“Vot Ve Vant to Know Ist…”

Posted on 29/07/2012 by Bobo

(This is one of the stories I heard while flying at Northwest Airlines.)

Apparently a Northwest jet showed up at Frankfurt Airport one day, a “bit low” on fuel – for whatever reason.  It happens.  Upon initial contact with Frankfurt Approach the conversation went something like, “Frankfurt Approach, Northwest 168 is with you at 3,000 feet.  Be advised Sir, we are running a bit low on fuel and would like to get in as soon as possible.”  We usually took this tact upon initial contact vs. declaring an ’emergency’ to avoid the paperwork.

“Roger,” Frankfurt acknowledged, “maintain 3,000, anticipate holding.”

A few minutes later Northwest 168 contacted Frankfurt with, “Frankfurt Approach, Northwest 168 – Sir, we are getting kinda tight on fuel now, and need approach clearance as soon as possible.”

The controller replied with, “Northwest 168, you vill land at Frankfurt when I say you vill land, und not before.”

Finally with their fuel state nowreally getting low, the Captain of Northwest 168 grabbed the mic and said, “Look Fritz, this is Northwest 168 and we are out of gas.  We need to land, and we need to land NOW!”  At that point they received their approach clearance landed without further incident.

Upon arrival at the gate the crew noticed tow “suits” standing on the jet bridge, wearing their spiffy ‘Inspector Clouseau’ trench coats.  “Oh shit,” the captain thought, “I really stepped in it now…”

After the passengers had all deplaned, the two suits came into the cockpit.  Without being prompted, the captain launched into an apology.  “Hey guys, I’m really sorry about getting a bit short with the controller on approach, but we were really running out of gas…” he offered.

“Oh,” replied one of the suits, “ve don’t care about that; vot ve vant to know ist, how did you know his name vas Fritz?”

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Well, Hell…

Posted on 24/07/2012 by Bobo

Years ago, Don Ross told me a story about when he worked as a busboy at a local country club..  He told me that one morning a guy sitting at a table in the dining room went to pour a glass of water.  Only he failed to notice that his glass was upside down.  The water soon was cascading all over the table.  Instead of getting upset about the whole deal, apparently this guy just looked up at Don and said something to the effect; “Some days I think to my self, “Well,” – then other days I think, “Well, Hell…”  And that was that, simple as it was.

Last Sunday night, 22 Jul. 2012, a little bit past eight, I returned a phone call I had received.  I listened, and after the short conversation, hung up and just sat there – thinking to myself, “Well, Hell.  What were the past 3 weeks all about?”  And so, Life goes on.

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“Two’s In…”

Posted on 23/07/2012 by Bobo

I have a good friend who has battled one physical ailment after another for the better part of 35 – 40 years now.  Cancer, radiation treatment, a serious fall, botched surgeries and so forth.  Recently he had an “event” (docs ain’t sure – stroke, seizure, brain tumor, what-ever) that rendered him unconscious for 2-3 days.  After he was stabilized, the ‘medicos’ set him up for a battery of tests, to begin about a month after his ‘event.’

I have seen what this ‘event’ has taken out of him this time.  He hasn’t quite bounced back.  Don’t know if he will.  about two weeks ago he cancelled all his appointments.  Like he said, “Bob, I’m just tired of all this shit.”  I can ‘relate…’

I asked him what his plan is – not following up with his medical appointments.  He told me it was to live each day to the fullest, and see what happens.  “One Day at a Time;” where have I heard that?

I don’t have any ‘serious’ physical issues, that I am aware of today – but I have been dealing with a couple ’emotional’ issues.  A couple have been with me for a long as my friend’s physical issues have been with him… to where I am tired.  Just tired of resisting, of fighting… I can feel the fatigue in my body this morning.

A couple-3 days ago a friend mentioned to me, “Oh Bob, you are such a ‘goofball!”  Yep, Bob’s a ‘goofball.’  Have been all my life.  Either that, or the “class clown,” or a goofy ‘fuck,’ or what-ever.

I have heard the ‘whispers behind my back’ all my life.  Have pretended they didn’t matter, that they didn’t hurt… but they did.   They do.  Well, no more pretending, I’m tired…

I am not of the conviction to “do anything rash,” but if my friend departs, I would welcome the opportunity to be his Wingman – when the time comes…

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Searchers…

Posted on 23/07/2012 by Bobo

“Some people do not have to search, they find their niche early in life and rest there, seemingly contented and resigned.  They do not seem to ask much of life, sometimes they do not seem to take it seriously.  At times I envy them, but usually I do not understand them.  Seldom do they understand me.

I am one of the searchers.  There are, I believe, millions of us.  We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content.  We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret.  We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand.  We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty.  We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well.  Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as our laughter.  To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we know unless it be to share our laughter.

We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide.  Most of all we want to love and be loved.  We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give.  We do not want to prove ourselves to another or to compete for love…”

James Kavenaugh

I am ‘kinda here,’ today…

 

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Update On ‘The House That Built Me…’

Posted on 22/07/2012 by Bobo

After I posted on “The House That Built Me,” a friend commented that my the house reminded her of one she was familiar with – a house that had been a “pre-fab” house from Sears, also built, maybe in the Thirties.  Interesting.  She sent a picture of the house, along with a link to the old Sears catalog.  Soon I began looking…

It didn’t take long, but I did find my grandparents house:

 

The think that convinced me I was looking at my grandparents house was the floor plan.  It was essentially what we had in that house.  Man, the memories that floor plan brought back…

As the floor plan is depicted here, ‘West’ is to the right.  My room – for my 4 years of college – was the East bedroom upstairs.  There were also a couple ‘modifications’ to the plans as published here.  There was a breakfast ‘nook’ off the back of the kitchen where we tended to gather in for meals – and Gram would set her pies on the sills to cool.  I could ‘almost’ reach them from outside the house… and maybe once or twice I did manage to snag one?

We also had a second (small) bathroom and the 3 attics upstairs.  But overall, it is my Grandparents’ house…no doubt.  And a wonderful house it was…

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The House That Built Me…

Posted on 18/07/2012 by Bobo

I was out back washing the house just now when Miranda Lambert’s song, “The House That Built Me” came on – and I got to thinkin’ about the house that built me…  This is that house.

It was a neat house, a warm house, a ‘safe’ house.  It sat just West of the bank in Whitehouse, OH until it was moved in 1973.

The house was built in 1937 by the folks in Whitehouse, and given to my grandparents.  My grandfather, Fred, had fed the folks of Whitehouse during the Depression and this was their way of expressing their gratitude.

I first came to this house on 4 September 1946; three days after I was born.  Until dear ole Dad was called back to active duty in 1950, we would visit Gram and Grampa almost daily.  I became very acquainted with the sounds and smells of that house very early in life.  The iron in the water, Gram’s fresh-baked pies, the musk of the basement – all of it.

After Dad went back on active duty, we would visit that house in between duty stations.  I just loved it; it was essentially the only “permanent” home I ever had.  Living in that house was great; but so was playing in it.  There was a clothes chute that two boys could really have fun with.  There were 3 attics just full of treasures to be discovered, as well as the coal bin and fruit cellar in the basement.  And then there was that old ringer washer to watch!  All kinds of neat ‘stuff’ to stimulate the imaginations of young boys.

As I was rinsing my house here a bit ago, and thinking about writing this piece,  it also came to me that it was in that old house where I first had “values” instilled into me.  Values like telling the truth, about work-ethic, about helping others (without complaint), about sharing and so forth.   Values that have served me well over the years; and for those ‘values,’ I am so grateful…

Just after I got sober, in 1994, I was “lost.”  It was if; “What the Hell happened?”  For a few years I just wondered around aimlessly, complying with all the hoops I had to jump through to keep my job – but not really participating in Life.  When ‘things’ began closing in on me one day, I found myself sitting out in front of this old house – just sitting there.  It was tough to hold back the tears.  I so wanted to “go back” to a simpler life… all the while, knowing I couldn’t.  So I just sat there, choking back the tears.

                                 This is Gram’s house today, sitting around the corner.

One afternoon while I was sitting out front of that house, the current owner walked out.  I certainly didn’t want to frighten her, so I got out of the car, and called out to her.  After getting her attention, I explained who I was to her, and why I was sitting out front.  She then invited me in to her house – to ‘my’ house – to see if it had changed.  How gracious was that?!  She didn’t have to ask me twice!

As soon as I walked in the back door, the scent of that house just overwhelmed me – and so many memories came flooding back.  I just stood there with my eyes closed, and basked in the flood of emotion.  What a “magic” time for me!  Yes, there were changes; but the house still ‘felt’ the same to me.  And it was so enveloping – enveloping with warmth, with a feeling of ‘home,’ of being ‘safe.’

I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I had to, so soon I was on my way.  I don’t visit that house as much as I did in early sobriety, but I will ‘stop by’ upon occasion – just to perhaps catch a glimpse of a simpler time – of a time it was safe and fun to be a kid…

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“CP-IP”

Posted on 04/07/2012 by Bobo

We had a gal show up in the Squadron (560th FTS) sometime in the mid-80s.  She was somewhat of a ‘ball of fire.’  Young, capable, a good pilot, self-motivated, personable – she was a delightful additional to our unit.

One morning we had an “open jet.”  It was an aircraft that, for some reason or another, was not going to be used for a scheduled mission.  It happened.  So Ops (Operations) was looking for someone to fly it.  “Here!”  I said, then I began looking around the squadron to see who I could get to go flying with me.  This first person I came across was Jane, and she was good to go.

It was humid out, and somewhat overcast.  But it was breaking up – not very fast, mind you, but it was breaking up.  I had seen this condition many, many times before.  We briefed, pre-flighted and  strapped in.  After engine start, I noticed that our Horizontal Situational Indicator (HSI – our compass) was ‘not quite right;’  It was kinda wandering.  Jane noticed it also, but I called for ‘taxi’ anyway.  I always felt that strapping in was the toughest part of any mission – and once I was strapped in, I was good to go.

Jane registered a concern right away, and several times thereafter as we continued to the runway.  At one time I was wondering if I was married to her?  Anyway, I had seen this condition several times before, and knew the HSI was (probably) damp from the humidity, and would soon dry out.  So I just pressed on, with Jane continuing to express her great concern.  It was kind of amusing, I have to say…

By the time we got to the runway, the cloud cover had begun to break up.  I think it was probably 60 – 70% overcast by that time, and I could see where it soon would be gone – or I sure as hell hoped it would be gone!  As we received takeoff clearance, Jane registered a ‘formal objection.’

“Colonel Holliker,” she said, “I just don’t think we should go.”

“Okay Jane, got it” I replied as I told her to go ahead and takeoff – with the HSI still unreliable.  We subsequently entered the cloud deck about 500 – 700 feet (AGL – above ground level), and broke out around 1400 – 1500 AGL.  While we were basically “in cloud,” with an unreliable HSI,  there were enough breaks in the clouds to keep oriented.

Our first maneuver was a simulated single-engine approach to a touch and go.  This was conducted with the use of radar vectors to align us with the runway and provide spacing from other aircraft.

“Now, how am I to turn to the assigned heading of 050 degrees without an HSI?” she asked – and herein was the lesson I wanted to give to her.

“Good question,” I replied.  I then told her to begin her turn and look back off her left shoulder.  We had taken off on Runway 14L, on a heading of 140 degrees.

“Can you see the runway?” I asked.

Hell, you would have to have been Stevie Wonder to have missed it!  She acknowledged she had it, so I told her to ‘put it off’ her left shoulder, and just guess at a heading 90 degrees of of the runway heading.  She did, and it worked great.

The radar controller then told us to take a heading of 320 degrees.  Jane picked up on it right away, looking out the window – the canopy – orienting herself to the runway we had just departed from, and paralleling it in the opposite direction.  That gave us a heading of 320 degrees.  By that time our HSI had settled down and was operating properly; but I didn’t tell her.  We continued northbound, then was given a heading of 230 degrees.  Using the runway, now clearly visible, Jane turned right to 230 degrees.  The rest of the pattern was unremarkable.

The lesson I wanted to teach her that day was to, know her equipment, know the environment and use what she had vs. calling it quits with a simple, predictable malfunction.  Did I take a “risk?”  You bet; absolutely.  Had anything else gone wrong, the “shoeclerks” would have been gleefully lining up to hang my ass!  But it all worked out, as I knew it would, and we had a great flight – at least, I did!

“CP-IP,” you ask?  Oh, that was Jane’s nickname, or call sign from the squadron.  In those days she wore her hair kinda short, and quite a bit curly.  With her brilliant dark hair, coupled with her height, she looked just like a cute, little ‘Cabbage Patch doll,’ consequently the name, “CP-IP:”  Cabbage Patch – Instructor Pilot.  Kinda has a nice ring to it…

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The Bee Inspector

Posted on 29/06/2012 by Bobo

Harry suggested I register my hives with the State of Ohio, Department of Agriculture.  Well hell, why not?  He went on to tell me that our county bee inspector was very knowledgeable of beekeeping, and would be very helpful.  So, I contacted him, and registered my hives.  Cost me $5.00.  You don’t get the inspection without registering your hives.

A couple days ago the inspector showed up, and yes, he was very helpful.  I learned a great deal from him in his short visit.  Yesterday as I was talking to Harry about his visit, Harry enlightened me about another facet of registering my hives: it gives the State an appreciation of the scope of my beekeeping endeavor – for taxes!  YGBSM!

Apparently ‘the State’ knows how much honey a mature hive produces in a given year.  Then, they can tax you accordingly – if you sell the honey.  Great, just great!  Now my bees can support ‘EBT cards’ for our Nation’s deadbeats!  How cool is that?

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Bees…

Posted on 29/06/2012 by Bobo

So earlier this year, Harry asks me, “Bob, have you ever thought about raising bees?”

“Why no,” I replied, “why would I think of raising bees?”

So, Harry went on to explain why he raises bees, and soon I was interested.  Then I got home and discovered ‘Raising Bees’ was the very next item on my ‘Bucket List!’  And that’s how I got started…

First I bought the book, “Beekeeping for Dummies,” an excellent book.  Then Harry and I built my first two hives.  As Spring (2012) approached I bought my ‘uniform,’ and the tools I would need for beekeeping.

On 25 April 2012 Harry and I went to Waldo, OH where I bought my first two ‘packages of bees.  A package of bees is 3 pounds of bees and a queen.

We then came home and inserted them into the hives.

And so it began…

‘To Bee and, Not to Bee….’

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Reflections From My Denmark Trip…

Posted on 27/06/2012 by Bobo

Have been thinking this week, about my trip to Denmark last week.  From the generosity of Chris and Rie I saw many wonderful things.  Hans Christian Anderson’s home, the ‘Mermaid” in Copenhagen, Princess Anne’s home, a ‘magic’ ancient castle, a fantastic local bakery (that I miss so much today), and a German POW camp for Danish resistance fighters of WW II.  Then there was the farm; and what a magnificent farm it is!  I can really appreciate the work that Chris and Rie have put into the place.

I spent between 4 to 5 days with Chris and Anne-Marie with my trip to Denmark.  Of everything I saw, perhaps the most impressive and lasting was the ‘intimacy’ between two people who have been married for over 42 years.  I feel very humbled to have had the opportunity to witness this between two very dear friends.  It was their subtle gestures that caught my attention – perhaps day in and day out gestures that would go unnoticed by others.  But I saw them.  A gentle touch on the shoulder, a reassuring tap on the hand, a knowing smile, continued bantering, and so forth.  It was a true joy for me to witness… it was so heartwarming to see.

For those of you who have such a relationship, treasure it; take a moment to reflect upon it yourself.  It certainly is a gift…

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