After my "sunrise moment" near Deming, New Mexico (described in the prior post) I continued west across Arizona on I-10 and into California, eventually stopping for the night at a Holiday Inn somewhere on the east edge of the Los Angeles metro area. (It might have been in San Bernardino). I remember choosing it because it was the closest one to L.A. that was still relatively affordable.
I did have a memorable "glitch" the next morning:
My 68 Barracuda convertible had this weird problem where if you started it first thing in the morning and then shut it off after a minute or two it would refuse to start again. (Any other time it would start just fine)... It drove me nuts because I couldn't find anything wrong. I rebuilt the carburetor - the choke was adjusted properly - the vacuum pull-off was working. Even "twiddling" the choke by hand didn't help... I never did figure out what was causing it, but since the problem was easy to avoid I didn't sweat it...
Then the next morning when I left the Holiday Inn I completely forgot. I drove around the corner to a gas station and shut it off... The station was incredibly busy given that it was 5 o'clock in the morning, so when the car wouldn't start after being filled up I had to push it away from the pumps. I keep trying to start it every couple of minutes (I was really worried about running the battery down), then after about 15 minutes it started like nothing had happened and I got back underway.
Aside: As I've mentioned in my prior posts, this was shortly after the start of the Arab oil embargo, and as I approached California the gas prices had started to climb... By the time I got to L.A. it was up around 60 cents a gallon (more than twice what I had paid in Texas two days earlier). But I still hadn't encountered any shortages.
I don't remember very much about the rest of the trip north... It had only been 15 months since I had driven up and down the entire length of I-5 (the road trip from hell) so there was nothing new to see... I don't even think I swung past McClellan AFB (my next assignment) as I passed though Sacramento on my way home to Eugene...
I'm pretty sure I spent that night at the Holiday Inn in Redding, California. That was where Bernie (my sister's ex-husband) lived, but didn't stop by to see him... I was too close to home to waste time socializing :-)
The main thing I recall from the next day is that by the time I got to the Oregon border gas had climbed to $1 a gallon - if you could find any... Everywhere else along my route you could get all the gas you wanted, but Oregon had run dry... (It sure seemed to me like there was some manipulation going on.)
I had also been worried about encountering snow on Siskiyou Summit, but (once again) my luck held out and the only problem I encountered the rest of the way to Eugene was that all the gas stations were closed.
Actually, I was headed a few miles further north... As I've mentioned before, my mom had recently moved from the apartment in Eugene to a lovely little rental house in Coburg, Oregon. I don't think there was anything wrong with the old place. She just couldn't stand to stay anywhere for very long...
Aside: You'd think that someone who had been forced to flee her birthplace during WWII would want to settle down somewhere, but not mom... That was just one of the many things I never understood about her... I guess the point is that (to us) home was more about being with loved ones than being in any particular place...
Finally... Shortly before noon on Sunday December 2nd 1973 (almost exactly 5 days after leaving Keesler AFB in Mississippi), I pulled into mom's driveway (running on fumes) at the end of North Willamette Street in Coburg.
It was good to be home.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Sunrise
The date was November 29, 1973 and (having just completed tech school at Keesler AFB in Mississippi) I was on my way home to Eugene, Oregon for my first extended leave since joining the Air Force in February.
I left Argyle, Texas (my prior stop) early that morning headed for Deming, New Mexico (where I had a reservation at the Holiday Inn)... The distance was over 700 hundred miles, but since it was Interstate through the plains and desert I figured I could make it in a lot less time than my self-imposed daily limit of 12 hours. (They didn't enforce the speed limit on rural interstates back then.)
To be honest, I don't remember a darn thing from that day's drive (there's nothing more boring than driving across west Texas), but I remember arriving in Deming in the late afternoon (as planned), and after checking in and having dinner at the hotel restaurant I spent the rest of the evening lounging around in front of the TV...
Aside: Before I left Keesler I was concerned about gas availability because the Arab oil embargo had been in effect for 6 weeks, but there were no worries so far. Gas was plentiful and dirt cheap (less that 30 cents a gallon).
Now - before I get to the next part of the story I want to say a few words about breakfast - namely that back in those days I rarely ate one... Yeah - I had gotten into the habit of skipping breakfast when I was 13 years old, and (with the exception of basic training) I didn't start again until after I got married... Of course, during basic I didn't have a choice. (And you'd have to be crazy to skip meals when doing something that physically demanding.) But the point is that my travel plans did not include breakfast. The idea was to get up, get dressed, get in the car and drive.
It was still pitch black out when I got onto Interstate 10 westbound the next morning (November 30th). And after about a half hour or so I started (inexplicably) feeling a bit peckish, so when I saw the Stuckey's sign at the next exit I stopped to grab a snack...
Now for those who are unaware, "Stuckey's" was a combination gas station, restaurant and candy store that was always open... Back in those days there were Stuckey's locations all over the country, but for some reason they almost all disappeared within the next decade... But none of that has anything to do with the story at hand :-)
When I stepped up to the counter I had absolutely no idea what to order, but after perusing the menu board for a minute or two I realized that what I wanted more than anything in the world at that particular moment was a chocolate milkshake (I hadn't had one in a really long time), so that's what I got...
Yeah - it must have been an odd thing to order at 5:30 AM, because I remember the waitress staring at me with a puzzled expression on her face for a couple of seconds before saying "ok..." and heading off to make my milkshake... Then it was back on the freeway.
All of this leads up to one of those amazing moments that I've never forgotten:
To begin with, I had been under stress since the age of 12 - constantly moving from place to place at the whim of my mother and sister - always trying to be the "voice of reason" but never having any say. And during all those years every penny I had went to the household - I couldn't afford myself even the simplest pleasures... Then I joined the Air Force and spent the next 10 months surrounded by TIs (training instructors) subject to the rigors of military life... And finally, just a few days earlier I had graduated with honors from one of the most academically challenging tech schools in the Air Force... It was the most significant accomplishment of my life up to that point.
So it came to pass that I found myself cruising across the New Mexico desert with the top down and the cold early morning air wafting around me. Everything I could see was bathed in the reds and purples of the pre-dawn light, and I was sipping on the best milkshake I could ever recall having... And that's when it hit me.
Everything I had gone through in past 8 years was finally over. I suddenly felt a sense of peace and well-being that I had never experienced before... Nothing could have made the moment more perfect.
And that's the "sunrise" story :-)
I left Argyle, Texas (my prior stop) early that morning headed for Deming, New Mexico (where I had a reservation at the Holiday Inn)... The distance was over 700 hundred miles, but since it was Interstate through the plains and desert I figured I could make it in a lot less time than my self-imposed daily limit of 12 hours. (They didn't enforce the speed limit on rural interstates back then.)
To be honest, I don't remember a darn thing from that day's drive (there's nothing more boring than driving across west Texas), but I remember arriving in Deming in the late afternoon (as planned), and after checking in and having dinner at the hotel restaurant I spent the rest of the evening lounging around in front of the TV...
Aside: Before I left Keesler I was concerned about gas availability because the Arab oil embargo had been in effect for 6 weeks, but there were no worries so far. Gas was plentiful and dirt cheap (less that 30 cents a gallon).
Now - before I get to the next part of the story I want to say a few words about breakfast - namely that back in those days I rarely ate one... Yeah - I had gotten into the habit of skipping breakfast when I was 13 years old, and (with the exception of basic training) I didn't start again until after I got married... Of course, during basic I didn't have a choice. (And you'd have to be crazy to skip meals when doing something that physically demanding.) But the point is that my travel plans did not include breakfast. The idea was to get up, get dressed, get in the car and drive.
It was still pitch black out when I got onto Interstate 10 westbound the next morning (November 30th). And after about a half hour or so I started (inexplicably) feeling a bit peckish, so when I saw the Stuckey's sign at the next exit I stopped to grab a snack...
Now for those who are unaware, "Stuckey's" was a combination gas station, restaurant and candy store that was always open... Back in those days there were Stuckey's locations all over the country, but for some reason they almost all disappeared within the next decade... But none of that has anything to do with the story at hand :-)
When I stepped up to the counter I had absolutely no idea what to order, but after perusing the menu board for a minute or two I realized that what I wanted more than anything in the world at that particular moment was a chocolate milkshake (I hadn't had one in a really long time), so that's what I got...
Yeah - it must have been an odd thing to order at 5:30 AM, because I remember the waitress staring at me with a puzzled expression on her face for a couple of seconds before saying "ok..." and heading off to make my milkshake... Then it was back on the freeway.
All of this leads up to one of those amazing moments that I've never forgotten:
To begin with, I had been under stress since the age of 12 - constantly moving from place to place at the whim of my mother and sister - always trying to be the "voice of reason" but never having any say. And during all those years every penny I had went to the household - I couldn't afford myself even the simplest pleasures... Then I joined the Air Force and spent the next 10 months surrounded by TIs (training instructors) subject to the rigors of military life... And finally, just a few days earlier I had graduated with honors from one of the most academically challenging tech schools in the Air Force... It was the most significant accomplishment of my life up to that point.
So it came to pass that I found myself cruising across the New Mexico desert with the top down and the cold early morning air wafting around me. Everything I could see was bathed in the reds and purples of the pre-dawn light, and I was sipping on the best milkshake I could ever recall having... And that's when it hit me.
Everything I had gone through in past 8 years was finally over. I suddenly felt a sense of peace and well-being that I had never experienced before... Nothing could have made the moment more perfect.
And that's the "sunrise" story :-)
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Stormy Weather
Back in 1973 there weren't any major highways between Biloxi and Jackson, so when I headed north out of Keesler AFB in the early afternoon of November 27th the only things that stood between me and Interstate 20 were 170 miles of rural roads and some epic bad weather...
As I mentioned in my prior post, people were being advised not to travel, and a quick check of the historical records reveals that there were 7 tornadoes resulting in 4 deaths and 75 injures (not to mention countless severe thunderstorms) in Mississippi that day... And I was dumb enough to drive through it.
In the decades since, I have attempted to describe to people how heavy the rain was, and they typically respond with "Yeah - I've driven in rain like that"... Ummm, no... you haven't... (Not unless you've been on the Gulf Coast during a major storm.) A few years ago I was on a freeway in Portland when there was an all-time record setting downpour. Compared to what I experienced that day in Mississippi it was a light sprinkle.
Then people always ask why I didn't pull over... Pull over where??? As if I could see where the shoulder was (or that I'd be less likely to get tail-ended there)... Heck - there were times I couldn't see past the end of my hood. I had to roll down my window and look straight down to try and catch a glimpse of the yellow line... In retrospect I was lucky that most folks heeded the advisories and stayed home. The roads were pretty much deserted (except for a single idiot G.I. in a 68 Barracuda convertible) and I made it through without incident.
By the time I reached Jackson it was 5:30 PM. The weather had finally cleared but it had taken me over 5 hours to get there (2 hours longer than expected). Then as I was heading west through downtown on Interstate 20 I saw one of the weirdest things I've ever seen on a freeway:
I was in the far left lane of a 4 lane stretch (3 plus an exit lane) when the car in front of me suddenly came to a complete stop and put on his right turn signal (apparently that was his exit)... Here's the weird part: The other 3 lanes of traffic immediately stopped and let him make a right turn across the freeway - as if that kind of thing happened all the time... I didn't stop laughing for 10 minutes...
As I headed out of Jackson it was already getting dark and I was still 400 miles from my destination. I didn't stop for dinner, but I did fill up around Monroe Louisiana (the Barracuda had roughly a 330 mile range). I briefly considered stopping for the night in Shreveport, but since I was going to spend the next day resting anyway I decided to just grit it out.
The only other thing I remember from the that evening is how creepy it felt driving through the bayou late at night. The windows were down (I was trying to stay awake and dry the car out), there didn't seem to be another vehicle on the road, and (for some reason) the shadows of the mossy trees just sent chills down my spine...
It was around 2AM when I finally pulled into the McDaniels driveway. Stella had waited up for me (although she didn't seem particularly worried)... Their son Stephen (a couple of years younger than me) had recently gotten married so she set me up in his old room, and for the first time in 5 months I didn't have to sleep on a military bunk.
When I (finally) got up the next day I made the rounds of the people I used to hang out with with when I lived there. Turns out not much had changed in the year and a half since I'd left Argyle... I spent a bit of time with Brenda (the young lady who called me "the best buddy a girl could ask for"). To tell the truth, now that I was a bit older I found her a little bit irritating :-)
Steve and his new wife (Jeannie) were away on a trip and they didn't get back until late that evening so I only saw them for a few minutes... BTW: Jeannie turned out to be a skinny little 15 year old with short red hair (Steve always did like 'em young). I'm not sure how long their marriage lasted, but when I visited again 10 years later they were divorced.
And early the next morning I set out for my next stop - Deming, New Mexico.
As I mentioned in my prior post, people were being advised not to travel, and a quick check of the historical records reveals that there were 7 tornadoes resulting in 4 deaths and 75 injures (not to mention countless severe thunderstorms) in Mississippi that day... And I was dumb enough to drive through it.
In the decades since, I have attempted to describe to people how heavy the rain was, and they typically respond with "Yeah - I've driven in rain like that"... Ummm, no... you haven't... (Not unless you've been on the Gulf Coast during a major storm.) A few years ago I was on a freeway in Portland when there was an all-time record setting downpour. Compared to what I experienced that day in Mississippi it was a light sprinkle.
Then people always ask why I didn't pull over... Pull over where??? As if I could see where the shoulder was (or that I'd be less likely to get tail-ended there)... Heck - there were times I couldn't see past the end of my hood. I had to roll down my window and look straight down to try and catch a glimpse of the yellow line... In retrospect I was lucky that most folks heeded the advisories and stayed home. The roads were pretty much deserted (except for a single idiot G.I. in a 68 Barracuda convertible) and I made it through without incident.
By the time I reached Jackson it was 5:30 PM. The weather had finally cleared but it had taken me over 5 hours to get there (2 hours longer than expected). Then as I was heading west through downtown on Interstate 20 I saw one of the weirdest things I've ever seen on a freeway:
I was in the far left lane of a 4 lane stretch (3 plus an exit lane) when the car in front of me suddenly came to a complete stop and put on his right turn signal (apparently that was his exit)... Here's the weird part: The other 3 lanes of traffic immediately stopped and let him make a right turn across the freeway - as if that kind of thing happened all the time... I didn't stop laughing for 10 minutes...
As I headed out of Jackson it was already getting dark and I was still 400 miles from my destination. I didn't stop for dinner, but I did fill up around Monroe Louisiana (the Barracuda had roughly a 330 mile range). I briefly considered stopping for the night in Shreveport, but since I was going to spend the next day resting anyway I decided to just grit it out.
The only other thing I remember from the that evening is how creepy it felt driving through the bayou late at night. The windows were down (I was trying to stay awake and dry the car out), there didn't seem to be another vehicle on the road, and (for some reason) the shadows of the mossy trees just sent chills down my spine...
It was around 2AM when I finally pulled into the McDaniels driveway. Stella had waited up for me (although she didn't seem particularly worried)... Their son Stephen (a couple of years younger than me) had recently gotten married so she set me up in his old room, and for the first time in 5 months I didn't have to sleep on a military bunk.
When I (finally) got up the next day I made the rounds of the people I used to hang out with with when I lived there. Turns out not much had changed in the year and a half since I'd left Argyle... I spent a bit of time with Brenda (the young lady who called me "the best buddy a girl could ask for"). To tell the truth, now that I was a bit older I found her a little bit irritating :-)
Steve and his new wife (Jeannie) were away on a trip and they didn't get back until late that evening so I only saw them for a few minutes... BTW: Jeannie turned out to be a skinny little 15 year old with short red hair (Steve always did like 'em young). I'm not sure how long their marriage lasted, but when I visited again 10 years later they were divorced.
And early the next morning I set out for my next stop - Deming, New Mexico.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Leaving Biloxi (Woo Hoo!)
When I woke up on the morning of November 27th, 1973 at Keesler AFB I could scarcely believe that the day had finally arrived... I was done with tech school, everything I owned was
packed into my '68 Barracuda, and I was ready to leave Biloxi behind... Furthermore, I didn't have to report to McClellan AFB (in Sacramento) until January, so I was going to be spending a month at my mom's place in Eugene, Oregon before heading south again...
The best part was that (for the first time in my life) I was about to embark on a major road trip where I was in complete control of the arrangements, and not wishing to repeat the "interesting" experiences I'd had traveling with mom and/or Karina I tried not to leave anything to chance:
1) In order to avoid any possibility of hitting winter weather I was taking the southern route (through Los Angeles).
2) I didn't want to risk falling asleep at the wheel so I was limiting myself to 12 hours (about 600 miles) a day.
3) My plan was to start driving around 5AM so I could reach my daily destination before dinner. That way I could have a leisurely meal, unwind in front of the TV for a couple of hours and still get a good night's sleep.
4) To make sure that I didn't end up lying awake all night on a lumpy mattress in some cheap motel I made reservations at Holiday Inns along the route (about $15 a night back then).
Aside: I should probably mention that planning a road trip back in 1973 was a lot more involved than it is nowadays... You had to get maps (the kind that most people couldn't fold properly) for your entire route, and you had to use a ruler and do math to estimate the driving distances... Then if you wanted to plan your overnight stays you had to get hold of the booklets published by each hotel/motel chain that listed their locations, amenities and rates... Yeah - it was kind of a pain, but I did kind of enjoy it... And I digress...
In the weeks leading up to my departure I had gone over every inch of my car to make sure it was in perfect operating condition, which reminds me of another story I forgot to tell:
One day (a couple of months earlier) I was in a hurry to get somewhere (something involving Juneau) when I noticed a puddle under the car. Yeah - my water pump was dripping. But no problem - there was a car parts place right outside the gate and I was pretty quick with a wrench so I got to work... I was in such a hurry I decided not to pull the radiator - I figured if I was really careful I could work around it without damaging it, and within 20 minutes the new pump was in and I was tightening the last fan blade bolt... That's when my box-end wench slipped off the bolt and tore a small hole in one of the radiator tubes...
Yes... My effort to save 5 minutes had ended up costing me 2 hours and $10 (mucho dinero in 1973) to get the radiator repaired... Lesson learned. I never made that mistake again.
And back to the morning of November 27th:
The car was gassed up and ready to go. All the travel arrangements had been made (and memorized). All that remained was the graduation ceremony, saying my goodbyes and hitting the road... But nothing ever goes that smoothly.
First: The Arab oil embargo had gone into effect 6 weeks earlier and there were rumors of gas shortages all over the country. (There was nothing I could do about that.)
Second: Although it was sunny in Biloxi, there were severe weather alerts (including tornadoes) for the rest of the state and we were strongly advised not to travel by car that day... Yeah - I didn't care. There was no force in heaven or hell that was going to keep me at Keesler one second longer than necessary.
Finally: After the graduation ceremony I discovered that they wouldn't let us out-process until noon because that's when our shift "officially" ended. (Seriously?) ... It didn't make much sense to me but, hey - it was the military.
I had planned on arriving in Argyle Texas (about 600 miles away) around 10 PM to spend the following day with the McDaniels (the people I lived with while my mom was in the hospital), but the later departure time meant I wouldn't get there until after midnight so I called Stella and told her not to wait up.
After graduation I sat around in my civvies anxiously twiddling my thumbs waiting to sign out. And when they finally gave us the green light I said my goodbyes, hopped in the car and headed north toward Jackson.
I can't recall ever being happier to be on my way home :-)
The best part was that (for the first time in my life) I was about to embark on a major road trip where I was in complete control of the arrangements, and not wishing to repeat the "interesting" experiences I'd had traveling with mom and/or Karina I tried not to leave anything to chance:
1) In order to avoid any possibility of hitting winter weather I was taking the southern route (through Los Angeles).
2) I didn't want to risk falling asleep at the wheel so I was limiting myself to 12 hours (about 600 miles) a day.
3) My plan was to start driving around 5AM so I could reach my daily destination before dinner. That way I could have a leisurely meal, unwind in front of the TV for a couple of hours and still get a good night's sleep.
4) To make sure that I didn't end up lying awake all night on a lumpy mattress in some cheap motel I made reservations at Holiday Inns along the route (about $15 a night back then).
Aside: I should probably mention that planning a road trip back in 1973 was a lot more involved than it is nowadays... You had to get maps (the kind that most people couldn't fold properly) for your entire route, and you had to use a ruler and do math to estimate the driving distances... Then if you wanted to plan your overnight stays you had to get hold of the booklets published by each hotel/motel chain that listed their locations, amenities and rates... Yeah - it was kind of a pain, but I did kind of enjoy it... And I digress...
In the weeks leading up to my departure I had gone over every inch of my car to make sure it was in perfect operating condition, which reminds me of another story I forgot to tell:
One day (a couple of months earlier) I was in a hurry to get somewhere (something involving Juneau) when I noticed a puddle under the car. Yeah - my water pump was dripping. But no problem - there was a car parts place right outside the gate and I was pretty quick with a wrench so I got to work... I was in such a hurry I decided not to pull the radiator - I figured if I was really careful I could work around it without damaging it, and within 20 minutes the new pump was in and I was tightening the last fan blade bolt... That's when my box-end wench slipped off the bolt and tore a small hole in one of the radiator tubes...
Yes... My effort to save 5 minutes had ended up costing me 2 hours and $10 (mucho dinero in 1973) to get the radiator repaired... Lesson learned. I never made that mistake again.
And back to the morning of November 27th:
The car was gassed up and ready to go. All the travel arrangements had been made (and memorized). All that remained was the graduation ceremony, saying my goodbyes and hitting the road... But nothing ever goes that smoothly.
First: The Arab oil embargo had gone into effect 6 weeks earlier and there were rumors of gas shortages all over the country. (There was nothing I could do about that.)
Second: Although it was sunny in Biloxi, there were severe weather alerts (including tornadoes) for the rest of the state and we were strongly advised not to travel by car that day... Yeah - I didn't care. There was no force in heaven or hell that was going to keep me at Keesler one second longer than necessary.
Finally: After the graduation ceremony I discovered that they wouldn't let us out-process until noon because that's when our shift "officially" ended. (Seriously?) ... It didn't make much sense to me but, hey - it was the military.
I had planned on arriving in Argyle Texas (about 600 miles away) around 10 PM to spend the following day with the McDaniels (the people I lived with while my mom was in the hospital), but the later departure time meant I wouldn't get there until after midnight so I called Stella and told her not to wait up.
After graduation I sat around in my civvies anxiously twiddling my thumbs waiting to sign out. And when they finally gave us the green light I said my goodbyes, hopped in the car and headed north toward Jackson.
I can't recall ever being happier to be on my way home :-)
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Another Summary
It was Tuesday, November 27th, 1973 when I completed the 30331 (Air Traffic Control Radar Repair) course at Keelser AFB in Biloxi, Mississippi. That was a significant milestone in my life, so I figure this is a good time to (once again) summarize the events leading to that point:
As I've mention numerous times before, I graduated from high school in 1970 (at the age of 16) convinced that I was neither particularly bright nor particularly useful (thank you school system)... Since the primary function of my brain seemed to be the creation of random (and semi-humorous) distractions I could never maintain focus long enough to accomplish much of anything... And despite my lifelong interest in technology it was clear from my high school math and science grades that I had absolutely no aptitude for such pursuits... It seemed like the only thing I was good at was playing my 1953 Telecaster, but since we were constantly moving from place to place I could never get established with a band.
So it came to pass that in the winter of 1972 (two and a half years after high school) I concluded that unless I did something drastic my life was going to continue to suck, so I went down to the recruiter's office and took the Air Force entrance exam... I wasn't really surprised that I got top scores (although the recruiter was so excited he almost wet himself). I had always tested well (I figured it was an "idiot savant" kind of thing).
The next thing I knew I was at Lackland AFB undergoing basic training. Up to that point my primary goal in life had been to avoid any form of pain or discomfort (when things got unpleasant I would simply quit). But in basic training quitting is not an option - the drill sergeants just make things even more unpleasant. So I learned to tough it out ... just one more step - one more pushup - and by the time basic was over there wasn't really any "quit" left in me...
Tech school brought two more things I had rarely (if ever) experienced in my life:
The first was stability. It had been a very long time since my life wasn't being constantly disrupted by circumstances outside of my control. (I can't begin to express what a relief that was).
The second was academic success. Turns out I was actually really good at math and science (apparently the pace in high school was just way too slow for me). That was a huge surprise. I graduated with honors at the top of my class without even breaking a sweat. It was (up to that point) the most significant accomplishment of my life. (The first of many.)
And there you have it :-)
But before I move on I just wanted to say a few more words about Airman Juneau (aka "The Grinch"):
Juneau and I had gone through basic training together and were roommates for most of my 8 months at Keesler, and although we had some really good times he was (for the most part) a serious pain in the ass. He drank too much, had a volatile temper, and was really annoyed that I got better grades than he did. On a couple of occasions he got so torqued off about something that I went out and slept in my car rather than deal with his sh*t. (It was impossible to have a rational discussion with him.)
He did mellow out a bit in October when he fell in love with one of the WAFs in the triangle. She was a redhead with glasses and tattoos (uncommon for a woman in the early 1970s), and was (as near as I could tell) every bit as temperamental as he was (definitely a match made in hell).
I never saw Juneau again after tech school but a few years later I ran into a sergeant who had worked with him at his first assignment and he filled me in on the rest of the story:
Apparently Juneau and the WAF got married before leaving Keesler and ended up being stationed together (I no longer recall what base). Their relationship was a constant "firestorm", and it really hit the fan one night after a huge fight when his wife called the base commander's home phone and woke him up at 3 o-clock in the morning to tell him what a jack-hole Juneau was... I don't remember what the final outcome was (other than divorce), but the story didn't surprise me in the least... Enough said...
And it's finally time to put Keelser AFB in my rear view mirror :-)
As I've mention numerous times before, I graduated from high school in 1970 (at the age of 16) convinced that I was neither particularly bright nor particularly useful (thank you school system)... Since the primary function of my brain seemed to be the creation of random (and semi-humorous) distractions I could never maintain focus long enough to accomplish much of anything... And despite my lifelong interest in technology it was clear from my high school math and science grades that I had absolutely no aptitude for such pursuits... It seemed like the only thing I was good at was playing my 1953 Telecaster, but since we were constantly moving from place to place I could never get established with a band.
So it came to pass that in the winter of 1972 (two and a half years after high school) I concluded that unless I did something drastic my life was going to continue to suck, so I went down to the recruiter's office and took the Air Force entrance exam... I wasn't really surprised that I got top scores (although the recruiter was so excited he almost wet himself). I had always tested well (I figured it was an "idiot savant" kind of thing).
The next thing I knew I was at Lackland AFB undergoing basic training. Up to that point my primary goal in life had been to avoid any form of pain or discomfort (when things got unpleasant I would simply quit). But in basic training quitting is not an option - the drill sergeants just make things even more unpleasant. So I learned to tough it out ... just one more step - one more pushup - and by the time basic was over there wasn't really any "quit" left in me...
Tech school brought two more things I had rarely (if ever) experienced in my life:
The first was stability. It had been a very long time since my life wasn't being constantly disrupted by circumstances outside of my control. (I can't begin to express what a relief that was).
The second was academic success. Turns out I was actually really good at math and science (apparently the pace in high school was just way too slow for me). That was a huge surprise. I graduated with honors at the top of my class without even breaking a sweat. It was (up to that point) the most significant accomplishment of my life. (The first of many.)
And there you have it :-)
But before I move on I just wanted to say a few more words about Airman Juneau (aka "The Grinch"):
Juneau and I had gone through basic training together and were roommates for most of my 8 months at Keesler, and although we had some really good times he was (for the most part) a serious pain in the ass. He drank too much, had a volatile temper, and was really annoyed that I got better grades than he did. On a couple of occasions he got so torqued off about something that I went out and slept in my car rather than deal with his sh*t. (It was impossible to have a rational discussion with him.)
He did mellow out a bit in October when he fell in love with one of the WAFs in the triangle. She was a redhead with glasses and tattoos (uncommon for a woman in the early 1970s), and was (as near as I could tell) every bit as temperamental as he was (definitely a match made in hell).
I never saw Juneau again after tech school but a few years later I ran into a sergeant who had worked with him at his first assignment and he filled me in on the rest of the story:
Apparently Juneau and the WAF got married before leaving Keesler and ended up being stationed together (I no longer recall what base). Their relationship was a constant "firestorm", and it really hit the fan one night after a huge fight when his wife called the base commander's home phone and woke him up at 3 o-clock in the morning to tell him what a jack-hole Juneau was... I don't remember what the final outcome was (other than divorce), but the story didn't surprise me in the least... Enough said...
And it's finally time to put Keelser AFB in my rear view mirror :-)
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Almost Gone
By the late fall of 1973 my time at Keesler AFB was nearly over... Yes, I was actually going to graduate as a fully trained 30331 (Air Traffic Control Radar Repairman).
Of course, as the day approached we were all a bit apprehensive about our first assignments. We had filled out preference cards and most of the guys asked for locations in Germany or Italy as their first choice, but after spending a year in a boarding school in Bad Godesberg I had absolutely no desire to cross the Atlantic again... No, all my preferences were as close to home as I could get.
Unfortunately, the equipment I was being trained to repair was only found at real Air Force bases (with runways and planes and all) and there hadn't been one of those in Oregon since the late 1950s. As of 1973 the only bases within a day's drive of Eugene were (in order) McChord (Tacoma), Fairchild (Spokane) and Mountain Home (Idaho), followed by Beale, McClellan, Mather and Travis down in the Sacramento area. So, I had my fingers crossed for McChord.
I was only slightly bummed when I found out I had been assigned to Nellis AFB in Nevada... I mean, being stationed on the outskirts of Las Vegas is definitely a plum assignment (especially compared to Alaska or Greenland) but I really wanted to be a bit closer to home... Then right before graduation my assignment was changed (without explanation) to the "1833rd EIS" (Electronics Installation Squadron) at McClellan AFB in Sacramento. Although it wasn't my first (or second or third) choice, at least it was within a day's drive of home... But I'm getting ahead of myself :-)
I was about to tell one final tech school story when it suddenly dawned on me that I haven't said a single word about floor buffers:
The industrial units the military uses are wondrous beasts. They weigh in at over 100 lbs with the "business end" spinning rapidly driven by a 1.5 horsepower motor. In the hands of an inexperienced operator they are a source of both great destruction and great merriment. There's nothing funnier than watching a newbie slam the buffer into the wall, or tilt the handle the wrong direction and get whacked in the nuts, or inadvertently run over the power cord - and you have to be a special kind of stupid to try and ride one (search the internet for 'floor buffer fail').
Yes - the military is obsessed with shiny floors. You wax them, you polish them, then you strip them because there's too much wax. It's a never ending cycle... The point is that if you are in the military you spend countess hours on floor maintenance... I'm tempted to go into gory detail about the finer points of buffer operation (it's actually kind of fun once you get it down) but I suspect nobody really cares, and since I don't have any particular stories to tell I figure I've already said enough.
So... As I mentioned in a prior post the radar maintenance training was broken up into sections, and at the end of each section we had to thoroughly clean the classroom which included waxing and buffing the floors (and no - this isn't a buffer story).
At the end of our very last section (our final day of school) we were prepping the room for the usual floor waxing, and just as we were stacking all the chairs out in the hallway the fire alarm went off...
Of course, everyone evacuated the building in a calm and orderly fashion, and we waited, and waited, and waited... Finally, word went around that it was a false alarm...
We were incredulous. I mean, what kind of moron would set off a false alarm in a military building? Not to mention that we were seriously angry at having wasted 20 minutes standing around on our very last day of school. That meant we were really going to have to hustle to finish the classroom before the shift ended.
So we filed back upstairs where we were informed that we were the morons who set off the alarm... Yes, when we were stacking the chairs in the hallway someone (not me) inadvertently bumped the switch...
And that's how it all ended...
Of course, as the day approached we were all a bit apprehensive about our first assignments. We had filled out preference cards and most of the guys asked for locations in Germany or Italy as their first choice, but after spending a year in a boarding school in Bad Godesberg I had absolutely no desire to cross the Atlantic again... No, all my preferences were as close to home as I could get.
Unfortunately, the equipment I was being trained to repair was only found at real Air Force bases (with runways and planes and all) and there hadn't been one of those in Oregon since the late 1950s. As of 1973 the only bases within a day's drive of Eugene were (in order) McChord (Tacoma), Fairchild (Spokane) and Mountain Home (Idaho), followed by Beale, McClellan, Mather and Travis down in the Sacramento area. So, I had my fingers crossed for McChord.
I was only slightly bummed when I found out I had been assigned to Nellis AFB in Nevada... I mean, being stationed on the outskirts of Las Vegas is definitely a plum assignment (especially compared to Alaska or Greenland) but I really wanted to be a bit closer to home... Then right before graduation my assignment was changed (without explanation) to the "1833rd EIS" (Electronics Installation Squadron) at McClellan AFB in Sacramento. Although it wasn't my first (or second or third) choice, at least it was within a day's drive of home... But I'm getting ahead of myself :-)
I was about to tell one final tech school story when it suddenly dawned on me that I haven't said a single word about floor buffers:
The industrial units the military uses are wondrous beasts. They weigh in at over 100 lbs with the "business end" spinning rapidly driven by a 1.5 horsepower motor. In the hands of an inexperienced operator they are a source of both great destruction and great merriment. There's nothing funnier than watching a newbie slam the buffer into the wall, or tilt the handle the wrong direction and get whacked in the nuts, or inadvertently run over the power cord - and you have to be a special kind of stupid to try and ride one (search the internet for 'floor buffer fail').
Yes - the military is obsessed with shiny floors. You wax them, you polish them, then you strip them because there's too much wax. It's a never ending cycle... The point is that if you are in the military you spend countess hours on floor maintenance... I'm tempted to go into gory detail about the finer points of buffer operation (it's actually kind of fun once you get it down) but I suspect nobody really cares, and since I don't have any particular stories to tell I figure I've already said enough.
So... As I mentioned in a prior post the radar maintenance training was broken up into sections, and at the end of each section we had to thoroughly clean the classroom which included waxing and buffing the floors (and no - this isn't a buffer story).
At the end of our very last section (our final day of school) we were prepping the room for the usual floor waxing, and just as we were stacking all the chairs out in the hallway the fire alarm went off...
Of course, everyone evacuated the building in a calm and orderly fashion, and we waited, and waited, and waited... Finally, word went around that it was a false alarm...
We were incredulous. I mean, what kind of moron would set off a false alarm in a military building? Not to mention that we were seriously angry at having wasted 20 minutes standing around on our very last day of school. That meant we were really going to have to hustle to finish the classroom before the shift ended.
So we filed back upstairs where we were informed that we were the morons who set off the alarm... Yes, when we were stacking the chairs in the hallway someone (not me) inadvertently bumped the switch...
And that's how it all ended...
Saturday, May 3, 2014
More Odds and Ends
I seem to have covered all the major stories I intended to tell about my times at Keelser AFB in 1973, but there's still some (mostly pointless and unrelated) stuff that doesn't fit anywhere in particular, so I'm just going to cover it here.
First story:
One day I found a tree frog on the latrine wall (no idea how it got there). It was a tiny thing - about two inches long with suction cups on its toes - totally cute (and harmless). So I took it out into the hall to show to some of the guys and I was about to turn it loose outside when somebody had the bright idea of introducing it to the WAF admin who worked in the squadron office. (Yeah - I'm not sure at what age boys outgrow the whole "scaring girls with frogs" thing, but apparently it's well into adulthood)... Since Mike (the bay rope) dropped by the office almost every day he figured he had the best chance of catching her off guard, so he headed off with the little critter to make the introductions while the rest of us remained in the dorm (going about our business)...
Mike stayed gone for a very long time... Apparently, when he set the frog down on the WAF's desk she started screaming uncontrollably and couldn't stop - she ended up not being able to breath and they had to call the paramedics... Of course, the squadron commander came running out of his office at the first scream (who would have guessed that anybody could be that afraid of amphibians?) and needless to say, he was not the slightest bit amused - Mike ended up in in a fair bit of trouble...
What's the point of the story? Heck if I know, other than it would make an excellent hypothetical for a tort law class (IIED). But you'll be happy to know that the frog was completely unharmed (except maybe for some hearing loss from all the screaming) and was returned to its "natural" environment :-)
Next story:
There were 3 chow halls in the triangle (one was right next to our dorm), and one day some of us happened to eat at a different hall and discovered that although they all served the exact same menu there was a significant difference in edibility.
So my baymates and I made a habit of regularly stopping by the other chow halls and (over time) we compiled a list of where to eat depending on what was being served... BTW: No particular chow hall was consistently better than the others - each had good and bad fare (ours had french toast so greasy it wasn't fit for consumption). But on any given day there was reasonably good chow to be had if you were willing to walk a bit.
So why do I remember all of this? Because of the way people reacted when they discovered we had gone through the trouble of figuring it all out... Like, we'd see some guy heading for the nearby chow hall and we'd be like "Dude! Are you crazy? They're serving such-and-such - you seriously need to go to the north chow hall!" and he'd get this half-puzzled, half-amazed look on his face. Yeah - I don't think it ever dawned on most guys that they were allowed to eat at other chow halls let alone that the food quality varied... And that's yet another story with no real point - just more memories about being an "old timer" at Keesler.
And a semi-related one:
I'm surprised at how few memories I have of actually eating in the chow halls (I guess when you do something every day it just doesn't stick around in your brain) but there is one particular ketchup related incident I remember quite clearly - it was one of those "how stupid can you get" things:
One day I was eating lunch and was about to put some ketchup on my fries when I noticed that the "tear here" arrow was pointing to the middle of the packet... I remember being totally puzzled by it. I mean, why on earth would anyone design a ketchup packet that opened in the middle??? The packet didn't appear to be different from any other ketchup packet, but I figured "Why would they tell you to open it in the middle unless that's where it was supposed to be opened?"... So - after one heck of lot of effort I managed to tear it open and the ketchup ended up everywhere but on my fries.
I was seriously pissed off... Not only had some moron designed a ketchup packet to open in the middle, but the darn things didn't work for sh*t! (How rude...) Then I flipped the packet over and realized that the fast food logo on it was mislocated by almost half the length of the packet... Yeah - the Air Force had picked up some misprinted ketchup packets for cheap...
So, why did I actually try to open a ketchup packet in the middle just because that's where the arrow was pointing? And what kind of person would even notice the arrow in the first place? Why do I remember it so clearly after 41 years??? All good questions :-)
Moving on:
By the end of that summer I'd pretty much concluded that the Air Force was a typical mindless, and inefficient bureaucracy.Then in mid-October OPEC announced an oil embargo (the one that led to the infamous gas crisis), and a couple of weeks later I saw President Nixon on the evening news announcing an "energy independence initiative" that included reducing energy use in government buildings.
When I got to school the next morning I discovered that half of the fluorescent tubes had been removed from every light fixture in Cody Hall (a big building) and it was the same in every building I was in that day... Yes... Within a matter of hours an order had gone from the White House to the Pentagon to every military installation in the U.S. resulting in hundreds of thousands of tubes being removed from light fixtures literally overnight. I was absolutely blown away... From that point on I never doubted the military's ability to mobilize on a moments notice. (Lesson learned.)
So, I guess that's enough for now... Over the next couple of posts I'll try to wrap up "tech school" so I can move on to my one and only assignment in the "real" Air Force.
First story:
One day I found a tree frog on the latrine wall (no idea how it got there). It was a tiny thing - about two inches long with suction cups on its toes - totally cute (and harmless). So I took it out into the hall to show to some of the guys and I was about to turn it loose outside when somebody had the bright idea of introducing it to the WAF admin who worked in the squadron office. (Yeah - I'm not sure at what age boys outgrow the whole "scaring girls with frogs" thing, but apparently it's well into adulthood)... Since Mike (the bay rope) dropped by the office almost every day he figured he had the best chance of catching her off guard, so he headed off with the little critter to make the introductions while the rest of us remained in the dorm (going about our business)...
Mike stayed gone for a very long time... Apparently, when he set the frog down on the WAF's desk she started screaming uncontrollably and couldn't stop - she ended up not being able to breath and they had to call the paramedics... Of course, the squadron commander came running out of his office at the first scream (who would have guessed that anybody could be that afraid of amphibians?) and needless to say, he was not the slightest bit amused - Mike ended up in in a fair bit of trouble...
What's the point of the story? Heck if I know, other than it would make an excellent hypothetical for a tort law class (IIED). But you'll be happy to know that the frog was completely unharmed (except maybe for some hearing loss from all the screaming) and was returned to its "natural" environment :-)
Next story:
There were 3 chow halls in the triangle (one was right next to our dorm), and one day some of us happened to eat at a different hall and discovered that although they all served the exact same menu there was a significant difference in edibility.
So my baymates and I made a habit of regularly stopping by the other chow halls and (over time) we compiled a list of where to eat depending on what was being served... BTW: No particular chow hall was consistently better than the others - each had good and bad fare (ours had french toast so greasy it wasn't fit for consumption). But on any given day there was reasonably good chow to be had if you were willing to walk a bit.
So why do I remember all of this? Because of the way people reacted when they discovered we had gone through the trouble of figuring it all out... Like, we'd see some guy heading for the nearby chow hall and we'd be like "Dude! Are you crazy? They're serving such-and-such - you seriously need to go to the north chow hall!" and he'd get this half-puzzled, half-amazed look on his face. Yeah - I don't think it ever dawned on most guys that they were allowed to eat at other chow halls let alone that the food quality varied... And that's yet another story with no real point - just more memories about being an "old timer" at Keesler.
And a semi-related one:
I'm surprised at how few memories I have of actually eating in the chow halls (I guess when you do something every day it just doesn't stick around in your brain) but there is one particular ketchup related incident I remember quite clearly - it was one of those "how stupid can you get" things:
One day I was eating lunch and was about to put some ketchup on my fries when I noticed that the "tear here" arrow was pointing to the middle of the packet... I remember being totally puzzled by it. I mean, why on earth would anyone design a ketchup packet that opened in the middle??? The packet didn't appear to be different from any other ketchup packet, but I figured "Why would they tell you to open it in the middle unless that's where it was supposed to be opened?"... So - after one heck of lot of effort I managed to tear it open and the ketchup ended up everywhere but on my fries.
I was seriously pissed off... Not only had some moron designed a ketchup packet to open in the middle, but the darn things didn't work for sh*t! (How rude...) Then I flipped the packet over and realized that the fast food logo on it was mislocated by almost half the length of the packet... Yeah - the Air Force had picked up some misprinted ketchup packets for cheap...
So, why did I actually try to open a ketchup packet in the middle just because that's where the arrow was pointing? And what kind of person would even notice the arrow in the first place? Why do I remember it so clearly after 41 years??? All good questions :-)
Moving on:
By the end of that summer I'd pretty much concluded that the Air Force was a typical mindless, and inefficient bureaucracy.Then in mid-October OPEC announced an oil embargo (the one that led to the infamous gas crisis), and a couple of weeks later I saw President Nixon on the evening news announcing an "energy independence initiative" that included reducing energy use in government buildings.
When I got to school the next morning I discovered that half of the fluorescent tubes had been removed from every light fixture in Cody Hall (a big building) and it was the same in every building I was in that day... Yes... Within a matter of hours an order had gone from the White House to the Pentagon to every military installation in the U.S. resulting in hundreds of thousands of tubes being removed from light fixtures literally overnight. I was absolutely blown away... From that point on I never doubted the military's ability to mobilize on a moments notice. (Lesson learned.)
So, I guess that's enough for now... Over the next couple of posts I'll try to wrap up "tech school" so I can move on to my one and only assignment in the "real" Air Force.
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