet, which was supposed to provide some protection for my noggin.
But we were unprotected from anything fired at us from the front or from above.
Before climbing into the aircraft, I would grab my gun belt and shift it 90 degrees, so the .38 was strategically located to provide a little protection for what I considered a pretty important area at the front of my body!
I never heard of an incident where the pistol actually helped deflect a bullet, therefore insuring a pilot was able to later father a family......but to me, feeling the weight of the revolver there during the flight was reassuring.
I was glad to take comfort anywhere I could find it!
28 December 2005
The Handgun Surprise
I first put my hands on the Army's M1911 .45 Cal. Automatic while being trained as a "Light Weapons Infantryman (Mos 11B), at Ft. Jackson, South Carolina.
We didn't fire it for record, so my introduction to the piece was a lotta fun.
We fired 45's again in O.C.S..
I liked the .45. I found I could shoot it pretty accurately. I loved the fact that the round moved downrange slowly enough that I could see it in flight.
In O.C.S. we learned a little history of the weapon. In the Philippines, American Officers armed with .38's found that weapon would not stop the charge of Moro warriors intoxicated with narcotics. (.30 caliber rifles sometimes had minimal effect too.)
A new, more powerful sidearm was needed.
John Browning came to the rescue. The .45 had nearly twice the stopping power of the .38, and the weapon had an 8 round capacity... 1 in the chamber, 7 in the magazine.
Hit a man anywhere with the .45, and he was mighty sorry he had met your acquaintance!
You can imagine my surprise when I lined up to receive my sidearm in Viet Nam and they handed me a .38 Special... wimpy piece of soiled Kleenex!
But when I questioned the wisdom of issuing us .38's, the answer made sense:
If you are shot down and break an arm in the ensuing crash, you can still fire, reload, and fire again one-armed if you are shooting the .38 revolver.
Reloading and chambering the first round in the .45 with one arm could prove difficult.
It made sense.
I learned to deal with the idea.
Now, Sports fans, your intermittent trivia question:
(No Army Aviators are allowed to participate, obviously)...
When I climbed into my Charley Model Huey with the Western belt/holster style .38, what did I physically do with the pistol?
We didn't fire it for record, so my introduction to the piece was a lotta fun.
We fired 45's again in O.C.S..
I liked the .45. I found I could shoot it pretty accurately. I loved the fact that the round moved downrange slowly enough that I could see it in flight.
In O.C.S. we learned a little history of the weapon. In the Philippines, American Officers armed with .38's found that weapon would not stop the charge of Moro warriors intoxicated with narcotics. (.30 caliber rifles sometimes had minimal effect too.)
A new, more powerful sidearm was needed.
John Browning came to the rescue. The .45 had nearly twice the stopping power of the .38, and the weapon had an 8 round capacity... 1 in the chamber, 7 in the magazine.
Hit a man anywhere with the .45, and he was mighty sorry he had met your acquaintance!
You can imagine my surprise when I lined up to receive my sidearm in Viet Nam and they handed me a .38 Special... wimpy piece of soiled Kleenex!
But when I questioned the wisdom of issuing us .38's, the answer made sense:
If you are shot down and break an arm in the ensuing crash, you can still fire, reload, and fire again one-armed if you are shooting the .38 revolver.
Reloading and chambering the first round in the .45 with one arm could prove difficult.
It made sense.
I learned to deal with the idea.
Now, Sports fans, your intermittent trivia question:
(No Army Aviators are allowed to participate, obviously)...
When I climbed into my Charley Model Huey with the Western belt/holster style .38, what did I physically do with the pistol?
26 December 2005
Young, Dumb, and full of......Hope.
Not the best photograph, I know. But what a bunch of happy, idealistic guys!
(Click to enlarge.)
Your humble host, and frequent commenter "Ole Prairie Dog" are both in that picture.
Look closely and you can see some of the Officers are wearing wings on their caps, an indication they had soloed the aircraft we were using for training, the Hughes TH-55 "Mattel Messerschmidt".
(Photo lifted from the website of CW2 James N. Post. Thanks James!)
The fact that many in the photo are not yet wearing wings indicates it was taken early in our training at Ft. Wolters, TX., probably February of 1968.
My research indicates about 40,000 helicopter pilots served in Viet Nam.
2,202 lost their lives there........that number is just the pilots.......I don't have solid numbers for crewmembers, but I've seen a figure of 1103 killed in the UH-1 (Huey) alone.
Most of the faces you see were in their early 20's.
Some had wives.
Some had wives and kids.
I had just turned 21. We all knew our chances of going to Viet Nam upon completion of Flight School was about 99.9%. Some of our classmates had already had a tour in RVN in another capacity........one of our mates was a Green Beret! Those guys had a clue about what their future would hold.......the rest of us were paying attention to our training, enjoying the camaraderie, and doing what young, healthy, focused young men normally did.
Most of us were anxious about the war, but I cannot remember anyone being depressed about it. We simply tried to pack as much life as possible into our remaining months Stateside.
How odd to look back at this photo and realize at this time I was younger than my son, who is now 22 and still in school.
Just a year after this grouping, the majority of these men would have a third of their tour in Viet Nam completed.
One would be dead.
We all are a product of everything that has gone before in our lives.
Certainly my life has been a product of the training I received in '68.
What course would my life have taken if I had not learned to hover?
We loaded tremendous responsibility on our young people then.
We still do.
Thank God there are still men and women willing to shoulder that burden......
We must always keep them in our thoughts and prayers.
If you have any interest, there is a wealth of information about helicopters and the crews that flew them at the
Viet Nam Helicopter Pilots Association website:
http://www.vhpa.org
This is the patch designating my unit, B Company, 123rd Aviation Battalion:
23 December 2005
23 December Open Forum
22 December 2005
Changing Behavior, Kicking and Screaming
Back pain......almost incapacitating.
Dad was always having back trouble.
One vivid memory is of my Dad on his back on the hardwood floor, Mom standing over him, leaning on his knees as he drew his knees closer to his chest, trying to straighten his vertebra.
Most of the time he got some relief from her efforts.
In 1978 my parents were talking about buying a new mattress.......
Dad was still having back problems, and they thought a new mattress might help him.
I suggested they get a waterbed. They were non-plussed.
Although I didn't own one myself, I had enjoyed sleeping on them and thought the new "fully baffled" waterbeds with their firmer consistency and heater to keep Dad's back warm might help his troubles.
Mom and Dad were suspicious.
We went shopping to see what was available......what they looked like, and what they would cost.
The folks saw they pretty much looked like other beds and weren't prohibitively expensive.
We saw one that I kinda liked myself, so I made the deal-clinching offer:
Buy this bed and try it for a while.
If you decide you hate it, I'll pay for it and use it myself.
The company delivered and set it up the next day.
Two days later my Mom had her first pacemaker installed. When I called to inquire how she was doing post-surgery, she said, "You can just forget about taking this bed!"
Even with the new pacemaker, she was sleeping comfortably.
And it did help Dad's back trouble, too.
Chalk it up to another good recommendation from Greybeard.
Fast forward to about 1998........I'd been online for a few years, talking to Mom and Dad about the wonders and conveniences afforded by computers.
Each time I would talk about getting them a machine they would roll their eyes and smile, shaking their heads......
Too expensive.
Too complicated.
They probably wouldn't be able to figure it out.
I had seen the ads for something called WebTV.
I got online and checked them out. WebTV provided access to the internet, email, and was user friendly to the extreme. I suggested Mom and Dad should get WebTV.
Again, they used delaying tactics on me.
With Dad alongside, I stopped by the local Circuit City and found a WebTV in the store, connected to the internet. There in the store, I entered the address of the website for my personal business. When the site came up, I showed Dad the picture of Sara Jean and I standing next to an R22 I had landed in our back yard. He was amazed. Right here in his home town in the local Circuit City, I had dialed up a picture of his daughter-in-law and his son.
We bought the system and took it home.
Simple to hook up, we turned it on and it did all the work......
found it's own service provider and walked us through the sign-up procedure.
The first thing we did was send out emails to all our relatives announcing Mom and Dad's online "birth".
Next morning, the "you've got mail" red light was blinking on the face of the machine.
Several cousins had written to applaud my parents, and comment that they wished their parents were so open minded!
At that moment, I pretty much knew that I could also forget ever having to worry about disposing of the WebTV.
We all fear change to a degree.
We all have Luddites among our family and friends.
Some still think computers are too complicated for older, "set-in-their-ways" minds.
But I have family I would love to be able to fire off an email to, or send a link to share something I know would bring a smile.
With one much loved Aunt and Uncle, I've even tried the old reliable trick......offering to buy the machine for them.....no dice.
If only they knew what they are missing......Email, Blogs, Google Earth, The Library of Congress at their fingertips.......
Kicking and screaming.........how to get them to give it a try?
I'm out of ideas.
Got a good suggestion?
I'll take all the help I can get.
Dad was always having back trouble.
One vivid memory is of my Dad on his back on the hardwood floor, Mom standing over him, leaning on his knees as he drew his knees closer to his chest, trying to straighten his vertebra.
Most of the time he got some relief from her efforts.
In 1978 my parents were talking about buying a new mattress.......
Dad was still having back problems, and they thought a new mattress might help him.
I suggested they get a waterbed. They were non-plussed.
Although I didn't own one myself, I had enjoyed sleeping on them and thought the new "fully baffled" waterbeds with their firmer consistency and heater to keep Dad's back warm might help his troubles.
Mom and Dad were suspicious.
We went shopping to see what was available......what they looked like, and what they would cost.
The folks saw they pretty much looked like other beds and weren't prohibitively expensive.
We saw one that I kinda liked myself, so I made the deal-clinching offer:
Buy this bed and try it for a while.
If you decide you hate it, I'll pay for it and use it myself.
The company delivered and set it up the next day.
Two days later my Mom had her first pacemaker installed. When I called to inquire how she was doing post-surgery, she said, "You can just forget about taking this bed!"
Even with the new pacemaker, she was sleeping comfortably.
And it did help Dad's back trouble, too.
Chalk it up to another good recommendation from Greybeard.
Fast forward to about 1998........I'd been online for a few years, talking to Mom and Dad about the wonders and conveniences afforded by computers.
Each time I would talk about getting them a machine they would roll their eyes and smile, shaking their heads......
Too expensive.
Too complicated.
They probably wouldn't be able to figure it out.
I had seen the ads for something called WebTV.
I got online and checked them out. WebTV provided access to the internet, email, and was user friendly to the extreme. I suggested Mom and Dad should get WebTV.
Again, they used delaying tactics on me.
With Dad alongside, I stopped by the local Circuit City and found a WebTV in the store, connected to the internet. There in the store, I entered the address of the website for my personal business. When the site came up, I showed Dad the picture of Sara Jean and I standing next to an R22 I had landed in our back yard. He was amazed. Right here in his home town in the local Circuit City, I had dialed up a picture of his daughter-in-law and his son.
We bought the system and took it home.
Simple to hook up, we turned it on and it did all the work......
found it's own service provider and walked us through the sign-up procedure.
The first thing we did was send out emails to all our relatives announcing Mom and Dad's online "birth".
Next morning, the "you've got mail" red light was blinking on the face of the machine.
Several cousins had written to applaud my parents, and comment that they wished their parents were so open minded!
At that moment, I pretty much knew that I could also forget ever having to worry about disposing of the WebTV.
We all fear change to a degree.
We all have Luddites among our family and friends.
Some still think computers are too complicated for older, "set-in-their-ways" minds.
But I have family I would love to be able to fire off an email to, or send a link to share something I know would bring a smile.
With one much loved Aunt and Uncle, I've even tried the old reliable trick......offering to buy the machine for them.....no dice.
If only they knew what they are missing......Email, Blogs, Google Earth, The Library of Congress at their fingertips.......
Kicking and screaming.........how to get them to give it a try?
I'm out of ideas.
Got a good suggestion?
I'll take all the help I can get.
20 December 2005
George Marquardt
It was the summer of 1977, about 1 A.M..
Recently divorced, I was still experimenting with medicating myself with alcohol.
Vic... fellow Viet Nam Vet... fellow Army Reserve helicopter pilot, and I had reached that point where conversation was no longer necessary. We sat on his deck overlooking his back yard listening to light rock music playing quietly, absorbing the warmth of the night as the stars provided just enough light to differentiate trees from lawn.
What was that?
Movement back there... a man slid from between the trees and walked directly toward us... a fairly big man.
But non threatening. Good thing too... we were in no shape to defend ourselves if someone was gonna be aggressive.
He came up the stairs and said, "You Vic?"
Vic extended his hand and said "That would be me."
"I'm George Marquardt. Sis said I should come and introduce myself to you."
Vic's demeanor changed instantly.
This was no ordinary George.
George Marquardt was also a pilot.
On August 6th, 1945, he Commanded "Necessary Evil",
a B-29 flying in loose formation with another B-29,
"The Enola Gay."
Marquardt's mission was to take photographs of Hiroshima after an experimental weapon was dropped from the Enola Gay.
Three days later, Marquardt was piloting the Enola Gay as an advance weather ship, and again to take pictures of the results of another experimental bomb drop, this time over Nagasaki.
To say I was stunned would be serious understatement. I was mellowed by alcohol and unable to comprehend that this shadow, on the suggestion of his sister, Vic's neighbor, had seen us on the deck and had gone out of his way to come over and meet us.
We made polite chatter for a few minutes, and he was gone.
I googled his name and found
George was the sort of guy you got comfortable with in short order. I wish there had been time to get to know him better.
It's an experience I'll never forget... a brush with history.
19 December 2005
18 December 2005
Gee Whiz Stuff
I'm a sucker for aircraft and sunrise/sunset pictures.
What you see here folks, is an F-22 Raptor breastfeeding from a KC-10 tanker.
I hope you know something about the F-22.
If you don't.....time to Google!
These fighters are now being delivered to Air Force line units.....and they are SPECIAL!
Another story is in order here......
A personal acquaintance worked in weapons procurement for the Air Force. He was involved in the testing of the F-117 Nighthawk, specifically the Radar signature of the aircraft. They were looking at the Radar when suddenly the aircraft's Radar signature doubled. When they looked downrange at the aircraft through binoculars, a sparrow had landed on the wing.
He confided that the B-2 Bomber's Radar signature was an ORDER OF MAGNITUDE less than the F-117, even though the aircraft is considerably larger than the F-117! Hard to believe.
We can only imagine how difficult it is to see the VERY stealthy F-22 on Radar.
Add to this the fact that the F-22 uses "vectored thrust" to make it extraordinarily maneuverable, and that it can achieve supersonic speeds without the use of afterburners, and you have unquestionably the most fearsome fighter in the world.
I stole the picture from
If you are interested in things military, you MUST be reading their stuff.
Newly added to my blogroll!
16 December 2005
Some Helicopter Trivia
The helicopter you see here was produced by a company not normally associated with helicopters.
A machine of this type was the first helicopter to land at Pike's Peak.
In September of 1955, it landed and took off at an elevation above 14,000' with three people aboard.
Although the Army was a possible customer, a few civilian machines were also sold.
Can you name the manufacturer without cheating?
====================================
ANSWER:
It's a Cessna!
The U.S. Army still owns one of these machines and used to display it in their Aviation Museum at Ft. Rucker, Alabama.
I went back to Ft. Rucker two years ago and toured the New/Improved Museum, and the Cessna CH-1 was nowhere to be seen.
I suspect it is stored somewhere, waiting for more viewing space to be opened there.
There is a comprehensive article about early helicopter history and the CH-1 in particular
I was surprised to find this machine was the first helicopter to be certified for instrument flight.
It also held several speed and altitude records for a while.
For years, I had heard that Clyde Cessna's son had been killed in one of these birds, and that was part of the reason the program was cancelled.
The article mentions nothing about the younger Mr. Cessna.
14 December 2005
My Past.....Blasts!
Today I received an email from an old friend, Rachel.
The subject line said,
"Finally Online!"
This from a great lady I dated in the early 70's and have stayed intermittently in contact with since.
Our communications over the last 30 years have been mostly from my receiving a canned newsletter from her, including a nice personal note from Rachel bringing me up to speed on things I would have an interest in.
She is a great gal, talented, diverse, and active. She married a handy guy that has taken her down a path I envy in many ways.......(they have built their own home more than once.)
I got the normal newsletter from Rachel last year, and sat down to respond to it. Somewhere along the line I got interrupted, and it was weeks before I found the aborted letter in a pile of "gotta get to later" stuff. By that time, motivation and time had eluded me. It never got sent.
Getting the email from her today was so oddly wonderful.
Now there will be no excuse for not staying in touch with her family. Rachel and her husband have been active in their communities. They have raised two wonderful girls that are also doing things to help better the lives of those around them. Now I can more easily get details of their lives.
Now my question:
What percentage of the population remains unconnected?
How many are still out there in the proverbial "Stone Age?"
And how many of those are immovable? (I suspect those that are still unplugged will be hard to convert.)
At another date, I'll tell you the story of bringing my Mom and Dad online, kicking and screaming!
The subject line said,
"Finally Online!"
This from a great lady I dated in the early 70's and have stayed intermittently in contact with since.
Our communications over the last 30 years have been mostly from my receiving a canned newsletter from her, including a nice personal note from Rachel bringing me up to speed on things I would have an interest in.
She is a great gal, talented, diverse, and active. She married a handy guy that has taken her down a path I envy in many ways.......(they have built their own home more than once.)
I got the normal newsletter from Rachel last year, and sat down to respond to it. Somewhere along the line I got interrupted, and it was weeks before I found the aborted letter in a pile of "gotta get to later" stuff. By that time, motivation and time had eluded me. It never got sent.
Getting the email from her today was so oddly wonderful.
Now there will be no excuse for not staying in touch with her family. Rachel and her husband have been active in their communities. They have raised two wonderful girls that are also doing things to help better the lives of those around them. Now I can more easily get details of their lives.
Now my question:
What percentage of the population remains unconnected?
How many are still out there in the proverbial "Stone Age?"
And how many of those are immovable? (I suspect those that are still unplugged will be hard to convert.)
At another date, I'll tell you the story of bringing my Mom and Dad online, kicking and screaming!
12 December 2005
Deming to San Antonio
Being able to see where you are going is important. Running into a huge chunk of Granite will ruin your day.
Once you are clear of the L.A. Basin, most of the time, visibility is unlimited until you get to El Paso.
Most fuel stops have a way to get weather information. More and more of them are installing computer weather systems, which give you a ton of information. They're wonderful.
And then there is The Weather Channel. Thank God for it!
Generally, the last thing I do before going to bed while on a ferry flight is to check The Weather Channel to see what they're forecasting the next day.
You'll recall they said it was gonna be 16 degrees Fahrenheit on Tuesday morning.
Ouch.
New helicopters leave the factory with 50 weight mineral oil in their belly.
50 weight mineral oil literally assumes the consistency of molasses at 16 degrees.
This thick oil puts terrific strain on the starter, making it difficult to spin the engine quickly enough to start it. If the engine does start, the oil is so thick it does not readily move through the lubrication system to do it's job on the bearing surfaces.
I called the owner's room......."have you seen the forecast?"
"No".
"They're saying 16 degrees in the morning!"
"Well, whatd'ya think?"
"I think we need to check on pre-heating the thing before we start it."
And he agreed.
At breakfast we called the airport.........No preheater available.
I assumed the owner had taken my hint not to start the helicopter under these circumstances. The forecast high for the day was 55, so my idea was to simply wait for the sun to warm the air.......the helicopter was painted a dark color, and the engine compartment would warm fairly rapidly under the direct rays of the sun.
The owner finished his breakfast and said, "I'll go ahead to the airport and preflight, and I want to do some reading in the gps manuals."
Good for him......good attitude.
I finished my breakfast, went back and cleared out of the room. Since we were obviously gonna be a while waiting for the ambient temperature to rise, I didn't bother the hotel folks about a ride to the airport..........it was a 20 minute walk, and I needed the exercise.
Imagine my surprise, when I hear the sound of a Robinson R44 running as I approach the terminal!
As I get into the aircraft he proudly says, "It took four attempts, but it finally started!"
Okay pal........it's your machine.......yours to abuse if you want.
Cabin heaters in Robinson helicopters are wonderful. It was already toasty when I got in.
After a good warmup, we were Eastbound again. I wanted to fly a short leg to the West Texas airport in El Paso and refuel there prior to taking off on a fairly long leg to Ft. Stockton, TX..
On previous trips I had noticed what appeared to be lava flows Northwest of El Paso. Small hills in this area have the tell-tale "dished out" look of a volcano that has blown it's stack. I modified our course to show my co-pilot the lava, then flew over "Kilbourne Hole" at coordinates:
31 58 10.35N 106 57 51.94W
A good article about Kilbourne Hole
Here
Once you are clear of the L.A. Basin, most of the time, visibility is unlimited until you get to El Paso.
Most fuel stops have a way to get weather information. More and more of them are installing computer weather systems, which give you a ton of information. They're wonderful.
And then there is The Weather Channel. Thank God for it!
Generally, the last thing I do before going to bed while on a ferry flight is to check The Weather Channel to see what they're forecasting the next day.
You'll recall they said it was gonna be 16 degrees Fahrenheit on Tuesday morning.
Ouch.
New helicopters leave the factory with 50 weight mineral oil in their belly.
50 weight mineral oil literally assumes the consistency of molasses at 16 degrees.
This thick oil puts terrific strain on the starter, making it difficult to spin the engine quickly enough to start it. If the engine does start, the oil is so thick it does not readily move through the lubrication system to do it's job on the bearing surfaces.
I called the owner's room......."have you seen the forecast?"
"No".
"They're saying 16 degrees in the morning!"
"Well, whatd'ya think?"
"I think we need to check on pre-heating the thing before we start it."
And he agreed.
At breakfast we called the airport.........No preheater available.
I assumed the owner had taken my hint not to start the helicopter under these circumstances. The forecast high for the day was 55, so my idea was to simply wait for the sun to warm the air.......the helicopter was painted a dark color, and the engine compartment would warm fairly rapidly under the direct rays of the sun.
The owner finished his breakfast and said, "I'll go ahead to the airport and preflight, and I want to do some reading in the gps manuals."
Good for him......good attitude.
I finished my breakfast, went back and cleared out of the room. Since we were obviously gonna be a while waiting for the ambient temperature to rise, I didn't bother the hotel folks about a ride to the airport..........it was a 20 minute walk, and I needed the exercise.
Imagine my surprise, when I hear the sound of a Robinson R44 running as I approach the terminal!
As I get into the aircraft he proudly says, "It took four attempts, but it finally started!"
Okay pal........it's your machine.......yours to abuse if you want.
Cabin heaters in Robinson helicopters are wonderful. It was already toasty when I got in.
After a good warmup, we were Eastbound again. I wanted to fly a short leg to the West Texas airport in El Paso and refuel there prior to taking off on a fairly long leg to Ft. Stockton, TX..
On previous trips I had noticed what appeared to be lava flows Northwest of El Paso. Small hills in this area have the tell-tale "dished out" look of a volcano that has blown it's stack. I modified our course to show my co-pilot the lava, then flew over "Kilbourne Hole" at coordinates:
31 58 10.35N 106 57 51.94W
A good article about Kilbourne Hole
Kilbourne Hole is 300 feet deep. We flew beneath the rim of the crater and circled around in the hole.
You can see some of the lava flow I mentioned just Northwest of Kilbourne.
We talked with El Paso approach and landed at West Texas airport after a 45 minute flight. Bathroom break and full of fuel, we were off again for Ft. Stockton.
If I am continuing East from El Paso I have to contend with the "Guadelupe Peak". Our course from El Paso this time took us Southwest, so we looked at Guadalupe from a distance, but if you have to fly Eastbound, you get "up close and personal" with this big rock. It is imposing, to say the least. Coordinates:
31 53 03.63N 104 51 29.37W
Go to the 3D feature of Google Earth and take a good look at Ms. Guadelupe....
she can get your "pucker factor" goin'!
West Texas is BIG........and there aren't many folks out there! When we landed at Ft. Stockton for fuel I realized I had made a stupid mistake......we hadn't filed a flight plan. There are places along that route you don't want to crash.....you won't be found for years! If I make the trip in that direction again, I'll be talking with my Flight Service Station specialist!
Fuel at Ft. Stockton was "self serve". I actually like these systems. Similar to buying auto fuel, you simply slide your credit card and pump your own fuel. They are open 24 hours a day, so you can get fuel even when airport personnel are gone home.
The flight from Ft. Stockton to San Antonio was beautiful......hills and valleys, many private airfields alongside gorgeous ranch houses.
We landed at San Antonio having flown 6.1 hours from Deming.
We were both ready to be out of the helicopter.
Flying cross country emphasizes how big our country truly is. I have driven this same route and it is a boring drive.......it seems you are looking at the same mountain for an entire day. The speed of the helicopter and the altitude you can safely fly are nearly perfect.....the mountains pass quickly enough to stay entertained, and at our altitude we easily saw Deer, Jackrabbits, and Javelina.
I recommend the trip. If you'd like to do it with me, contact me via email and I'll let ya know where to send the $400,000 check!
10 December 2005
Choosing an Overnight Stop
Traveling in a private aircraft is wonderful until you can no longer use the aircraft. Once you land, you have several options. Having made this journey several times, I've learned which airports are most convenient for transient pilots.
Deming New Mexico is a great place to stop for several reasons. It's an uncontrolled airfield, meaning there is no operating control tower there. Helicopter pilots are rebels at heart.....most of us don't much like being told what to do. I'll take an uncontrolled airfield over one with a tower every time, all other things being equal.
Many airports are located some distance from the town they serve. This is great for noise abatement and keeping airplanes from running into people's homes. It's not so great if you land after dark when the airport administration has shut down and gone home for dinner. Sure, there is generally a pay phone handy, with important phone numbers listed there: Night fueling, Motels, and Airport manager.
It's nice to find an airport where you can land, shut the machine down, grab your bag, and walk across the street to a motel/restaurant.
I love to stop at Deming because the manager at the "Grand Hotel" caters to pilots. He's an Iranian transplant, and quite a businessman. Call from the airport anytime, day or night, and they will send a van to pick you up. The hotel is a converted Ramada Inn from years ago.........nothin' really special, but all we are looking for is a clean room, a bed, a shower, and a good place to eat within walking distance. The Grand has a good restaurant in the hotel. They serve a great Mexican dinner and a pretty good breakfast.
I was pleased to find that the owner, Mr. Khanbabian, has seen fit to install a Wifi system at the Grand. More and more, I'll be pickin' my layover choices by whether or not a fast internet connection is available.
The answer to my question about the ramp at the Deming airport:
I spot four Apache Attack helicopters and five OH-58 Kiowa Scout helicopters there.
They may have flown in from Fort Bliss, shut down, and called Mr. Khanbabian to get transportation for a great lunch!
Tomorrow we'll finish our trip to San Antonio.
Deming New Mexico is a great place to stop for several reasons. It's an uncontrolled airfield, meaning there is no operating control tower there. Helicopter pilots are rebels at heart.....most of us don't much like being told what to do. I'll take an uncontrolled airfield over one with a tower every time, all other things being equal.
Many airports are located some distance from the town they serve. This is great for noise abatement and keeping airplanes from running into people's homes. It's not so great if you land after dark when the airport administration has shut down and gone home for dinner. Sure, there is generally a pay phone handy, with important phone numbers listed there: Night fueling, Motels, and Airport manager.
It's nice to find an airport where you can land, shut the machine down, grab your bag, and walk across the street to a motel/restaurant.
I love to stop at Deming because the manager at the "Grand Hotel" caters to pilots. He's an Iranian transplant, and quite a businessman. Call from the airport anytime, day or night, and they will send a van to pick you up. The hotel is a converted Ramada Inn from years ago.........nothin' really special, but all we are looking for is a clean room, a bed, a shower, and a good place to eat within walking distance. The Grand has a good restaurant in the hotel. They serve a great Mexican dinner and a pretty good breakfast.
I was pleased to find that the owner, Mr. Khanbabian, has seen fit to install a Wifi system at the Grand. More and more, I'll be pickin' my layover choices by whether or not a fast internet connection is available.
The answer to my question about the ramp at the Deming airport:
I spot four Apache Attack helicopters and five OH-58 Kiowa Scout helicopters there.
They may have flown in from Fort Bliss, shut down, and called Mr. Khanbabian to get transportation for a great lunch!
Tomorrow we'll finish our trip to San Antonio.
Day One, Part II
After refueling at Blythe, CA., we resumed our trek Eastbound on I-10 into Arizona. One really odd thing here.......almost immediately upon crossing the Colorado river, you begin to see the big Saguaro cactuses. I have never seen one on the California side of the river, and it puzzles me. Weather has got to be almost exactly the same, so why do they only grow on the AZ side? They are magnificent......some growing to 20 or so feet in height.
Visibility in the desert is amazing. With the exception of smoggy Phoenix, Tucson, and El Paso, visibility is almost unlimited. You can easily see 100 miles in any direction.
We flew toward Phoenix, but upon reaching Buckeye, AZ., we take a shortcut Southeast to avoid the airspace around Phoenix International.
We put Casa Grande, AZ. in our sights. Before we get there, we overfly an airfield with a fairly long runway, out in the middle of nowhere, at
33 06 42.49N 112 16 10.06
Look closely at the parallel taxiway, and you'll see which organization thinks hot and high training is important.
A few minutes later, we fly over one of the biggest race tracks I have ever seen at coordinates:
32 56 37.48N 111 58 51.13W
This track, by my estimation, is 7-8 miles around, with banking like Talledega, Alabama. Several trips ago, my curiosity got the best of me and I flew low level past the sign out front.............Nissan.
In the image of the track, notice there are several test tracks inside the main track. You can also see the difference between the types of pictures Google Earth has available right now: Some images resolve with much more detail than others do. The fuzzy green looking terrain will not allow you to zoom in for as much detail as the more brown pictures will.
Continuing East, back toward I-10, my eye caught something strange at
32 57 16.60N 111 48 58.95W
Words and pictures don't do this feature justice. I estimate it is at least 400' deep......maybe more.
It's an old copper mine. The road you see cork-screwing it's way down into the funnel shape is big enough to accomodate a huge haul truck, so you get an idea how big this thing is.
My co-pilot, upon seeing it, simply said, "Oh My God!"
Now take a look at 32 30 33.33N 111 19 35.28W
This is Pima County airport, North of Tucson. I counted 20 Boeing 747's on the airfield. There are also DC-10's, L1011's, and various other huge airplanes there.
Will these airplanes ever fly again? I don't know. I assume the answer to that question depends on many factors, the economy being a big one.
We landed just South of Pima County at Marana, AZ for fuel. After taking off from Marana, we flew over the Military boneyard at Davis-Monthan AFB at
32 10 04.40N 110 51 17.76W.
These airplanes, for the most part, are being cut up for scrap, so the scenery changes every time I fly by. Several years ago, the distinctive tails of many B-52's were VERY apparent.
Those airplanes were nowhere to be seen this time.
Shortly after we left Tucson, it got dark. We plodded along right over I-10 to Deming, N.M., where after getting my co-pilot current to fly his helicopter at night, we landed and called "The Grand Hotel".
Just for grins, take a look at the refueling ramp at Deming airport:
32 15 53.56N 107 43 27.45W
What do you see there?
I'll tell ya what I see, and we'll continue our trip tomorrow.
Hope this isn't boring you to tears!
Visibility in the desert is amazing. With the exception of smoggy Phoenix, Tucson, and El Paso, visibility is almost unlimited. You can easily see 100 miles in any direction.
We flew toward Phoenix, but upon reaching Buckeye, AZ., we take a shortcut Southeast to avoid the airspace around Phoenix International.
We put Casa Grande, AZ. in our sights. Before we get there, we overfly an airfield with a fairly long runway, out in the middle of nowhere, at
33 06 42.49N 112 16 10.06
Look closely at the parallel taxiway, and you'll see which organization thinks hot and high training is important.
A few minutes later, we fly over one of the biggest race tracks I have ever seen at coordinates:
32 56 37.48N 111 58 51.13W
This track, by my estimation, is 7-8 miles around, with banking like Talledega, Alabama. Several trips ago, my curiosity got the best of me and I flew low level past the sign out front.............Nissan.
In the image of the track, notice there are several test tracks inside the main track. You can also see the difference between the types of pictures Google Earth has available right now: Some images resolve with much more detail than others do. The fuzzy green looking terrain will not allow you to zoom in for as much detail as the more brown pictures will.
Continuing East, back toward I-10, my eye caught something strange at
32 57 16.60N 111 48 58.95W
Words and pictures don't do this feature justice. I estimate it is at least 400' deep......maybe more.
It's an old copper mine. The road you see cork-screwing it's way down into the funnel shape is big enough to accomodate a huge haul truck, so you get an idea how big this thing is.
My co-pilot, upon seeing it, simply said, "Oh My God!"
Now take a look at 32 30 33.33N 111 19 35.28W
This is Pima County airport, North of Tucson. I counted 20 Boeing 747's on the airfield. There are also DC-10's, L1011's, and various other huge airplanes there.
Will these airplanes ever fly again? I don't know. I assume the answer to that question depends on many factors, the economy being a big one.
We landed just South of Pima County at Marana, AZ for fuel. After taking off from Marana, we flew over the Military boneyard at Davis-Monthan AFB at
32 10 04.40N 110 51 17.76W.
These airplanes, for the most part, are being cut up for scrap, so the scenery changes every time I fly by. Several years ago, the distinctive tails of many B-52's were VERY apparent.
Those airplanes were nowhere to be seen this time.
Shortly after we left Tucson, it got dark. We plodded along right over I-10 to Deming, N.M., where after getting my co-pilot current to fly his helicopter at night, we landed and called "The Grand Hotel".
Just for grins, take a look at the refueling ramp at Deming airport:
32 15 53.56N 107 43 27.45W
What do you see there?
I'll tell ya what I see, and we'll continue our trip tomorrow.
Hope this isn't boring you to tears!
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