What is Patriotism?

What is Patriotism?

There were many articles in the newspaper over the 4th of July weekend asking this question. Most of them had ordinary citizens answer the question and some sought answers from the presumed presidential candidates from the Rebloodlicans and Democryps (the federal government’s version of the Bloods and Cryps).

Amazingly enough to me, they all seemed to miss the whole point. Here were some common answers:

• Saying the pledge of allegiance
• Holding your hand over your heart during the national anthem
• Flying the national flag
• Sporting “support the troops” bumper stickers on your car
• Tying yellow ribbons on trees

These are all symbolic gestures that, if you don't do them, will invoke a judgment of non-patriotism from those that are uninitiated or uneducated about our history. Personally, these don't do shit for me. Nor do country western artists singing about kicking ass, pictures of eagles in front of flags, or statements like "you're either with us or you're a terrorist". Being a retired veteran, these just sound like Chickenhawks to me - those that talk a big line but stop short of actually enlisting and putting their own ass (instead of your sons' and daughters' asses) on the line.

The roots of American patriotism reach back to the 17th century and the Puritans. Puritans thought of themselves as God's chosen people, yet as students of the Bible, they knew that God also chastised his children when they strayed from the covenant. That gives American patriotism a particular character. This is why choosing not to do the symbolic gestures above will evoke judgment from many Americans – it’s confused with religion. That's why headlines like I read in the Fort Worth newspaper - "A Vote Against Bush is a Vote Against God" work on your conscience. There’s an element of guilt that runs through this kind of patriotism. On a side note, I wish to be free of the moralists, whom I have found to be some of the biggest offenders of their own rules. Prior to the Civil war, the contemporary notion of national patriotism did not exist. Loyalty was given to the state in the Jeffersonian tradition. Remember the concept of United States during the birth of our nation? It was not the Federal Nation of America or the Federal Government of America.

Patriotism should denote a positive and supportive attitude towards a nation, state, region, or fatherland and covers such attitudes as pride in its achievements and culture, the desire to preserve its character and the basis of the culture, and identification with other members of the nation, state or region.

To me, a patriot is a person who regards themselves as a defender of individual and state rights against interference by the federal government.

I consider myself a patriot, not because of my 20 years of service in the military but because I KNOW what patriotism is and I live it daily.

So what, you may ask, is patriotism in my view? It is going a step further than just showing that positive and supportive attitude. It’s calling the federal government on the carpet when they cause our United States to stray from the principles that we embraced when this nation was founded; principles such as insuring domestic tranquility or securing the blessing of liberty for ourselves (words from the US Constitution). We should also admonish the federal government when they run us into unbelievable national debt, get us into concocted wars, attack sovereign nations that did not attack us, lock down our borders, or condone torture. These are not the principles I embrace as an Idahoan, Mountain State citizen, or an American and they certainly elicit no pride in my country’s behavior.

No, I do not want to go live somewhere else. I love this country; enough that I want it to get back on course and become, once again, the shining example it has been in the past. It takes patriots to do that.

“Dissent is the highest form of patriotism.” – Although often misquoted as Jefferson, it’s still an awesome statement.

As I said last 4th of July, without the dissent of those treasonous traitors such as Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, John Hancock, George Washington, or Paul Revere….we’d all still be speaking the King’s English today.

And they said the Dixie Chicks weren’t patriots. Get real. I'm "not ready to make nice" either.

Hole Addendum

I received several comments from friends and family identifying enough new sub-categories that it is worth publishing an addendum.  I have added their new “holes” plus one of my own that was triggered during an email exchange with Christian Koppenhafer.  I will give credit where due.  Here you go…

 

Checkhole – 1) a person who uses a personal check to pay for stuff at the grocery store and engages in any and all other activities EXCEPT THE CHECK WRITING PROCESS while the clerk rings up the entire order.  Only then does the checkhole sloth into action to actually begin the check writing process starting with the question “now what’s the date, again?”

-        Steve Campbell

Registerhole – 1) a cashier who never speaks one word to you while taking your money because he/she is too busy either: a) talking to her fellow cashiers about her love life or b) on the phone. This person is unresponsive to "thank you" and "have a great day" and just stares at you with hand out once your order is totaled.

-        Kathi MacNaughton (my cousin)

 

 

Bluehole – 1) someone who is so freaking important that they must walk around in all places at all times with a Bluetooth headset so that they may be ready within milliseconds of the arrival of a critical communiqué, press alert, or other history-making bulletin, to answer their cell phone without the use of a wired headset or the wasted effort of holding said cell phone to their ear

-        my own addendum

 

Stagehole – 1) a drunk person who repeatedly asks the band to play music that is clearly outside the genre of the band and usually leans on the singer’s mic stand, thereby causing the mic to hit the singer in the teeth.  Upon hearing that the band doesn’t play that type of music, the stagehole will normally respond with either “you guys suck” or “you guys rock” depending on which binary state their pea brain was stuck in last.

-        Christian Koppenhafer

 

Author’s note:  Christian originally called this the Drunkhole but on further study, it becomes clear that a Drunkhole has many other modus operandi and is deserving of a class in itself…to be defined later due to the sizeable number of iterations. 

Christian – thanks brother, you have steered us down yet another rant hole!

HOLES!

Everyone is familiar with assholes in general. They’re everywhere. Some know they’re assholes and don’t care, while others are clueless. Recently, I have noticed that assholes are evolving. No longer capable of covering the vast skill set required of a major asshole, or being too lazy to stay proficient in all areas of a general asshole, many people have moved towards specialization. As a public service, I have begun to catalog these sub-categories and am presenting them for your continuing adult education. But first, let’s review the definition of the basic asshole…

ass-hole [as-hohl]

1. vulgar slang for anus
2. a thoroughly stupid, mean, irritating, or contemptible person
3. the most undesirable place in a particular area

Now, as promised, I present the new sub-categories, as I have observed them. Keep in mind that there are more and more specialties cropping up each day and I am merely scratching the surface. If you have data on a sub-species not identified here, please make use of the comment button at the bottom of this article.

Binhole – 1) a person that takes up more than their allotted space in the overhead compartment on a plane, 2) a person that uses only their allotted space but moves YOUR shit to another location because they like the space where YOUR bag already is, better than the space left when they showed up late

Expresshole – 1) a person that gets in the express line with more than 10 items

Cellhole – 1) people that talk loudly on their cell phones while in a confined space with others (i.e. a bus, a restaurant, a bathroom, a lobby, in line at Starbucks, etc.) as if you are going to be impressed with the story of their lives or how cool they are, 2) drivers who cannot talk on their cell phone without driving as if they had just consumed two six packs and a blunt

Gashole – 1) a person who (at the last moment) sneaks into the pump you have been patiently waiting from the opposite side, thereby screwing you out of both pumps

Carthole – 1) a person who leaves their shopping cart in the middle of the aisle then walks away to look at something, rendering the aisle impassable, 2) a person that leaves their shopping cart up against your car in the parking lot or leaves it in the way of you backing out, resulting in you having to move their cart they should have taken care of in the first place

Handihole – 1) people who are not REALLY handicapped but get handicap stickers for their cars to compensate for their laziness and/or sense of personal entitlement; this would include people with allergies (hey, hold your sleeve over your nose during the extra 20 foot walk), motorcycle riders with handicap stickers (if you can put on all the crap that constitutes today’s Harley costume and ride a bike, you can walk your fat ass across the parking lot), and fat people whose only handicap is having a double sized ass (yeah, I’m fat too but I KNOW it’s good for me to do some extra walking)

Litterhole – 1) someone who just tosses their crap on the ground, 2) someone who leaves their used Kleenex in a shopping cart for you to enjoy, 3) someone who puts out their trash in an unsecured manner allowing their crap to blow around the neighborhood, then doesn’t care

McHole – 1) someone who leaves their used food crap on the table at a fast food restaurant table instead of picking up their own mess, 2) someone who frivolously wastes their time on some other non-related activity while waiting in line at the drive through, then doesn’t have their shit (money) together when their order is ready, causing you to wait even longer while your incorrect food order gets cold, 3) teen-aged fast food employee that wants to argue with you about whether or not the lukewarm greasy fries they made 15 minutes ago are fresh enough for YOUR taste

Phonehole – 1) people who leave excruciatingly long phone messages, driving home the point that the REAL underlying message is about them, 2) people that program phone menus, covering every possible freaking scenario of the message-leaving process so that it is faster to buy a plane ticket and fly to your town to give you the message in person, for crying out loud (think corporate)!

Tryhole – 1) someone who tries on underwear at the store, then puts if back for you to discover while looking for YOUR new underwear, 2) the same person who then moves to the shoe department and tries on shoes with no socks before deciding they aren’t quite right

Smokehole – 1) a person that smokes right next to you with no regard or courtesy then, through body language, begs you to get into an argument about their right to smoke, 2) a person that tosses lit cigarette butts on the ground or out the window of their car, thereby doubling their value to society as a Litterhole as well

Well...there you have it - the new sub-categories that leap to the front. I am interested in any others you can come up with...just click on the "comment" link below. And remember, you are not defenseless against assholes...

Trip to Amsterdam, Netherlands

I recently went on a business trip to Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Facts:

For those who are foggy about the geography, the Netherlands is bordered to the north and west by the North Sea, by Belgium to the south, and by Germany to the east. The Netherlands is often referred to as "Holland" but this is formally incorrect since North and South Holland are only two of the country's 12 provinces. However, some Dutch people use the name Holland when referring to their country since it is in such widespread use.

The Netherlands is a densely populated, low lying country popularly known for its windmills, wooden shoes, Delftware, tulips, cheese, Gouda pottery, dikes, and storm surge barriers. While the official language is Dutch, over 70% of the population have a good working knowledge of English.

The Trip

I left Portland for Chicago at 7:30 AM. After a two-hour layover in Chicago, we boarded the Boeing 767, headed across the pond to Europe. I had a liter of wine hoping to induce some sleep. After watching a couple of shows on my iPhone I finally drifted off for a bit. Eight hours later we crossed the coastline and the aircraft banked on short final into Amsterdam’s Schipol Airport.

I had not been to the Netherlands since I was a young child and I was anxious to see if the things I remembered still looked the same. Some things looked identical to my childhood memories but there was a whole new look to the countryside and city – modern infrastructure. Highway systems, flood control systems, and tunnels all seemed to work rather well and got us around with little delay.

Our team stayed at the Dorint Hotel near the airport. This place had the feeling that you were in IKEA store on steroids. The rooms were very modern European; well designed with no wasted frivolities. Controls were very different than what we were used to but also very intuitive. The one interesting twist was that your room key card had to be left in a slot on the wall for the room’s electrical system to stay activated. Check out the heated mirror!

While driving to downtown Amsterdam, the first thing that hits you is the different look of the cars. While there are cars from some manufacturers we recognize (mostly German), there are very few models we recognize from America. The popular manufacturers are Mercedes, BMW, Volkswagen, and Citroen. Not once did I see a Japanese, American, or Korean car, nor did I see one single pick up truck.

Downtown was very much as I expected having been to Western Europe before. The shopping district is mixed in with everything else. The Dutch have shopping malls downtown but they are outfitted into very old buildings so they are not an eyesore on the landscape. You would never know from looking at the outside that there were modern shops within. One interesting discovery in the shopping district is that “Sissy Boy” is a clothing line.

Of course you can’t go to Amsterdam without visiting its famous Red Light District. De Wallen is the largest and best known of the red light districts in Amsterdam and is a popular tourist attraction. It’s located in the oldest part of Amsterdam and is crossed by several canals. Besides the obvious prostitution and sex businesses, the area is home to a good number of fine restaurants and clubs. And of course, there are the famous “coffee shops”. Walking by the entrances leave no doubt as to what is being smoked within. Contrary to popular belief, pot is not legal in the Netherlands, but it is condoned. The cops don’t hassle anyone who keeps their wits about them. Whatever your bent, it is an interesting place to watch life go by.

It was a very interesting week and I thoroughly enjoyed the Dutch people, their customs, and their landscape. After an 18-hour travel day (due to bucking the westerly winds and a three hour delay in Chicago for eight inches of snow) I arrived back home, tired but glad to be amongst my own stuff again. No matter what adventure you’ve been on, there’s no place like home.

Super Tuesday - How It Works

The Election: How It Works

Election Process: Super Tuesday

The History

• Historically, Super Tuesday falls on a Friday.
• As always, Super Tuesday will fall the day after Overhyped Build-Up Monday and the day before Giant Letdown Wednesday, which precedes Remember All That Stuff Last Tuesday? Thursday.
• Super Tuesday was upgraded to Super-Duper Tuesday in 2008 when a number of state governments decided to pay only 39 cents more.
• While originally only eight states were scheduled to hold their primaries on Super Tuesday, everyone agreed that didn't seem quite super enough, so they threw in an extra few shitty states.
• New Hampshire came under fire in 2004 for trying to sneak in a second primary amidst the Super Tuesday hoopla.

The Size

• This Super Tuesday is supposed to be the largest to date, with an astounding 57 states holding primaries and an additional 39 holding caucuses.
• Some critics see the primacy of the Super Tuesday primaries as a negative influence on the electoral process, saying that as Super Tuesday has grown, it has drawn disproportionate influence away from the only two relevant states in the nation, New Hampshire and Iowa.
• Because of the Writers Guild Strike, instead of the raucous ceremony that usually accompanies Super Tuesday, representatives from each state will calmly walk up to the podium, announce their state's victor, and then quietly sit back down.
• In Alaska Super Tuesday coincides with Hey, What About Alaska? Day.
• Hillary Clinton shocked the political world by calling first dibs and no backsies on all 24 Super Tuesday states, the first time this has been attempted since William Howard Taft tried it in 1912.
• The consolidating effect of Super Tuesday allows everyone to get the whole presidential election process over and done with in time for Valentine's Day.

Drunks, Weirdos and Other Characters I Have Known

One of the entertaining things about owning a MAC is some of the fun applications that come with it. One such application is Photo Booth. Needless to say, it brings out the kid in all who sit in front of the screen. Here are some of my favorite encounters. I call it: Drunks, Weirdos, and Other Characters I have Known. I will add to it as more people stop by the photo booth. Enjoy my imagination!

(Click on photos for a larger version)












How can you tell this guy is an engineer?

1. Big cranium
2. Doesn't comb hair
3. Fine "lab attire"
   
4. All of the above
   

The Boss checks up on you to see if you are working hard. Are you slacking off? He will dock your pay and you will have to work overtime just to stay in his good graces. He's watching you!







Artist Bob Ross. "In my world, this happy little tree lives next to the pretty stream where the flowers play all day in the sunshine."








Eh heh...
That was so funny I forgot to laugh!








Oh my god. They want me to come to Roswell for an interview!









Fine...I don't care! Do what you want.









You're freaking me out!









Just pour me a Buttshot and I will be a happy woman . I will lick that baby clean, right down to the bottom of the glass!








Jay Leno's illegitimate son.









Whadda you lookin' at?









Mmm-hmm. What are you doing in there?









Uh-oh. What did I just sit in?









Having trouble...staying awake...must sleep...









Good LORD, I need a drink!









Nooo. You didn't...









Wow, sis. There's a huge lump on your head!

Well, at least it's not as big as your hand...

Watkins Glen State Park, New York

During a recent vacation to western New York we spent a day in Watkins Glen in the Finger Lakes region of New York. No, we were NOT there to see the race track or anything else Formula ONE. We were there to travel back in time 12,000 years.

Watkins Glen State Park is in a 400 foot deep narrow gorge cut through rock by a stream that was left hanging, when glaciers of the ice age deepened the Seneca Valley, increasing the tributary stream gradient to create rapids and waterfalls (wherever there were hard layers of rock). The rocks of the area are sedimentary that are part of a dissected plateau that was uplifted with little distortion. They consist mostly of soft shales, with some layers of harder sandstone and limestone. Over the past 12.000 years, the stream wore its way through the surrounding plateau, creating the gorge that is the park today. Bottom line – this makes for some incredible water drops, interesting pools, and an amazing record of the layers that once made up the inland ocean bed that covered the area. Within two miles, the glen's stream descends 400 feet past 200-foot cliffs, generating 19 waterfalls along its course. The gorge path winds over and under waterfalls and through the spray of Cavern Cascade. Rim trails overlook the gorge.

We decided to ascend the gorge itself and return via the old “Indian Trail” which comes back down the plateau through the woods along the gorge rim. All in all, there are almost two miles of steps ascending through the gorge and we climbed through a little over one mile of them. Along the way we saw many beautiful pools (including the Heart-Shaped pool), passed behind waterfalls flowing down the gorge as well as some falling down from the sides of the gorge rim, dodged drips here and there, and stopped to take lots of pictures.

As we hiked down the old Indian Trail through the woods along the rim, I thought about what it must have been like to be the first to discover this gem. It would be fascinating to know more about the local history of the gorge – what went on here over the centuries and who did what here. I’ll save that for another day of research.

Outing to Cascade Locks/Bridge of the Gods

I recently took part of my team from work (those that live in the Washington/Oregon area) on a fun day off to ride the sternwheeler Columbia Gorge on the Columbia River for a few hours. The boat operates out of Cascade Locks, OR near the area known as Bridge of the Gods.

Native American lore contains numerous legends to explain the eruptions of Mount St. Helens and other cascade volcanoes. The most famous is the Bridge of the Gods legend told by the Klickitats. In their tale, the chief of all the gods, Saghalie and his two sons Pahto and Wyeast traveled down the Columbia River in search of a suitable place to settle. They came upon the area known today as The Dalles and thought they had never seen such a beautiful land. The sons quarreled over the land and to solve the dispute their father shot two arrows from his mighty bow; one to the north and one to the south. Pahto followed the arrow to the north and settled there while Wyeast did the same for the arrow to the south. Saghile then built the Bridge of the Gods so that his family could meet periodically. When the two sons fell in love with the same beautiful maiden named Loowit, she could not choose between them. The two young chiefs fought over her, burying villages and forests in the process. The area was devastated and the earth shook so violently that the huge bridge fell into the river, creating the cascades of the Columbia River Gorge. For punishment Saghalie struck down each of the lovers and transformed them into great mountains where they fell. Wyeast with his head lifted in pride became the volcano known today as Mt. Hood and Pahto, with his head bent toward his fallen love became the volcano known today as Mt. Adams. The fair Loowit became Mount St. Helens, known to the Klickitat as Louwala-Clough which means “smoking Mountain” in their language.

Now for the scientific geological version…

The original Bridge of the Gods was created approximately 300 years ago by the Bonneville Slide which dammed the Columbia River Gorge in the modern-day Pacific Northwest sometime in the 18^th century. It was a landslide across the Columbia over 200 feet high. Eventually the river overcame the landslide and wore its way through the rock and debris creating the Cascade Rapids.

Cascade Locks is a small town of roughly 1100 people in northern Oregon which took its name from a set of locks built to improve navigation around the Cascade Rapids on the Columbia River. The locks were completed in 1896 but were subsequently submerged in 1938, as the waters rose behind the newly completed Bonneville Lock and Dam. The modern steel Bridge of the Gods, which was raised 40 feet during the construction of Bonneville dam, is frequently used by hikers along the Pacific Crest Trail to cross the Columbia River. Cascade Locks is the lowest point along the trail which runs from the Mexican border in California to the Canadian border in Washington.

The Columbia Gorge is a sternwheel river boat meaning the paddle wheel is located at the aft end of the boat. We boarded the boat at 10:45 and shoved off at 11:00 sharp headed downriver toward Bonneville Dam. As we headed downstream I climbed to the pilot house and requested permission to come aboard the bridge. Permission granted, I asked a bunch of questions of the captain (who happened to be a female and who's husband was the boat's chief engineer). As we began our float over what was once Cascade Rapids (it's calm like a lake now), the water depth was 68 feet. Once we were just past the rapids, we read 160 feet of depth! This is a good indication of just how wild those rapids must have been to drop that fast in such a short distance. We made our way downriver, turning around as we approached Bonneville Dam. As we came about and headed back up river, we could see all the native American fishing platforms where descendants of the Chinook Indians still dip net the Chinook salmon and steelhead.

We passed Cascade Locks once again, going east up river when the captain announced that there was a big smoke plume aft of the boat. We made our to the stern in time to see a major fire growing on the north bank of the river. The fire turned out to be the Stevenson Co-Ply Mill complex, a former plywood production mill, which was abandoned in 1992. As the captain pulled to boat within a few hundred yards of the fire, we watched a Bell AH-1 Cobra fire fighting helicopter perform helittack operations using a 324 gallon Bambi Bucket. As the fire came under control, airborne debris in the form of ashes and cinders fell on us until we docked once again at Cascade Locks, across the river from the fire.

We all left to head home, lucky to be living down river since the road east of the plywood mill fire was still closed due to firefighting efforts. Today we got more than we paid for...a trip on the river plus ringside seats to watch the fire fighting efforts. Not bad for a work day!

Life Shapers

This Life Shapers document was originally written for my mother on Mother's Day as a reminder of all the things that happened to me in my life that shaped who I am today. While not all inclusive, it captures a great deal of the highlights. It made me realize I am a lucky man indeed for having had these experiences:

Sat on a pile of ants crying while my dad took many pictures of me (he didn’t know).

Ate oranges, apples, and bananas from trees.

Touched the Great Buddha in Japan.

Was chased by pecking roosters, mad dogs, German kids, Japanese kids, helicopter pilots, moose, bears, bad guys, angry parents, and the cops.

Steered a canal boat on the Zider Zee in Amsterdam.

Drank rainwater collected in the leaves of tundra grass on the cliffs of an Aleutian Island while watching gray whales breach in the Bering Sea.

Hit home runs, scored touchdowns, won wrestling matches, set a school track record, made the Japanese Little League All Stars, and lettered in four sports.

Lost every single game in football one season, struck out, broke a leg on the field, suffered a concussion during a game, and got kicked off a team.

Wore real wooden shoes in Holland.

Broke four leg bones, seven ribs, my wrist three times, and my nose twice.

Played guitar on stage in a band in junior high, high school, as an adult in bars, at company parties, private parties, and state fairs.

During 20 years in the Navy I learned to protect, learned to spy, learned to kill with extreme prejudice, learned to be inventive, and learned to lead people. I walked beside people of greatness. I also saw the inequities of the world’s selfish and witnessed the tyrannies of evil men.

Launched and recovered fighter aircraft from the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. Saw men die violently, up close and personal, for the first time.

Lived at sea for ten months at a time, several times.

Married a woman I hardly knew (still with her and still love her 34 years later).

Stood on a boat between Europe and Asia.

Watched the Marines march in parade uniform at sea during our nation’s 200^th birthday while my son was being born half a world away.

Left my wife and children many times for duty to my country, never sure if I would see them again.

Stood, swam, floated, and paddled in the Pacific Ocean, Atlantic Ocean, Mediterranean

Sea, The Caribbean, Sea of Japan, Gulf of Mexico, Red Sea, Persian Gulf, Bering Sea,

Bermuda Triangle, numerous rivers, and too many lakes to count.

Watched kittens being born on my friend’s bed, then watched two of them die.

Played in a swamp full of snapping turtles, cottonmouth water moccasins, and copperhead snakes in a gravel pit. Never feared any of them as much as I feared the watchman who tried to keep us out of the gravel pit.

Caught blue-tailed skinks off the bricks of my house. Also caught salmon, baby rabbits, frogs, snakes, turtles, crayfish, crabs, birds, and possums, all with my bare hands.

Started forest fires, helped fight forest fires, and set my bed on fire accidentally. Also set a neighbor’s yard on fire with a plastic fire breathing (hair spray and Zippo lighter) Godzilla.

Ice-skated on a ten-mile long lake in the Alaska wilderness.

Walked and climbed on glaciers.

Paddled kayaks, canoes, and inflatable rafts on rivers, oceans, wetlands, and lakes, sometimes at midnight.

Helped raise two fine sons. My proudest moment was the first time I saw them play in a band together on stage at the university, I thought they were cool.

Went to school in Japan, New York, the Aleutian Islands, Washington DC, Anchorage, Alaska, and Virginia.

Climbed trees, mountains, tundra cliffs, buildings, and down into caves.

Buried my father.

Camped outside in a lean-to at 40 degrees below zero.

Flew remote controlled jet powered targets at Mach 2 for Navy fighter aircraft to shoot at.

Shattered all combat pistol course records for the Navy.

Learned to speak some Japanese, German, Spanish, Italian, Farsi, Vietnamese,

French, and Filipino.

Played with marbles, yo-yos, pachinko games, toy soldiers, read comic books, traded baseball cards, collected coins, pulled wheelies on my bike, shot BB guns, and jumped on satellite shoes.

Played army, played guitar, played hooky, and played around with girls.

Was initiated as a Navy Chief Petty Officer and later, appointed to Senior Chief.

Cracked my head open on the cobblestones of El Morro fort in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Got banged up, bruised, cut, soaked, burned, shot, and exhausted beyond belief during Crisis Response Force Training.

Got married in a tiny chapel with only three people present.

Didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 19 and married (which never stopped me from driving in high school).

After 20 years of working on some of the most sophisticated intelligence gathering equipment in the world, I went to work for Hewlett-Packard as an entry-level production worker.

Watched dolphins lead U.S. Navy warships through the straits of Gibraltar. Also watched dolphins swim alongside my ocean kayak in the Gulf of Mexico.

Ate fresh killed quail cooked in mud balls by an 85-year-old black man I met in the woods while hunting in the swamps of Virginia.

Was at the 9^th grade teen club dance when a girl I knew fell over dead from inhaling freon from a plastic bag while trying to get high.

Stood on the ruins of the Parthenon in Athens and watched the sunset. Also watched the sunset from the Colossus of Rhodes, the Serengetti Forest, at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba, the sand dunes of Kitty Hawk where humans first flew, a cliff overlooking Mt. Fuji in Japan, a C-130 aircraft 30,000 feet over North Africa, and way too many islands to list.

Watched ravens for hours and found my inner spirit…mischievous…clever…the prankster.

Wanted a Fender Telecaster electric guitar more than anything in the world when I was ten. Finally got one when I was 38 and played that first night until my fingers bled.

Watched my baby brother fly his F-18 on a 7-G carrier break at NAS Pensacola, home of the Blue Angels. Talk about cool! Two months later he was flying incredibly dangerous combat missions over Kuwait during the Gulf War. I was continuously sick with worry until he was home. A few years later I was at his side when he beat cancer, possibly caused by Gulf War inoculation cocktails. The war tried to kill him twice...

In Japan we had a Japanese maid. I would say what I thought might be naughty Japanese words in front of her. If she scolded me, I ran to my bedroom and wrote that word down as an authenticated Japanese naughty word…for future use…the beginning of my colorful vocabulary.

Was violently run over by an 18 year old pregnant girl with no insurance while riding my motorcycle

Learned to fly fish at age 46…found out where heaven was.

At age 51, reconnected with some great folks I grew up with in remote parts of the world...this after 40 years of leading different lives. I rediscovered once again that some things never change; we instantly had bonds and connections few others will ever know or understand. This comes from experiences and life shapers of our own, living and growing up together in a time and place removed from America's mainstream, very tribal like...part of the military family. What a great way to grow up!