Terpin Hydrate

I never knew what this was, until the other day.  I took a lot of it in my youth, but today it’s banned by the FDA.  For our own protection, of course…

In my youth I knew it as ‘cough syrup;’ and it worked very well for me, thank you very much!  What I didn’t know at the time was, how addictive it was!  It had codeine in it.  

I am a recovering alcoholic.  One of the ‘drills’ we are put through in the treatment center was to look at our alcohol use – from the beginning to the often bitter ended.  I didn’t pick up on my addiction to cough syrup until a few years later – then it dawned on me!

I attended my junior year in high school (1962 – 1963) at Verdun High School, France. Our school was a former German hospital, converted to a high school for military kids.  It was kind of a ‘bleak’ place, surrounded by a high barbed wire fence.  Charming.

 

One day I had a cough so I went to the school nurse.  She listened to me for a while, then opened this large grey steel locker behind her desk.  She took out a pint of this ‘clear liquid,’ and handed it to me.  I took a ‘swig,’ and it burned like Hell!  I soon took a second swig, not quite knowing why.  It also burned, but not quite as much.  By the time I was half way through the bottle, it didn’t burn anymore…and my cough was gone!  Go figure.  I was also quite a bit more “mellow.”  I also discovered Ms. Southworth’s algebra class was going a bit smoother also.  

I drank quite a bit of that ‘stuff’ my junior year; not realizing what it really was, or how addictive it was.  It may have cured my cough, but it also activated my disease… oh well – part of the journey.

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Heartbreaking…

Things like this are just heartbreaking to me…

This is a ‘Randolph jet,’ a T-38A.  I actually flew this very jet; the last time being 9 Sept. 1987.  And now it sits in the “Boneyard;” at Davis-Monthan AFB, AZ – on a pallet.  This sucks.

When I take pause here with this picture, it dawns on me that most of the jets I flew on active duty (if not all), are in the Boneyard.

T-37s?  Yep.  T-38A’s?  Yep.  C-141As?  Oh yeah.  HC-130H/P/Ns?  Yep…  The F-111s I flew in Australia have been buried in one of their deserts.  And I’m 65…

I have lent some thought to this.  Do I want to be buried in a family plot here in Whitehouse?  Oh, Hell no!  I would like to be cremated, then have my ashes scattered in the desert; in the Boneyard; in the T-38A section.

Would the “Authorities” allow this?  Oh Hell no!  So, I’ve asked my son to put me in his pocket and take a “tour” of the Boneyard someday…and when no one is looking, just scatter me around the ’38s.  Kinda like they scattered dirt from the tunnels in “The Great Escape.”  That would be cool…and fitting for me.

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Blink Colonel! Gawd-dammit, Blink!

In the mid-70s, Col. Tom M. was the Commander of the 71st Flying Training Wing at Vance AFB, OK.  I was the Chief of Safety at the time.

Once a week Col. M. held a staff meeting.  Lt. Col Clyde Williams, who was the Chief of Functional Check Flight (FCF) and I would often walk over to Wing Headquarters together.  One day Clyde just happened to ask, “Have you ever noticed how ‘Larry, Curly and Moe,’ our ‘pet’ names for the three squadron commanders, all rock their heads in unison when Col. M. speaks?”  I hadn’t, but sure enough, they did!

When Col. M. would “get going” on an issue of some kind, all 3 squadron commander’s heads would either rock or shake in unison – in agreement with Col. M.  It was hilarious!  They looked like 3 cute, little Kewpie dolls…

Not to be outdone, on the way back that day, I asked Clyde if he ever noticed that, when Col. M. would get “charged up” about something or another, he never blinked!  I was in his office one day and he was “spinning up.”  For some reason or another, I just happened to notice his eyes.  They were bulging – and he wasn’t blinking!  He must have gone on for 4 or 5 minutes or so, and didn’t blink once.  And my eyes began watering!  To this day, I have no idea what he was ‘railing about’ that day; all I could think about was, “Blink Colonel!  Gawd-dammit, Blink!”  It was tough sitting there… it was killing me!

A couple-3 days later, Clyde stormed into my office and said, “Damn it Holliker, you are right – Col. M. doesn’t blink!”  He went on to tell me how hard it was to sit there, while he was having his ass chewed, and not laugh!  And all Clyde could think of was, “Blink Colonel, Gawd-dammit, blink!”

Before Clyde left that day he asked me not to share any more observations about Col. M….

 

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A Drunk’s Perspective on Whitney Houston…

I am watching all the media “hype” associated with the death of Whitney Houston somewhat with “amazement,” I suppose.  I am to the point now, when something about it comes on TV, I walk out of the room… this whole thing has been gnawing at me.

I have heard reports that upwards of 70,000 folks will be attending her “private” funeral – and that the blessed event will be streamed on the internet.   The governor of New Jersey has commanded that flags be flown at half-staff… really?  

There is no doubt that her death is a “tragedy,” but not from the perspective being presented.  It’s had been kind of interesting to hear “celebrities” and “talking heads” share their takes on her death; about how sad it is, how tragic it is and so forth.  But I am seeing it from a different view – that of a recovering alcoholic.  There was a time when I was where Ms. Houston was, perhaps just before she stepped in the tub…

What comes to my mind however is something I heard very early on in my Air Force career.  While it has to do with flying, it also conveys a very strong perspective with respect to drunks.     

                                            The Troop Who Rides One In

                                    “We should all bear one thing in mind
                                 when we talk about a troop who rode one in.
                                         He called upon the sum of all his
                                       knowledge and made a judgement.
                                        He believed in it so strongly that
                                          he knowingly bet his life on it.

                                   That he was mistaken in his judgement
                                              is a tragedy…not stupidity.
                                     Every supervisor and contemporary
                                         who ever spoke to him had an
                                 opportunity to influence his judgement.

                                         …so a little bit of all of us
                                 goes in with every troop we lose.”
                                                                                           Author Unknown

So, with each of those 70,000 folks attending Whitney’s funeral, I wonder how many of them took the opportunity to express their concern about her drinking, and “using.”  I don’t know if it would have made a difference; probably not.    But I hope that every one of those 70,000 folks who attend her private funeral, and the people who watch via the internet, take pause, and reflect – did I say something to her, about her drinking?  Would it had made a difference?  Who knows? Perhaps, not.  But we will never know, will we?

In my 20 years of drinking in the Air Force only 1 guy ever had the courage to say something to me about my drinking – to my face.  He didn’t do it maliciously; he said what he wanted to say with love.  I know that now, but at the time,I couldn’t “hear him.”  Maybe if I had heard it from a few more of you out there it would have made a difference – we’ll just never know.  I know I will spend the rest of my life looking for Dennis Bell; to thank him for his courage to tell me what he had to say…

There is a program in the Air Force about being a “Wingman;” and I think it’s a very good program – if used as it’s been designed.  Show your concern for the folks you work with; for the folks who work for, and on occasion, the folks you work for.  I had the occasion once to “speak openly” with a boss I really respected, and yes, loved.  We were at a 2-week course in Southern California and I told him of my concern for him – at the bar.  He asked exactly what I had to say, and I went on to tell him I would tell him more, when I was sober.  He in turn, invited me over to his room the next day to watch a football game.  When I showed up, he asked about “my concern.”

I sucked in a breath, then I began.  I told him how I knew how much he wanted to be a general officer (he was a colonel at the time – me, a major).  The I told him why I thought he would never make it.  I told him he drank too much.  “God damn it, Bob,” he replied, “I know it!  I know it!”  He then went over to his refrigerator, and poured a glass of straight vodka!  I could see how tormenting it was to him… I don’t know if this ever had any influence on him, but it sure did on me!  I also, was “tormented” with my drinking for the rest of my “drinking career.”  Aside:  John never did make general, but he did get sober!  On his own…

Once someone tells you something, you can not “unknown it” anymore.  You hear something enough, it has to begin having an effect – like it or not.  

So what am I advocating here?  Take a “positive” from Whitney Houston’s death.  Be a “wingman;” be a friend.  If you see someone suffering from drinking, say something – in private at first.  Own it yourself.  I never want to ever hear someone say something to the effect, “I always knew he/she had a problem with drinking; we all knew it.”  Then did you say something to that individual (you dumb shit? – (my words)).  At the end of my drinking, I was incapable of taking care of myself – and I didn’t care anymore.          

I am saddened by Ms. Houston’s death for sure; but not any more or any less than any other person who dies of alcoholism.  Whitney was 48 when she stepped into that tub last week and died; I was 48 when I stumbled into that Lutheran church 17 years ago, and cried for help… it’s all about ‘”choices.”

To my supervisors, to my peers, to my contemporaries who ever influenced my judgement – I am so grateful this morning.  For there, but for the Grace of God, go I…. Thank you!

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And So I Wonder…

…why could the Romans build a road, the Appian Way, that has lasted over 2,000 years – and we can not build a road that lasts 20 years!  And we have college-educated engineers designing our highways!  

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Dreams…

“Dreams are not so different from deeds as some may think.  All the deeds of men are only dreams at first.  And in the end, their deeds dissolve into dreams.”  Theodore Herzl, “Old New Land,” 1902.

I have found this so very true.  As a kid I continually dreamed of being an Air Force pilot.  Never wanted to be a doctor, or a lawyer.  Firefighter?  Nope.  Community organizer?  Hell, no!  I just wanted to fly – and for the USAF.  No desire to be an airline pilot either.  Air Force pilot.  Fighter pilot.  That’s all.

I was so very, very fortunate.  I flew for 18 of 20 years on active duty.  And I had a ball! So much of what you see here on my blog is an expression of my gratitude for having had the honor and privilege of flying for the Air Force.  And today, that brief experience has dissolved once again, into “dreams.”

Although I flew commercially for 17 years, I have hardly ever dreamed of airline flying.  To put this in perspective I never got off an airliner and “”high-fived” either the captain, or first officer because of a “shit-hot” ILS (instrument approach)!  Just didn’t happen.  But I have flown many, many missions – in my dreams – in all sorts of Air Force aircraft.  And the missions are almost as fun as they were ‘real life.’

So now, as I coast into my “golden years.” I find I hold the same “innocent, little boy” enthusiasm I once held as a child for Air Force flying.  And today, I know I will never “strap on” another jet – but I can still dream… 

 

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A Puppy, and A House…

I had ‘badgered ‘Dear Ole Dad’ for a puppy, for years.  At 9 or 10, it couldn’t have been that many years, but just the same…  Finally, after we moved on base, at Davis-Monthan (DM) AFB. AZ (Tucson), Dear Ole Dad finally acquiesced, and I got a puppy.

I loved that mutt!  Fed him, played with him and slept with him – for all of 3 weeks, when we received orders to Ramey AFB, Puerto Rico – and I had to ‘get rid of him…’  Never was able to have another dog as I was growing up, but Dear Ole Dad always had a stupid cat around the house.

A couple years ago I had occasion to visit D-M once again.  I checked into the Visiting Officer’s Quarters, settled in, and took off to find our old house.  A quick stop by the desk got me headed in the right direction.

It was a beautiful evening for walking, and I could feel the excitement growing within me as I got closer to our street.  I noticed some new construction along the way, but didn’t really think that much more about it, until I turned on our street – Cass Avenue.  There were hardly any houses!  When I finally reached where our house used to sit, it was gone!  Just an empty lot remained, behind a chain-link fence.  My house,

…was gone!  I just stood there, looking at an empty desert lot – and I felt ’empty.’  It was as if part of my childhood never was.  It wasn’t a ‘great house,’ by any measure, but it was our house – it was my house.  And now, gone.  

Empty; and long I stood there…just staring, not knowing what to think.  I think ‘they’ call it ‘progress.’

In 2006 I retired.  The first thing I did was, I bought a dog!  (I had recently been ‘de-married,’ and I traveled a great deal with my job.  No way could I have had a dog when I was working.)  I love this dog, as I did the dog above.

And no one will take Jake from me!

I also have a nice house that is more than a ‘house;’ it’s a home.  I have lived here longer than I have anywhere else.  I don’t see myself leaving until “my Final Flight West…”  And, okay, yes – I also have  a stupid cat… 

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Recognition for the Service and Sacrifices of Military ‘Brats’

Cowboy outfits from the 1950sIn Dec. 2009, I began reading “Military Brats: Legacies of Childhood Inside the Fortress,” by Mary Edwards Wertsch, again.  I say ‘again’ as I had attempted to read it several times before, and kept getting stuck in Pat Conroy’s Introduction – my eyes often clouded with tears.

This time I was bound and determined to get further; but in the end, I was unable to.  When I got to the part where Conroy talks about a parade, and mentions, “…they would thank us for the first time,” the tears returned.  Then I thought to myself, “Beyond our fathers recognizing and thanking us for ‘our service,’ why hasn’t America – the nation we served – ever recognized our sacrifices and service?”

And the wheels were set in motion…

I fired off an email to my U.S. Representative suggesting he introduce legislation for a Congressional medal, recognizing the service and sacrifices of military brats.  Five hours later, I received a call from one of his “horse holders” (staff) wanting to know more about my idea.  As I further explained it, I discovered I was actually talking to an Army Brat!  He knew of what I spoke, and liked the concept.

After numerous emails and phone conversations, Congressman Bob Latta (R, Ohio’s 5th District) introduced legislation to recognize the dependent children of military service members through the presentation of an official lapel button.  (They dropped the term “Military Brats.”  They didn’t want to offend anyone.  As an Air Force ‘Brat,’ I have certainly been called worse!) 

This is his first bill:
http://www.govtrack.us/congress/bill.xpd?bill=h111-5333 .
It made it as far as “committee,” then died along with the 111st Congress.  The official explanation was that “we already had recognition.”  Oh yeah?  Where?  (We don’t.)

So I asked Congressman Latta to reintroduce the bill.  He did on 10 March 2011 as H.R. 1014:  http://www.govtrack.us/congress/bill.xpd?bill=h112-1014.
It now languishes “in committee.”

This is a simple proposal – a win-win-win proposal: a win for our kids, a win for our nation, and of course, a win for our politicians.  The way the bill is structured, the cost of the pins won’t contribute in any way to the national deficit.  Parents (and others) will purchase and present them to kids who have been ‘brats.’   When this bill becomes law however, I will never allow some deserving kid to go without a pin even if I have to spend my last nickel!  But I digress…

When the bill became ‘rat-holed’ again this year, I almost gave up.  Then I discovered the 112th Congress passed legislation to remove sodomy and bestiality from the Uniform Code of Military Justice  (To be ‘fair and balanced,’ they later dropped the initiative to amend the UCMJ), and, in another piece of legislation, authorized the slaughter of horses for human consumption.  YGBSM!  This lunacy has just emboldened me to press on!

Our Congress has, at one time or another, recognized almost everyone else on the planet.  Why not Military Brats?  Pat Conroy makes several other very poignant points in his Introduction, among them:

“We grew up strangers to ourselves,”
   and
“Our greatest tragedy is that we don’t know each other.”

Imagine what a simple lapel pin could do for us? 

When I see deployments today, when I see funeral services today, when I see returning troops today – I tend to focus on the kids; often the kids in the background, silently serving.  I know them.  I ‘was there,’ a long time ago.  Then I see the politicians glad-handing everyone around them, often ‘capitalizing’ on those same kids.  So I wonder; why can’t they get off their asses, and pass ‘our’ bill?  It’s not like they are accomplishing anything else …     

Imagining the Future
I envision military service members calling their kids together and handing each one of them a Congressional Lapel Pin as a token of appreciation.  It’s a small acknowledgement from both the service members and our Nation.  Commanding officers might use the pins to honor a child, or a grandparent might give a pin as special recognition when mom or dad is deployed.  Even politicians might make presentations when ‘brats’ visit their offices or participate in special programs.

I also hope to see the day when two “strangers” instantly recognize each other through the lapel pins they are wearing.  The pins will ignite new friendships through “chatter,” because of a common heritage – Were you Army?  Navy?  Air Force?  Marines?  Coast Guard?  Where were you?  When?  Did you know… and so forth …

Maybe, someday; hopefully, soon …

What can you do?  Write, call or email your US Representative and/or Senator and ask him/her to support H.R. 1014… Thank you!

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The T-38 Ride: Part V – Implementation, Resentment and Satisfaction

If memory serves, the T-38 Stall/Sink Rate ride was implemented into the T-38 PIT syllabus in early 1987.  Rick and I both felt a deep sense of satisfaction.  This was not an easy thing to do – create a ride and have it accepted into the program.  First we had to convince Command of “the need.”  Then we had to “find a place” for the ride.  Every ride in the program had to be justified for the dollar cost.  To create a space for our ride, something else had to be dropped.  And to make it “ungraded,” unheard of – bordering upon blasphemy!  But we did it.  As I mentioned earlier, the strength of the proposal was in the merit of the fundamental premise itself:  If our current stall training was ‘adequate,’ why we were still loosing jets and people?  The “college boys” at Command just couldn’t refute that simple observation…

My goal in developing this ride was NOT to bring recognition unto myself.  It was to “give back” to a system that gave me so much over the years.  I have always felt it an “honor” and a “privilege” to fly jets for the United States Air Force.  And for the 18 years I was actively engaged in flying for the USAF, I never lost sight of this.  This being said, it is always nice to receive some recognition for what you contribute…

In an OER (Officer Effectiveness Rating) rendered in Apr 1987, there was a 1-line comment in the “Plan and Organize Work” block.  “Helped design the T-38 stall/sink rate orientation program, which will save both lives and aircraft.”  Helped?  Are you shitting me?  From initial conception through implementation, this whole program was my idea.  Totally.  Sure I had help along the way, but to have my part reduced to that of a ‘bit player in a Woody Allen movie’ was insulting.  (Wonder if I could get that OER corrected?  lol!).  At the time, I was ‘well into’ my alcoholism, so rather than approach the rater, I just fueled a resentment deep in my belly – and I carried that resentment for many years!  Gave me yet another excuse to drink…

I think in 1987 Rick and I were nominated for the prestigious Air Force Association Hoyt S. Vandenberg Award.  We lost – to a ‘shoeclerk.’  More ‘resentment’…

On the ‘positive side,’ what remains with me today, are the many, many affirmative comments I personally received from those I flew with on that orientation ride, and others along the way.  One Lt. collared me in the ‘Auger Inn’ after I retired.  (He had been one of my “challenges” when I was the 12th Student Squadron Commander.)  He pulled me aside and said something to the effect, “Col. Holliker, that stall ride saved my ass earlier in the week.  I was in the final turn and had allowed the student to get too slow.  Then I recognized the sink rate we were falling into and was able to recover.  I don’t know if I would have seen it if I hadn’t have had that ride at PIT.”  What can you say?  It was very kind of him to say something to me that night, and something I have carried with me ever since.

From my experience in Flight Safety I learned that we don’t keep track of ‘accidents prevented.’  How many accidents has this ride prevented over the years?  Who knows?  I can tell you though, that since this ride was incorporated into the T-38 PIT syllabus, we have not lost another jet, or aircrew in a traffic pattern stall/sink rate related accident – that I know of.  And of this, I am very ‘satisfied’…

PS:  To wrap this up, I also need to mention that I also used the proposal I presented to HQ ATC as my exit paper in my Master’s degree program.  How cool was that?  (Got an “A” btw.).

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The T-38 Stall Ride: Part IV – The Paper Trail

It so turned out that T-38 Stall Training was a “Special Emphasis Item” for the 1985 HQ ATC Stan/Eval inspection cycle, and we “hit it out of the park!”  In Jul 1985, Nick A., the Director of ATC Stan/Eval, began promoting the ride through Command Headquarters, receiving very positive responses.  I wasn’t ready to formally propose the ride until September of that year.

Here my mind ‘fades’ a bit, and I have lost the ‘paper trail.’  I think it took about 17 – 18 months for the proposal to work its way through Command until it was formally integrated into the T-38 PIT syllabus.  By that time I had moved on from Stan/Eval, and Rick L. took over the responsibility for monitoring its progress.  Make no mistake, I was also watching it from my new position as the 12th Student Squadron Commander.

With Rick on board, we continually refined the ride until we had a product we felt gave the student a real appreciation for the T-38 stall and sink rate characteristics.  We intentionally made it an “ungraded ride,” and a ride flown exclusively with 12th Stan/Eval T-38 flight examiners (FEs) as instructors.  I deliberately specified this to control the quality of the instruction.  I also directed that my FEs approach the ride with an attitude of, “Here, let me take you out and maybe show you something about the jet you may not have known…”  And, as important, to make it a “fun” ride for the student.

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