“Bounce and Tilt”

Posted on 09/08/2014 by Bobo

A friend of mine, call sign ‘Rat,’ once flew with a Tweet guy (T-37 IP) on a staff assistance visit somewhere or another.  They were in formation with another T-38.  At one point while in ‘fingertip’ formation (on the wing) Rat offered to let the Tweet guy fly the jet (a T-38).  We often did this – as kind of a “professional courtesy” I suppose.

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When they landed back at Randolph, Rat asked the Tweet guy what he thought about flying the jet in formation.

“Well, Sir,” the Tweet guy began, “I felt real comfortable in ‘bounce,’ but was not comfortable at all with ’tilt.’  WTF, over?!

Rat just looked at him.  He had never heard anything so stupid – and from a Air Force pilot!  So, he asked, “Bounce and tilt?”

“Oh,” the guy began, “‘bounce’ is when the aircraft ‘bounces’ up and down; ’tilt’ is when the aircraft leans in and out, toward the other aircraft.”

And that’s the way it was – we learned something new every time we event up.  “Bounce and Tilt” – who knew?

I would have loved to have seen Rat, as he sat through this explanation.  It had to have been killing him!  Bounce and Tilt!  YGBSM!  (It’s killing me now!)

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My Crazy-Ass Neighbor…

Posted on 27/07/2014 by Bobo

Let me tell you about my ‘crazy-ass’ neighbor…

Lauri and Gary moved in next door to me maybe 21 years ago or so; in 1992 – ’93.  I really liked Gary right away; Lauri, not so much.  My “defensive senses” activated right away when I met her although I didn’t understand why.  Today, I do…

Gary committed suicide about 3 years ago.  I think it was ruled “justifiable suicide.”  It’s a shame because I genuinely liked the guy.  He was smart, and could really make me laugh!

After he died Lauri moved back in with her new boyfriend Dave.  (She had moved out about 3 years prior.)  I like him also.  Anyway, late last summer she picked up a new dog – a pit bull – boxer mix.  Great!  And ever since that dog has been a pup she has been unable to control him.

Last Fall I asked her if she could keep him from coming over to my place and raising hell with my dog, Jake.  He’s not mean, he just races around everywhere, tearing up things as he goes.  She agreed to do what she could, telling me that she was unable to control him.  And for a couple months, the dog stayed (for the most part) in her yard.

Then over the winter, the dog began coming over here again, barking at me as I cleaned snow from my driveway.  Charming.  All winter; bark, bark, bark…

This Spring I once again asked her to keep ‘Fido,’ or whatever it’s name is, over in her yard – and for 3 weeks or so, no problem.  Then it began “free-ranging” in my yard again.

To her credit, Lauri would come over and try to fetch the dog.  Occasionally she would catch him, then beat the shit out of him – in my front yard.  You probably haven’t had the experience of having the sun blocked out of your bay window by a crazy-ass neighbor bending over beating her dog in your front yard!  It was almost as dark in my living room as a solar eclipse!

Then one day it really raised hell over here.  Racing though all my gardens, terrifying my chickens and taking after one of my pheasants.  By then I had had enough, so I called the Sheriff.

A deputy came, then had a talk with her – and now, all is well…. well, almost.  Guess I pissed her off.

I have bee hives in back, behind my pond.  To get to them, I’ve had to use a trail in the woods that begins on her property.  It hasn’t been a problem, until I reported ‘Fido!’

She never said anything to me, she just hung a rope across the trail.

IMG_2279 So, last Saturday evening I just stepped over it as I went out to check my hives.  She was out in the yard and I heard her say (to Fido, I suppose), “You can go get him, he’s in your yard.”  (And exactly ‘when’ did Fido buy the place?)  I ignored her.

Then last Sunday a sign was added to the rope:

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“Posted, No Trespassing”  Now I am set up…

Going around the pond no the East end has always been a bit tricky.  When they pond was built, they just used a bulldozer to push the dirt to the East, leaving a hill.  That hill begins on the edge of the pond, at the property line.  Well, okay…

Unfortunately, the pond goes on to Lauri’s property on the West side… Not by much, but enough to deny me land access to the back of my property, and the hives.  So… last weekend I cut a trail on the hill.  (I’m calling it “The Ho Chi Minh Trail.”)

IMG_2296And a lovely trail it is!  “Trailblazer,” I now have to add that to my list of accomplishments here on this Earth!  As it turns out, it’s now a shorter walk back to the hives…

To complete the project, I had a sign made:

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LMFAO – Laughing My Fu*king Ass Off (With a Happy Face, of course!)

If she takes it “personal,” well that’s okay – it’s meant to be!  Now I just have to have a few more signs made:

“No Fishing” – she has never had any respect for boundaries…

“No Using MY boat anymore” – the first time she took it out on the pond, she broke an oar for me.

“No Stealing My Raspberries” – she came over one year and took ALL my raspberries – all but 9 of them!

She has made a BIG mistake entering a “sign war” with me!  LOL!

 

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Registering a Canoe in Ohio

Posted on 20/07/2014 by Bobo

So Chris B. comes over from Missouri to spend a couple days with me, just to hang out this past weekend.  I knew Chris from the Air Force.  He had been my crew chief on my last flight.

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On Friday I decided we would take out the canoe I had built – put it on the Maumee River for a bit.  It is a 19-foot, redwood ‘strip’ river canoe.  I had it out earlier the year, just by myself to see if the damn thing would float, and discovered it really needed 2 people to operate.

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Before we could take it out on the river I had to have it registered.  (On the ‘test run’ here I just paddled around in the cove a bit to see how it would handle.)  Okay, no worries.  Somewhere along the line I picked up that I could register it at the ‘Bass Pro Shop.’  That made sense; they sell boats and canoes and all over there… and that was the fundamental error in my thinking.  Thinking that ‘that made sense.’  No, they can’t register canoes in Ohio; I have to have that done at the Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles (BMV) – even though I don’t have a motor on my canoe…

No worries though; the Ohio BMV is just around the corner (Loop 425) from the Bass Pro Shop, on the way home.  So, off Chris and I go to register my canoe.

Said the Serenity Prayer, as I always do, as I walked into the Ohio BMV.  I’ve found it seems to help when dealing with those fine folks.

As luck would have it, I got right in, without having to take a number.  When I told the lady why I was there, she asked for my ‘inspection.’

“Inspection?” I asked.

Yep, seems like I have to have my canoe inspected.  YGBSM!  “How do I do that?” I asked.

“Well, she said, “you have to contact the Division of Watercraft, Maumee Bay Field Office in Oregon, Ohio (about 20 – 25 miles away).  “The Hell you say,” I thought to myself.  She gave me their card, so when I got out to the truck, I decided to call them…

It seems that I need to have a Ranger come by to inspect the canoe.  And since I built it, I will need receipts for the materials.  I explained to her that  Harry and I bought the redwood almost 3 years ago, and that I didn’t have any receipts.  I told her that I thought he took them with him to the ‘hereafter.’  Went right by her.  She then told me any receipt will do: a receipt for the wood, for the seats, for the epoxy or varnish – anything.  YGBSM!  She went on to tell me, they needed receipts for their computer records.

Well hell, okay.  I think I have some receipts around the shop I might be able to dig out; I’ll see when the spirit moves me.  In the meantime, while I wait for the ranger to call, to set up an appointment to inspect the canoe, I think I’ll go online and order a couple “adult-oriented” toys.  Those receipts might just go nicely with the ones for the epoxy and varnish… wonder what their computer will think of that?

I would love to think of the Ranger getting back to headquarters and handing a fist-full of receipts to the clerk who has to enter them into the computer.  You know, it just might never dawn on them why I would need 4 D-cell batteries for that redwood strip canoe!

She then asked me if she could answer any other questions I might have.  “Well,” I began, “now that you brought it up, what am I going to tell my grandchildren?  I told them that Grampa Bob would take them for a canoe ride this afternoon, and now I can’t.”

She replied, “Well Sir, you’re almost there.”

“Okay,” I said, “I’m sure ‘almost being there’ will help a 4 and 6-year old understand.”  Then she told me that I could take the canoe up to Michigan; that they don’t have registration laws in their state.

“Don’t they care for their people as much as you do, down here in Ohio?” I asked.  Oh crap, she bit!

After that I decided to let her go; she was wearing me out!

Bureaucrats!

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TBT: 10 July 2014

Posted on 10/07/2014 by Bobo

TBT: (Throwback Thursday) – This is a toothpick holder Mom picked up in Okinawa, in 1953 – ’55.  It was always somewhere in our kitchens from Okinawa to Tucson to Ramey (Puerto Rico), Westover AFB, MA, France and Germany while I was a kid. Then it resided on counters or in cabinets in Atlanta, Rantoul, Il, and San Antonio.  When Mom passed in 2002 I grabbed it, and it now sits on my kitchen counter… Not many notice it, but I do.  I see it ever day now, and it continually brings a smile to my face… God love ya Mom!

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The BratBase – A Concept

Posted on 08/07/2014 by Bobo

And, what about a “BratBase?”  A place where Military Brats could visit to relive the experiences of their youth?  ‘Reveille’ in the morning, ‘Retreat’ at 1700 hours followed by ‘Taps’ at 2200 hours.  The lullabies of our youth…  And of course, the Base Theater, the Teen Club, O’Club and the NCO Club, Base Pools and so forth – all the things we grew up with.  An installation with a Front Gate and patrolled by folks dressed as ‘Security Police.’  A place safe for a kid…

This idea surfaced on a Facebook group page I administer, “The BratPin.”  When proposed, the idea “lit off!”  Who knew?  It was fun to watch at first, then I began to think, “why not?”  Why not “re-create” a place like this for Military Kids – old and not-so-old?  A place not only for “recreation,” but also one for healing…

It is beyond the scope of this post to go into the “healing” aspects of such a proposal other than to say that Military Brats spend a great deal of their youth in “grief” without actually knowing it – for we are always ‘leaving.’  We are always experiencing “loss” of one sort or another.  Loss of friends, loss of schools, homes, identities, etc.  A lot of us never realize it, but deal with “other issues” in life.  Pat Conroy once observed that, ‘…being a military brat damaged me.’  Oh I can relate to this – all too well!  I envision a ‘BratBase’ being a place where Brats can gather to share their experiences with others – to discover that they are not alone, as so many of us think.

So, how would I go about creating such a place?  Easy – first acquire an ‘abandoned’ military installation.  http://www.formerbases.com  (sounds ‘easy,’ doesn’t it?)  If the government can use these former installations for “illegal aliens,” why can’t we use them for Vets?  And Brats?

How would I do it?  Through “venture capitalism.”  Disneyland and Cedar Point make money, don’t they?  (I really don’t want any ‘government involvement’ at all.)

Who do I envision administrating such an installation?  Former Brats!  Wikipedia estimates there are over 15 million of us out here – surely a few of us have administrative experience.

Who do I see operating and maintaining the installation?  Former Vets.  Preferentially, homeless Vets.  There are a lot of Vets “out there” who would love to work on an installation like this.  They have the training in all sorts of disciplines needed to operate a military installation: civil engineers, security, communications and so forth.  And they all have the Pride!

This is a comment off my Facebook site from Sue:

“In addition your idea about converting a military base is very innovative.  If my son had access to something such as this, he may still be with us today!  It is so important to support our veterans!  My wish would be that there never be another family to experience the pain of loosing a loved one.  What you are suggesting could make such a difference to our vets.  My Dad was career Air Force, and so many times before he died my son would say how much he wished his Pawpaw was still here to talk to – he needed that type of connection.  Your idea could be a lifesaver for so many who have sacrificed so much!!!”

I think this place could also offer Mental Health services – for both Vets, and Brats.  Something to consider ‘down the line.’

I don’t know if such a ‘concept’ can ever come to fruition; but I do know, if I – if we – don’t even look at it, it never will…

And I have my eye on Camp Perry to begin with!

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Not Enough Pilots?

Posted on 29/06/2014 by Bobo

I pulled this off of Peter’s blog (The Bayou Renaissance Man):

What happens when you don’t train enough replacements

I note with interest that Japanese airlines are going to have to cancel thousands of flights this year because many of that country’s older pilots are being forced to retire – and there aren’t enough younger ones to replace them.  The same problem will affect US airlines to an increasing extent in the near future.

Like it or not, I think this will drive the development of automatically piloted aircraft to an ever-increasing extent.  Just as automatically piloted cars are now being tested, so expect this technology to extend to the airlines sooner rather than later.  At present each major commercial flight has two pilots.  I expect that within ten to twenty years, technology will have developed to the point that each flight will have a single pilot who’s basically along for the ride.  He’ll be there as a backup to the automated technology that’s actually flying the plane – or as a backup to a pilot sitting on the ground somewhere, flying the aircraft by remote control, just as is now common with military UAV’s.  Within another decade or two, I expect to see the first fully automated flights, without a pilot at all.

That’s a scary prospect at present, with UAV’s having recorded a far higher accident rate than manned aircraft.  However, like it or not, if there aren’t enough pilots, this is the way the airline industry will have to go.

Peter

I have kinda said this for years, beginning back in the mid-90s as UAVs initially began gaining popularity.

“Oh, this will never happen in America; the American people would just never stand for it,” was the usual reply from the guys I flew with.  To which I would come back with, “The ‘American people’ is too stupid anymore to care…”  And I think this remains true, even today.

It all comes back to the dollar – greed.  The “suits” at the airlines will pay as little as they can get away with – to where kids today just don’t see the value in being an airline pilot anymore.  Hell, I don’t know if I would want to fly for those creeps anymore.

Oh well, es no my problem…

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Clapping With One Hand

Posted on 15/06/2014 by Bobo

“Holding On” is something I have always been good at.  Whether it be to an old t-shirt, a favorite vehicle or relationships – I am god at holding on.  What I have come to realize of late is how much energy it consumes to hold on.  It’s as exhausting as vigorously clapping with one hand!  So here about a year ago I began to pay attention to my relationships.  Which ones were nourishing?  Which ones were exhausting?  What was my part in each relationship?  How present was I?  How present was the other person?  What I discovered was very enlightening for me, and has given me a lesson in ‘letting go.’

I had one fiend I’ll call Joe because that’s his mane.  I have known Joe since 1978.  At one time we were very close – drinking buddies you might say.  Rarely did a day pass where we didn’t talk 3 to 4 times throughout the day, in addition o getting together for a ‘debriefing’ and a cold beer at the end of the day.  Joe was with me through the thick and thin of it all.  As the years have passed, and I moved away, we began moving apart.  I sensed it, and yet I held on.  Eventually I would only hear from Joe every 4 – 6 months, and typically, only when I called…

About 2 months ago I called Joe to catch up on things.  He was cordial as usual, but I felt he ‘wasn’t there’ in the conversation.  After 3 -4 minutes he received another call that he ‘had to take.’  “Call me sometime when you have time to talk” he remarked as he said goodbye.  Hell, that’s what I had just done.  I felt as if I were clapping with one hand when I hung up…

Since Joe is a very busy person I shot him an email a couple-3 days later.  I thanked him for being my friend for all those years, wished him further success, and said goodbye.  I was ‘complete’ with him.  I also extended an invitation for him to call em sometime, when he had time to talk, thereby leaving the door open for him.  No anger, no remorse, no resentment.  I allowed myself to feel gratitude and acknowledge the blessing of having him in my life for the time he was – and let go…

Ever call someone you haven’t talked to for a while only to hear, “Oh, I was just thinking of you!”  Or, “I was just about to call you!”  Once or twice, well, okay; but repeatedly over time, there’s a message there.  And it took me a long time to get it, because I wasn’t willing to “let go.”  I was forever “hanging on,” hoping…  And, in my subconscious, I knew it!  It always rang hollow: “I was just thinking of you…” but I chose to ignore it, knowing all the while I was just clapping with one hand.

There’s a guy in the Fellowship (of AA) who’s company I really enjoy.  When I would call him and suggest lunch, very often we would get together and have lunch, and great conversation.  Then I noticed, if I didm;t call him, I wouldn’t had from him either.  Rather than create a resentment, I talked with him about this to which he explained, “Because of your schedule (I was till flying at the time) I never know when you ar chime.”  I didn’t have to explore my subconscious to notice how hollow this sounded!  And it also hurt.  Another opportunity to ‘let go…’

With each of these relationships I was able to let go, without resentment.  Today when these folks ‘walk through my mind,’ I welcome them with warmth, for my brief association with them.  I don’t shut them out.  I acknowledge them for the blessings they brought to my life, and I offer a prayer for their well being and happiness.  And I let them go.  In this I’ve discovered I create space for new friends and for new relationships that were not possible while I was so desperately holding on; holding on to the Past…

Today I rejoice for these new relationships by clapping with both hands!

Feb. 2004

 

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Father’s Day

Posted on 15/06/2014 by Bobo

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth:

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I counted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the road less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

I have loved Robert Frost’s poetry since I was first introduced to it at 14 in Massachusetts of all places.  It speaks to me, as in this poem.

Dear Ole Dad was a drunk.  And so was, and so am I.  However he continued down his road to the bitter end, and I — I took the road less travelled, and that has made all the difference.

For years I was very bitter and angry toward him.  Couldn’t hardly talk about him in early sobriety.  Then as the years passed, and my head cleared, I began to feel more and more gratitude toward him – for he showed me, in his life, where I was heading with my drinking.  So I chose ‘the road not taken’ – and that has made all the difference…

 

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Engaging in Mindless Sh*t

Posted on 12/06/2014 by Bobo

I suppose the earliest memory I have of engaging in ‘mindless shit’ is when I was a senior in high school.  Someone noticed that I had nice handwriting and asked me to make the seating place name tags for the Senior Prom.  Well, okay…

There were 256 or so of us in our Senior Class, and I spent hours handwriting writing names in Old English.  Name after name, mindless shit… but it helped while the time away.

Over the years I would often find myself taking on, or volunteering to perform ‘mindless shit,’ either for myself or others, it didn’t matter – it doesn’t matter.

Just before I got sober I would cut trees on my property.  Hour after hour I would take down silver maples and other ‘trash trees’ and cut the logs into 18″ pieces for the fireplace.  Just my chain saw, my music and my self.  Mindless shit.  Nobody tends to bother you when you are cutting logs…

In sobriety I once again find myself engaged in ‘mindless shit.’  For example, today I am building bee hive frames.  I have 50 of them to build,  It is not ‘intellectually stimulating, by any means, just repetitive, mindless shit.  But it does tend to stave off the sadness…  that damned ever-present sadness decided to visit me again this morning.

‘Mindless shit’ seems to be the way I deal with it.  I know it will pass; in time; maybe, we’ll see…

So, for now, I’ll just shut up and row…

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Let the Wind Blow Through You

Posted on 07/06/2014 by Bobo

“A playground dispute in the fourth grade concluded with a barrage of epithets hurled at me, each one more stinging than the one before it.  I was called every derogatory name for Indians that two white fourth-grade classmates could remember.  Stunned, I could think of nothing equally hurtful to throw back.

That evening, still hurting from the insults, I told my grandfather about the incident.

‘Words can hurt,’ he said, “but only if you let them.  They called you bad names.  Were you changed into the things they called you?”

“No,” I replied.

“You cannot forget what they said any more than you cannot feel the wind when it blows.  But if you learn to let the wind blow through you, you will take away its power to blow you down.  If you let the words pass through you, without letting them catch on your anger or pride, you will not feel them.”

This story is shared by Joseph Marshall III in his book, “the lakota way.”  I look forward to passing it along one day, to my grandkids – for it does reflect wisdom, and is a good way to deal with bullies of all ages.

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