All the time that I had the nausea, My little Dani would imitate me by running and getting a Kleenex and pretending to have the “dry heaves”. It was hilarious!!
As I said in the summer of 2008 I pretty much got over the nausea but my breathing continued to worsen. I met with a thoracic surgeon at the V A (he was actually on staff at the University of Minnesota) and he told me that he could do a surgery that might make my left diaphragm work again.
It was a laparoscopic surgery that stretched and attached the diaphragm to the left ribcage. At that point I was ready to try anything to improve my quality of life.
My daughter Aimee had just had her third daughter (Mackenzie Grace) in September of 2007 and my daughter Lynsey had just had twin girls in June of 2008 and I really wanted to be able to enjoy all my “little girls”.
The surgery was scheduled for October 2008 and it went fine. I got out of the ICU and was on the mend when I my blood pressure started dropping, and I started drifting in and out of consciousness. They rushed me back to the ICU and started giving me transfusions. I had gotten five units of blood during the surgery, and they gave me another nine units to stabilize me. I was again in for a lot longer than I bargained for. I got out in time for my birthday November 18th and was able to play executive chef for the Thanksgiving meal.
I was extremely impressed with the surgeon who did the diaphragm repair because he was the first doctor to actually tell me what had happened. He thought he might have nicked the spleen and that was where the blood loss was coming from. It repaired itself and I still have a healthy spleen. The doctor that did all the damage to begin with never admitted anything although his boss finally told me that what I suspected had happened was really what had happened.
I never recovered enough to take the responsibility for the “little girls” again. My son-in-law, Sean and my daughter, Aimee were forced to hire someone to take care of the “little girls” while they were at work.
In January 2009 I met Sarah on the internet and we really hit it off from the beginning. We met for the very first time around Easter and started spending almost every weekend together. The ‘little girls” began calling her Gramma Sarah way before I thought of her that way. I had sworn that I would never re-marry and now I found myself telling Sarah that she was going to be my wife. We were married on the Fourth of July and that begins a whole new adventure.
…and that’s the absolute truth…give or take a lie or two.
More next time…
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Maplewood Mania - Part 2
Kris, Lynsey, & Ellie lived with me for about a year…and we had some really good times. Kristopher loved pasta and Italian foods, and we made baked ziti, and lasagna, and Sopranos’ Sunday Gravy. But after a year at the Maplewood abode, they decided that they needed to be closer to where they worked and rented an apartment. The problem was the apartment didn’t allow dogs…so Ellie stayed with me.
My daughter Aimee and her significant other, Sean, Bryanna (their nine month old daughter) and Tigger (Sean’s cat) moved in with me and Ellie when Kris and Lynsey moved out in the middle of June. Sean and Aimee got married that July and they asked Kris and Lynsey to take Ellie…well that didn’t work, so Ben and Jena took Ellie to live with them and their Standard Schnauzer, Sadie. Sadie and Ellie got along pretty well except for the fact that Sadie’s favorite game became “Whack a Mole” with Ellie. Ellie attached herself to Jena and Sadie remained Ben’s dog. This arrangement lasted until Kris’s dad got his and Lynsey’s job back at the Unemployment Security office in Phoenix, and they took Ellie and moved back.
In September, when Bryanna turned one I started taking care of her and it was a lot of fun. I got to know my granddaughter very well and we became very close. For the most part I didn’t have too much trouble taking care of her, except for one incident when she was straining to poop, passed out, and stopped breathing. She really scared the hell out of me even though I was able to get her back right away.
In February of 2006 Aimee had their second daughter Danielle and she went to Aimee’s friends Ben and Stephanie (who had taken care of Bryanna until she was one) while they worked. In October that year I had a biventricular pacemaker put in which was supposed to give me more heart function and allow me to get some of my energy back…that turned out to be a real fiasco.
What was supposed to be about a half an hour procedure turned into about five hours and they still couldn’t get the lead in place. I need to come back in November and they surgically attached it to the wall of my heart…only problem was that they collapsed my left lung, paralyzed my left diaphragm, and hit the vagal nerve. To make matters worse I developed pneumonia in my right lung and what was supposed to be an overnight surgery tuned into a major hospital stay. My breathing was much worse than when I went in, and I had constant nausea. I was pretty sick and I had a six week lifting restriction so I wasn’t much help with the girls. Things gradually got better but the nausea went on for almost two years when my Primary physician was able to prescribe something that “settled the nerve down” and the nausea went away.
More next time…
My daughter Aimee and her significant other, Sean, Bryanna (their nine month old daughter) and Tigger (Sean’s cat) moved in with me and Ellie when Kris and Lynsey moved out in the middle of June. Sean and Aimee got married that July and they asked Kris and Lynsey to take Ellie…well that didn’t work, so Ben and Jena took Ellie to live with them and their Standard Schnauzer, Sadie. Sadie and Ellie got along pretty well except for the fact that Sadie’s favorite game became “Whack a Mole” with Ellie. Ellie attached herself to Jena and Sadie remained Ben’s dog. This arrangement lasted until Kris’s dad got his and Lynsey’s job back at the Unemployment Security office in Phoenix, and they took Ellie and moved back.
In September, when Bryanna turned one I started taking care of her and it was a lot of fun. I got to know my granddaughter very well and we became very close. For the most part I didn’t have too much trouble taking care of her, except for one incident when she was straining to poop, passed out, and stopped breathing. She really scared the hell out of me even though I was able to get her back right away.
In February of 2006 Aimee had their second daughter Danielle and she went to Aimee’s friends Ben and Stephanie (who had taken care of Bryanna until she was one) while they worked. In October that year I had a biventricular pacemaker put in which was supposed to give me more heart function and allow me to get some of my energy back…that turned out to be a real fiasco.
What was supposed to be about a half an hour procedure turned into about five hours and they still couldn’t get the lead in place. I need to come back in November and they surgically attached it to the wall of my heart…only problem was that they collapsed my left lung, paralyzed my left diaphragm, and hit the vagal nerve. To make matters worse I developed pneumonia in my right lung and what was supposed to be an overnight surgery tuned into a major hospital stay. My breathing was much worse than when I went in, and I had constant nausea. I was pretty sick and I had a six week lifting restriction so I wasn’t much help with the girls. Things gradually got better but the nausea went on for almost two years when my Primary physician was able to prescribe something that “settled the nerve down” and the nausea went away.
More next time…
Friday, September 18, 2009
Maplewood Mania - Part 1
Moving to Maplewood was no easy chore…with my health problems and Kris with his…we relied a great deal on my son Ben, my daughters and my friend Ron.
Now, Ron and I have been friends since we were fourteen. I could never have had a more loyal friend. Before I went to stay with my sister, and was in and out of the hospital all the time he and his wife Karen asked me to stay with them. They are both pretty wonderful. To prove how good a friend Ron is…he has helped me on almost every move that I ever made. He has always been right beside me trying to make things better the best that he can. We both grew up on the East Side of Saint Paul, went to High School together, partied together, started the University of Minnesota together (it was a waste of time and money on my part…because of my partying I am the only one that I know that ended up with a negative GPA).
I just had a recollection of one of the many pranks that we pulled on each other. Now you must remember this was during Jurassic times. I had a briefcase that was very much like the Atticus Finch carried in To Kill A Mockingbird. I also had courses where you were required to buy five or six books. It was a very cold February afternoon, and the classes that I chose to go to that day were done…so I headed for a couch in Coffman Memorial Student Union (made famous by Max Shulman’s The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis), put my briefcase at the end of the couch, “scrunched up” my jacket to use as a pillow, took off my shoes and went to sleep.
Ron took the briefcase, filled it with large boulders, took my shoes and went to sleep on another couch. This is the “old Minnesota February” where it stayed 20 to 25 below zero for weeks at a time. I woke up before Ron and I just knew that he had taken my shoes…so I took his and started off across campus. When I got to the car…I found my shoes, and saw Ron trudging across campus with his leather gloves on his feet…he reminded me of a chimpanzee or gorilla. Neither of us said a word about it, I had already changed shoes…so he put his on and we went home. It wasn’t until I opened my briefcase at home that I found out what he had done…he had left me a note…”these will probably do you just as much good as your books because some of them haven’t been opened.”
Ron and I disagree on politics, religion, philosophy, and just about everything else…but we would do absolutely anything for each other. When I look for a definition for friend…it always turns out to be a picture of Ron.
He helped us move into the house in Maplewood and swore that he would bring his axe and use the hide-a-bed for a bonfire before he moved it again.
It was pretty nice having more space and a fenced-in back yard for Ellie (Kris and Lynsey’s Long-haired Chihuahua)…I thought it was hysterical that the previous tenants had a Mastiff and the yard was posted with BEWARE THE DOG signs. We got settled in and things were pretty good.
More about this next time…
Now, Ron and I have been friends since we were fourteen. I could never have had a more loyal friend. Before I went to stay with my sister, and was in and out of the hospital all the time he and his wife Karen asked me to stay with them. They are both pretty wonderful. To prove how good a friend Ron is…he has helped me on almost every move that I ever made. He has always been right beside me trying to make things better the best that he can. We both grew up on the East Side of Saint Paul, went to High School together, partied together, started the University of Minnesota together (it was a waste of time and money on my part…because of my partying I am the only one that I know that ended up with a negative GPA).
I just had a recollection of one of the many pranks that we pulled on each other. Now you must remember this was during Jurassic times. I had a briefcase that was very much like the Atticus Finch carried in To Kill A Mockingbird. I also had courses where you were required to buy five or six books. It was a very cold February afternoon, and the classes that I chose to go to that day were done…so I headed for a couch in Coffman Memorial Student Union (made famous by Max Shulman’s The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis), put my briefcase at the end of the couch, “scrunched up” my jacket to use as a pillow, took off my shoes and went to sleep.
Ron took the briefcase, filled it with large boulders, took my shoes and went to sleep on another couch. This is the “old Minnesota February” where it stayed 20 to 25 below zero for weeks at a time. I woke up before Ron and I just knew that he had taken my shoes…so I took his and started off across campus. When I got to the car…I found my shoes, and saw Ron trudging across campus with his leather gloves on his feet…he reminded me of a chimpanzee or gorilla. Neither of us said a word about it, I had already changed shoes…so he put his on and we went home. It wasn’t until I opened my briefcase at home that I found out what he had done…he had left me a note…”these will probably do you just as much good as your books because some of them haven’t been opened.”
Ron and I disagree on politics, religion, philosophy, and just about everything else…but we would do absolutely anything for each other. When I look for a definition for friend…it always turns out to be a picture of Ron.
He helped us move into the house in Maplewood and swore that he would bring his axe and use the hide-a-bed for a bonfire before he moved it again.
It was pretty nice having more space and a fenced-in back yard for Ellie (Kris and Lynsey’s Long-haired Chihuahua)…I thought it was hysterical that the previous tenants had a Mastiff and the yard was posted with BEWARE THE DOG signs. We got settled in and things were pretty good.
More about this next time…
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
New Brighton Days
As you remember my son Ben had found me an apartment that was walking distance from his townhouse in New Brighton. It was good to see some of my children on a more regular basis, and I got to dog sit Ben & Jena’s Standard Schnauzer, Sadie.
It was now 2001 and a lot happened that year. My daughter Aimee got married in August at Lake Minnetonka, my son Ben got me tickets to see my parents in Kentucky…we had a great visit, but my return was booked for September 11th.
That morning my parents and I were watching the network news when the first plane crashed into the World Trade Center…my thoughts were “How could such a TERRIBLE accident happen”…and then the second plane crashed and I knew that the impossible had happened…we were under attack. Like everyone who could, I was glued to the television as the whole thing unfolded…the crash in Pennsylvania…the plane hitting the Pentagon…it seemed so very surreal. I continued to try and make arrangements to get back to Minneapolis-Saint Paul…while watching all the rescue/recovery attempts in NYC, Pennsylvania, and Washington DC…I REALLY wasn’t afraid to fly home, but I was so very angry that we had not prepared for such an attack…we had known that bin Laden was not only capable of launching such an attack…we had intelligence saying that he was going to attack the financial, military, and political centers of America. Yet, we had done nothing to prevent it! It was certainly a low point in America’s history.
I left Kentucky on September 14th and returned to New Brighton.
It wasn’t until I flew to Phoenix for my youngest daughter, Lynsey’s wedding in October that I really became aware of the increased security surrounding air travel. I had a pacemaker/defibrillator implanted in March and spent a half an hour trying to explain to airport security that I couldn’t go through the detectors…and they couldn’t use their “wands”, but needed to “pat me down”. This happened at every Airport both going to Phoenix and returning. I flew down for the wedding with my daughter Aimee and we had fun in spite of the fact that the attack had happened just over a month ago.
Within six months of their marriage, Kristopher, Lynsey's new 23-year old groom was diagnosed with a form of Cancer and lost his leg...it was devastating to the whole family. As he was recovering, I asked that they stay with me for awhile and they came to New Brighton and lived in my apartment for about six months...and then we were able to rent a house from Jena's (my daughter-in-law) dad Jerry. So we left New Brighton and moved to Maplewood...
And that is all the actual truth...give or take a lie or two...
Until next time!
It was now 2001 and a lot happened that year. My daughter Aimee got married in August at Lake Minnetonka, my son Ben got me tickets to see my parents in Kentucky…we had a great visit, but my return was booked for September 11th.
That morning my parents and I were watching the network news when the first plane crashed into the World Trade Center…my thoughts were “How could such a TERRIBLE accident happen”…and then the second plane crashed and I knew that the impossible had happened…we were under attack. Like everyone who could, I was glued to the television as the whole thing unfolded…the crash in Pennsylvania…the plane hitting the Pentagon…it seemed so very surreal. I continued to try and make arrangements to get back to Minneapolis-Saint Paul…while watching all the rescue/recovery attempts in NYC, Pennsylvania, and Washington DC…I REALLY wasn’t afraid to fly home, but I was so very angry that we had not prepared for such an attack…we had known that bin Laden was not only capable of launching such an attack…we had intelligence saying that he was going to attack the financial, military, and political centers of America. Yet, we had done nothing to prevent it! It was certainly a low point in America’s history.
I left Kentucky on September 14th and returned to New Brighton.
It wasn’t until I flew to Phoenix for my youngest daughter, Lynsey’s wedding in October that I really became aware of the increased security surrounding air travel. I had a pacemaker/defibrillator implanted in March and spent a half an hour trying to explain to airport security that I couldn’t go through the detectors…and they couldn’t use their “wands”, but needed to “pat me down”. This happened at every Airport both going to Phoenix and returning. I flew down for the wedding with my daughter Aimee and we had fun in spite of the fact that the attack had happened just over a month ago.
Within six months of their marriage, Kristopher, Lynsey's new 23-year old groom was diagnosed with a form of Cancer and lost his leg...it was devastating to the whole family. As he was recovering, I asked that they stay with me for awhile and they came to New Brighton and lived in my apartment for about six months...and then we were able to rent a house from Jena's (my daughter-in-law) dad Jerry. So we left New Brighton and moved to Maplewood...
And that is all the actual truth...give or take a lie or two...
Until next time!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Flim Flam, Horsefeathers & Horseshit
I ask your indulgence again as I address some of the current “mud-slinging” that has as it’s main goal and purpose to derail the healthcare reform and destroy any success this Administration has.
Back in January, Rush Limbaugh stated, “I hope he fails” in a speech on his radio program…On July 20th he stated that President Obama has yet to prove he is a citizen (on June 16, 2008 a Birth Certificate certified by the Department of Health for the State of Hawaii was produced)…On August 7th Limbaugh compared President Obama to Adolph Hitler.
The fox news personality, Glen Beck (you can not legimately call him a newscaster…because they have to deal in facts and diligently research what they report) crossed-the-line when he said that the President is a racist with a “deep-seated hatred for white people.” No proof was provided for these statements and Mr. Beck was given a "forced vacation" to decide whether he needs to apologize to the President.
In the past Ann Coulter has stated: “…I do think anyone named B. Hussein Obama should avoid using ‘hijack and ‘religion’ in the same sentence.”
And people like Bill O’Reilly and Dennis Miller doing the George Burns/Gracie Allen “shtick” attacking the President.
I don't understand this...it is nothing like the criticism that "W" faced for what may have been war crimes...after all, Natalie Maines (the lead singer of the Dixie Chicks)only said that she was ashamed that he was from Texas...and there was hate mail and even a serious death threat.
There doesn't seem to be appropriate responses to the facts that President Obama has been portrayed on FOX NEWS "as suspicious, foreign, fearsome - just short of a terrorist."
This President has the capabilities and drive to be one of the greatest that we have ever had...and he is subjected to being called a terrorist, compared to Adolph Hitler, and even recently called the anti-Christ. A Rabbi translated his name from the Aramaic into something like lightning and the heights (Baraq Bama) from this some "fringe elements" of the Christian Radical Right have made a video that insinuates that the President IS the Anti-Christ.
I have more questions than answers...questions like is this because of racial bias...do any of these individuals posess REAL WORKING brain cells...is there that much fear and hatred among the former Administration, their cohorts and puppets...will this brilliant man EVER get the recognition he deserves for the efforts he is making in behalf of the WHOLE country...these things trouble me very much!!
Until next time...
Back in January, Rush Limbaugh stated, “I hope he fails” in a speech on his radio program…On July 20th he stated that President Obama has yet to prove he is a citizen (on June 16, 2008 a Birth Certificate certified by the Department of Health for the State of Hawaii was produced)…On August 7th Limbaugh compared President Obama to Adolph Hitler.
The fox news personality, Glen Beck (you can not legimately call him a newscaster…because they have to deal in facts and diligently research what they report) crossed-the-line when he said that the President is a racist with a “deep-seated hatred for white people.” No proof was provided for these statements and Mr. Beck was given a "forced vacation" to decide whether he needs to apologize to the President.
In the past Ann Coulter has stated: “…I do think anyone named B. Hussein Obama should avoid using ‘hijack and ‘religion’ in the same sentence.”
And people like Bill O’Reilly and Dennis Miller doing the George Burns/Gracie Allen “shtick” attacking the President.
I don't understand this...it is nothing like the criticism that "W" faced for what may have been war crimes...after all, Natalie Maines (the lead singer of the Dixie Chicks)only said that she was ashamed that he was from Texas...and there was hate mail and even a serious death threat.
There doesn't seem to be appropriate responses to the facts that President Obama has been portrayed on FOX NEWS "as suspicious, foreign, fearsome - just short of a terrorist."
This President has the capabilities and drive to be one of the greatest that we have ever had...and he is subjected to being called a terrorist, compared to Adolph Hitler, and even recently called the anti-Christ. A Rabbi translated his name from the Aramaic into something like lightning and the heights (Baraq Bama) from this some "fringe elements" of the Christian Radical Right have made a video that insinuates that the President IS the Anti-Christ.
I have more questions than answers...questions like is this because of racial bias...do any of these individuals posess REAL WORKING brain cells...is there that much fear and hatred among the former Administration, their cohorts and puppets...will this brilliant man EVER get the recognition he deserves for the efforts he is making in behalf of the WHOLE country...these things trouble me very much!!
Until next time...
Sunday, September 13, 2009
And Then Some...
I worked with Dagney for awhile after Gary’s death, but because of her drinking the tension between Mona and I was palpable. Like I said earlier she was wonderful when she was sober and an absolute bitch when she was drunk.
One of the last things I did for Dagney was to run an auction to sell Gary’s gun collection. There were three of us involved in the sale Greg (Gary’s) son, Gary’s friend who was on the boat when he died, and me. It turned into a total fiasco. Both Greg and Gary’s buddy got “stinkin’ drunk” and were selling great guns well below what they should have sold for and not keeping accurate records on the guns they sold. I convinced them that it would be a lot better if they just went to the bar and I ran the remaining two days and we were able to correct the “paperwork” on the gun sales and sell the remaining guns for what they should sell for. All sales were done by auction so we forced some prices pretty high and made up for the all the major errors of the first day.
It was about this time that my son convinced me that I needed to move closer to the cities and I found a two bedroom apartment in Cambridge for about $100 more than I was paying for a one bedroom apartment in Hinckley. It was owned by a Chinese lady who had properties all over Cambridge. She used to treat me to dinner at least once a month.
Through a friend I met Brian…he was a nineteen year old Ojibwa who had just moved into the area. He had no money and no place to stay and I remembered what that was like after my divorce. He hadn’t been able to find a job and didn’t have a lot of prospects. So I told him he could live with me until he got on his feet.
Now there is no limit on the number of deer that Native Americans can take each year, so Brian took three. I came home from grocery shopping to find him butchering all three deer in the bathtub. There was blood and hair and bones everywhere. I told him if the sheriff saw this we would both be in cells waiting for blood analysis to prove that we weren’t homicidal. He just laughed and asked me to go back to the store and get three or four rolls of freezer paper. He really was good at cutting meat, and he had done steaks, tenderloins, chops, and roasts. We found friends that had chest freezers to store some of the meat and told them they were welcome to whatever they wsnted for their personal use. He ground a lot more up to make venison burgers and sausages…however he wasn’t good at cleaning up after himself. It took me the better part of a week to clean the bathroom well enough to be fit for human habitation.
We lived together for a couple of months until I started finding articles of value missing and started missing money from my wallet. I asked him to leave and this ruined my friendship with the person that had brought us together.
Ben found an apartment that was pretty close in price to what I was paying, and it was within walking distance of his townhouse…I moved back to the CITIES.
Remember, this is the actual truth…give or take a lie or two…
Until next time…
One of the last things I did for Dagney was to run an auction to sell Gary’s gun collection. There were three of us involved in the sale Greg (Gary’s) son, Gary’s friend who was on the boat when he died, and me. It turned into a total fiasco. Both Greg and Gary’s buddy got “stinkin’ drunk” and were selling great guns well below what they should have sold for and not keeping accurate records on the guns they sold. I convinced them that it would be a lot better if they just went to the bar and I ran the remaining two days and we were able to correct the “paperwork” on the gun sales and sell the remaining guns for what they should sell for. All sales were done by auction so we forced some prices pretty high and made up for the all the major errors of the first day.
It was about this time that my son convinced me that I needed to move closer to the cities and I found a two bedroom apartment in Cambridge for about $100 more than I was paying for a one bedroom apartment in Hinckley. It was owned by a Chinese lady who had properties all over Cambridge. She used to treat me to dinner at least once a month.
Through a friend I met Brian…he was a nineteen year old Ojibwa who had just moved into the area. He had no money and no place to stay and I remembered what that was like after my divorce. He hadn’t been able to find a job and didn’t have a lot of prospects. So I told him he could live with me until he got on his feet.
Now there is no limit on the number of deer that Native Americans can take each year, so Brian took three. I came home from grocery shopping to find him butchering all three deer in the bathtub. There was blood and hair and bones everywhere. I told him if the sheriff saw this we would both be in cells waiting for blood analysis to prove that we weren’t homicidal. He just laughed and asked me to go back to the store and get three or four rolls of freezer paper. He really was good at cutting meat, and he had done steaks, tenderloins, chops, and roasts. We found friends that had chest freezers to store some of the meat and told them they were welcome to whatever they wsnted for their personal use. He ground a lot more up to make venison burgers and sausages…however he wasn’t good at cleaning up after himself. It took me the better part of a week to clean the bathroom well enough to be fit for human habitation.
We lived together for a couple of months until I started finding articles of value missing and started missing money from my wallet. I asked him to leave and this ruined my friendship with the person that had brought us together.
Ben found an apartment that was pretty close in price to what I was paying, and it was within walking distance of his townhouse…I moved back to the CITIES.
Remember, this is the actual truth…give or take a lie or two…
Until next time…
Thursday, September 10, 2009
A Little More of the Same
I never made any money working for Gary, but I got first choice on any jewelry or Native American artifacts or any artwork that came into the shop.
Now Dagney had come over to help with the Hinckley shop because of Gary’s drinking and because she had heard some rumors that he was “whoring around”. She left her daughter Mona (the oldest daughter) to run the Mora shop…big mistake. Mona took off for Alaska with about $35,000 of the shop’s money. She was in such a drunken state that the authorities in Alaska called Dagney and told her that she was probably going to die. Dagney flew to Alaska and nursed her back to health, and brought her back to Hinckley. It wasn’t too long before she was working in the Hinckley shop…so I sort of retired.
It was about three in the morning on a day in late May when Dagney called me pretty much hysterical. She asked me if I would drive her to the small lake near Mora because the sheriff had called with a report that Gary might have drowned. He has bought a fifty foot boat and was testing her for the first time he had planned on taking her all the way down the Mississippi later that summer. He was on the boat with a friend he drank with and they had both proceeded to get as “drunk as skunks” and started having trouble with the engine. Gary was on the bow when the boat lurched forward and threw him overboard. He was a very powerful swimmer but it was still pretty cold and he had on a leather Vikings jacket and boots…he didn’t have a chance. His friend stripped down and swam to shore, ran to the nearest house and reported the accident.
Dagney, Amy (her granddaughter) and I got there about a quarter to four and the boat was still making circles with Hooch (Gary’s Doberman) barking and whining on board. The sheriff had tried to coax Hooch off the boat so he could take it into shore but the dog wouldn’t let him on board. Amy went over and got Hooch, and they brought the boat in.
They sent out divers when it became light and they started searching for Gary. Because of Gary’s reputation of “being connected” and the fact that he always carried such a roll of money with him…the rumor mill was in full gear. He was in Costa Rica, he had been robbed and killed, he had been hit by the mob for something he had done. But most people thought that he was alive and in hiding. This went on for almost a week…and then they found the body. It had been snagged by some large branches and it took the divers about a half an hour to free him. I was glad they found him because it put the rumors to rest and gave Dagney some closure.
I helped her with the shop for awhile, but putting up with Mona was more and more of a chore. She was drunk most of the time, stealing and generally being obnoxious. Now you have to understand that when Mona was sober she was very sweet and pleasant, but when she was drunk she was a nightmare.
This is the absolute truth…give or take a lie or two.
Until next time…
Now Dagney had come over to help with the Hinckley shop because of Gary’s drinking and because she had heard some rumors that he was “whoring around”. She left her daughter Mona (the oldest daughter) to run the Mora shop…big mistake. Mona took off for Alaska with about $35,000 of the shop’s money. She was in such a drunken state that the authorities in Alaska called Dagney and told her that she was probably going to die. Dagney flew to Alaska and nursed her back to health, and brought her back to Hinckley. It wasn’t too long before she was working in the Hinckley shop…so I sort of retired.
It was about three in the morning on a day in late May when Dagney called me pretty much hysterical. She asked me if I would drive her to the small lake near Mora because the sheriff had called with a report that Gary might have drowned. He has bought a fifty foot boat and was testing her for the first time he had planned on taking her all the way down the Mississippi later that summer. He was on the boat with a friend he drank with and they had both proceeded to get as “drunk as skunks” and started having trouble with the engine. Gary was on the bow when the boat lurched forward and threw him overboard. He was a very powerful swimmer but it was still pretty cold and he had on a leather Vikings jacket and boots…he didn’t have a chance. His friend stripped down and swam to shore, ran to the nearest house and reported the accident.
Dagney, Amy (her granddaughter) and I got there about a quarter to four and the boat was still making circles with Hooch (Gary’s Doberman) barking and whining on board. The sheriff had tried to coax Hooch off the boat so he could take it into shore but the dog wouldn’t let him on board. Amy went over and got Hooch, and they brought the boat in.
They sent out divers when it became light and they started searching for Gary. Because of Gary’s reputation of “being connected” and the fact that he always carried such a roll of money with him…the rumor mill was in full gear. He was in Costa Rica, he had been robbed and killed, he had been hit by the mob for something he had done. But most people thought that he was alive and in hiding. This went on for almost a week…and then they found the body. It had been snagged by some large branches and it took the divers about a half an hour to free him. I was glad they found him because it put the rumors to rest and gave Dagney some closure.
I helped her with the shop for awhile, but putting up with Mona was more and more of a chore. She was drunk most of the time, stealing and generally being obnoxious. Now you have to understand that when Mona was sober she was very sweet and pleasant, but when she was drunk she was a nightmare.
This is the absolute truth…give or take a lie or two.
Until next time…
Hinckley Hijinx
After the road trip fiasco, my friendship with Hauga was really strained, so I decided to go back to working flea markets and pow wows. That’s when I met Gary…he was at the flea market looking for bargains on anything of value. Gary owned the pawnshop in Hinckley, and was a real character. He had come up to the area to buy and run a restaurant on a small lake near Mora…he had had a very successful bar in the Cities (that featured world class Coney Islands). He “got wind” that a casino was going to open in Hinckley and felt that a pawnshop was a natural (which proved to be the case). He also got a law passed that there could only be one pawnshop within fifty miles of the casino…a real stroke of genius.
Gary was a big, powerful man who had been a golden gloves champion and professional boxer in his younger days. He could be extremely funny and very crude all at the same time. We developed a friendship and I began hanging out at the pawnshop, having lunch with Gary, and helping out once in awhile.
Now Gary had a serious drinking problem…and he began calling me at home telling me that he was too “sick” to run the shop, and would I work it for him today. This became more and more frequent, and after awhile we began to work it together. He taught me a lot about the business, and I taught him about buying Native American relics and “pieces of value”. I sometimes had pangs of conscience about taking advantage of people who were really vulnerable, but someone else would, if we didn’t. Most of the individuals who used the pawnshop were chronic gamblers. They would pawn very valuable items for a chance to play at the Casino and win enough to redeem their items and have a lot left over…most of the time it was left long enough (60 days) to be sold at about five times what it was pawned for. Gary was an extremely shrewd businessman, he carried a roll of bills that would “choke a horse” and made deals on the spot. His talk, mannerisms, crudeness, and size gave credibility to the rumor that he was “connected”. He was always looking for the deal, and “scoured the area” attempting to get classic cars, boats, guns motorcycles, snowmobiles, and just about anything of value. Some of these he sold at the pawnshop and some just went into his collection.
About a year after opening the pawnshop in Hinckley, Gary had his wife Dagney open a second pawnshop in Mora to handle the trade from the Mille Lacs Casino. They were complete opposites: for as crude as Gary was…Dagney was a real lady, he was huge and she was barely five feet tall and about a hundred pounds, he was extremely tough and she was very compassionate. Dagney was about five years older than Gary and her father had been his manager during the “Prizefighting Days”. She adored him and he tolerated her (he may have loved her…as much as he was capable of love). They had a son and two daughters, with several years between each of them. Enough between the two daughters, that the oldest daughter had a child the same time as her mother. The youngest daughter and Dagney’s granddaughter grew up almost as sisters because Dagney raised them both.
More about all of this later…until next time…
Gary was a big, powerful man who had been a golden gloves champion and professional boxer in his younger days. He could be extremely funny and very crude all at the same time. We developed a friendship and I began hanging out at the pawnshop, having lunch with Gary, and helping out once in awhile.
Now Gary had a serious drinking problem…and he began calling me at home telling me that he was too “sick” to run the shop, and would I work it for him today. This became more and more frequent, and after awhile we began to work it together. He taught me a lot about the business, and I taught him about buying Native American relics and “pieces of value”. I sometimes had pangs of conscience about taking advantage of people who were really vulnerable, but someone else would, if we didn’t. Most of the individuals who used the pawnshop were chronic gamblers. They would pawn very valuable items for a chance to play at the Casino and win enough to redeem their items and have a lot left over…most of the time it was left long enough (60 days) to be sold at about five times what it was pawned for. Gary was an extremely shrewd businessman, he carried a roll of bills that would “choke a horse” and made deals on the spot. His talk, mannerisms, crudeness, and size gave credibility to the rumor that he was “connected”. He was always looking for the deal, and “scoured the area” attempting to get classic cars, boats, guns motorcycles, snowmobiles, and just about anything of value. Some of these he sold at the pawnshop and some just went into his collection.
About a year after opening the pawnshop in Hinckley, Gary had his wife Dagney open a second pawnshop in Mora to handle the trade from the Mille Lacs Casino. They were complete opposites: for as crude as Gary was…Dagney was a real lady, he was huge and she was barely five feet tall and about a hundred pounds, he was extremely tough and she was very compassionate. Dagney was about five years older than Gary and her father had been his manager during the “Prizefighting Days”. She adored him and he tolerated her (he may have loved her…as much as he was capable of love). They had a son and two daughters, with several years between each of them. Enough between the two daughters, that the oldest daughter had a child the same time as her mother. The youngest daughter and Dagney’s granddaughter grew up almost as sisters because Dagney raised them both.
More about all of this later…until next time…
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Road Trips
I don’t know if I mentioned this earlier but my friend Hauga was a much better artist than I was…my art evolved through training and practice, his was a gift. He never really realized how much talent he possessed (and for the most part wasted). He had so many opportunities that he squandered and could have become Tribal Artist for the Winnebago’s and stabilized his life…but that wasn’t his style. He did carve a Great Bear for the Tribal Community Center and received around $30,000 for the project…he also did a carving on a huge moose rack…it was a complete village with teepees, people, horses, dogs, buffalo, antelope. He got about $25,000 for this project. I don’t have a clue as to what he did with the money, but I'm sure that none of it was spent constructively.
As I recounted earlier, Hauga and I criss-crossed Minnesota, Wisconsin, and the Dakotas, attempting to get “regular” outlets for our art. Hauga was always suggesting these little out of the way places to go on the way to a major gallery or arts and crafts shop. We did nothing on consignment, but sold our art at a price that guaranteed that even if only a few piece sold the owner made money. He carried these two black duffle bags with him always and took one in at each of these “side stops”. I finally got VERY curious as to what pieces he was selling…so I opened the bag, and guess what it was filled with cocaine. I was so angry that when he got back to the car…the bag was sitting outside the car. I told him he could “dump” the rest of it at this stop and ride with me or stay there and look for a different mode of transportation.
He didn’t have a clue that if we were stopped and the bags searched I would be sitting in a prison cell right along side of him. He got the buyer to take the remainder of the bag of his hands. From then on I thoroughly checked each bag to ensure that we were only carrying artwork. It came close to “busting” our friendship forever because I couldn’t trust him.
Over the years drugs cost me a lot of good friends…I had a friend in college who was an ex-Viet Nam Vet. As a requirement for graduation he and I were involved in a mandatory drug education class, he was an ex-heroin addict and had been clean for thirteen years. As a part of the class we were required to go out to schools and community centers and give “drug talks”. He was excellent and got the audience to listen because he was not the Police telling them “just don’t do drugs”. He could talk about the sense of loss when a family member overdosed, or the beautiful young girls that drugs turned into whores. He was so very credible…and then he OD’ed, and died. It was such a tragedy, but it reinforced my understanding that there was so very much power in drugs. I never allowed Hauga to work with me when he was “loaded”, and he became more and more distant. He felt that I was “judging him”, I wasn’t...but I couldn’t condone it…I didn’t want to be around him when he died.
And that’s the absolute truth…give or take a lie or two.
See you next time.
As I recounted earlier, Hauga and I criss-crossed Minnesota, Wisconsin, and the Dakotas, attempting to get “regular” outlets for our art. Hauga was always suggesting these little out of the way places to go on the way to a major gallery or arts and crafts shop. We did nothing on consignment, but sold our art at a price that guaranteed that even if only a few piece sold the owner made money. He carried these two black duffle bags with him always and took one in at each of these “side stops”. I finally got VERY curious as to what pieces he was selling…so I opened the bag, and guess what it was filled with cocaine. I was so angry that when he got back to the car…the bag was sitting outside the car. I told him he could “dump” the rest of it at this stop and ride with me or stay there and look for a different mode of transportation.
He didn’t have a clue that if we were stopped and the bags searched I would be sitting in a prison cell right along side of him. He got the buyer to take the remainder of the bag of his hands. From then on I thoroughly checked each bag to ensure that we were only carrying artwork. It came close to “busting” our friendship forever because I couldn’t trust him.
Over the years drugs cost me a lot of good friends…I had a friend in college who was an ex-Viet Nam Vet. As a requirement for graduation he and I were involved in a mandatory drug education class, he was an ex-heroin addict and had been clean for thirteen years. As a part of the class we were required to go out to schools and community centers and give “drug talks”. He was excellent and got the audience to listen because he was not the Police telling them “just don’t do drugs”. He could talk about the sense of loss when a family member overdosed, or the beautiful young girls that drugs turned into whores. He was so very credible…and then he OD’ed, and died. It was such a tragedy, but it reinforced my understanding that there was so very much power in drugs. I never allowed Hauga to work with me when he was “loaded”, and he became more and more distant. He felt that I was “judging him”, I wasn’t...but I couldn’t condone it…I didn’t want to be around him when he died.
And that’s the absolute truth…give or take a lie or two.
See you next time.
Monday, September 7, 2009
A Brief Hiatus
I hope that my readers will forgive the brief hiatus in my posts, but we (my wife Sarah and I) went to spend time with three of the five baby girls and one teen-age baby girl. We were celebrating birthdays and enjoying the chaos of that many children. It’s right around thirteen hours round trip…so we don’t get to see them as often as we would like.
My son was going to be out of town and was kind enough to offer to let us stay at his house and dog-sit his pups, we had a great time. We took our little dog Elsie with us and it was fun for her too. After the initial sizing up, my son has a Standard Schnauzer and a Great Bernese Mix…so there really was some size difference, they got along great.
The little girls are so wonderful and we have such a wonderful time each time we visit.
I’ll be back soon…
My son was going to be out of town and was kind enough to offer to let us stay at his house and dog-sit his pups, we had a great time. We took our little dog Elsie with us and it was fun for her too. After the initial sizing up, my son has a Standard Schnauzer and a Great Bernese Mix…so there really was some size difference, they got along great.
The little girls are so wonderful and we have such a wonderful time each time we visit.
I’ll be back soon…
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Do I Digress...I Do...I Do
Well, again I am going to depart from the story that is my life, and get back up on my “soapbox.”
I have alluded to it before, but I have to really go on the record and state what bothers me so very much about some Conservatives. It is their willingness to “label” those individuals who don’t agree with them as unpatriotic, even going so far as to imply that they are traitors to their country.
Let’s do a bit of defining…a Patriot is simply one who feels love or devotion to their country. I am a Patriot, but in the true definition that also rejects nationalism and embraces social responsibility.
What the Radical Right…whether it be journalists, radio personalities, or politicians...refer to as Patriotism is nothing more than Jingoism.
Let’s define that…Jingoism is an extreme form of patriotism, it is more nationalistic belligerence, it advocates force or threats of force to accomplish what is perceived to be good for the country. It creates an excessive bias, and fosters an attitude that one’s own country is superior to all others.
I am a Patriot, but I have lived long enough, and seen enough abuses of power and position to be very skeptical of the direction that the Conservatives are trying to lead this country. I am a history scholar and a history buff…I know the things that America has done that have made her far from perfect.
We have come a long way in my lifetime…but we have committed our share of atrocities. One of the things that “makes my blood boil” is the hypocrisy that many Americans demonstrate by their condemnation of governments and dictatorships…when we put many of them into power. The CIA put Saddam Hussein in power, and hundreds of vicious warlords in South East Asia.
We condemn the assassination of leaders that are friendly to our government…and plan and execute elected officials who are thought to challenge our positions. We advocate human rights and yet we don’t acknowledge that we had a number of genocidal incidents such as: the massacre of Sand Creek and the Wounded Knee massacre. The Mei Lei Massacre and similar acts that were committed in Iraq were not aberrations, but events in a long line of atrocities which have been committed by the United States in the name of the greater good.
I am a Patriot, I love this country...but I also acknowledge it's warts.
Until next time...
I have alluded to it before, but I have to really go on the record and state what bothers me so very much about some Conservatives. It is their willingness to “label” those individuals who don’t agree with them as unpatriotic, even going so far as to imply that they are traitors to their country.
Let’s do a bit of defining…a Patriot is simply one who feels love or devotion to their country. I am a Patriot, but in the true definition that also rejects nationalism and embraces social responsibility.
What the Radical Right…whether it be journalists, radio personalities, or politicians...refer to as Patriotism is nothing more than Jingoism.
Let’s define that…Jingoism is an extreme form of patriotism, it is more nationalistic belligerence, it advocates force or threats of force to accomplish what is perceived to be good for the country. It creates an excessive bias, and fosters an attitude that one’s own country is superior to all others.
I am a Patriot, but I have lived long enough, and seen enough abuses of power and position to be very skeptical of the direction that the Conservatives are trying to lead this country. I am a history scholar and a history buff…I know the things that America has done that have made her far from perfect.
We have come a long way in my lifetime…but we have committed our share of atrocities. One of the things that “makes my blood boil” is the hypocrisy that many Americans demonstrate by their condemnation of governments and dictatorships…when we put many of them into power. The CIA put Saddam Hussein in power, and hundreds of vicious warlords in South East Asia.
We condemn the assassination of leaders that are friendly to our government…and plan and execute elected officials who are thought to challenge our positions. We advocate human rights and yet we don’t acknowledge that we had a number of genocidal incidents such as: the massacre of Sand Creek and the Wounded Knee massacre. The Mei Lei Massacre and similar acts that were committed in Iraq were not aberrations, but events in a long line of atrocities which have been committed by the United States in the name of the greater good.
I am a Patriot, I love this country...but I also acknowledge it's warts.
Until next time...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Could It Be Deja Vu All Over Again
My friend Hauga had three children: a boy who was about eleven at the time, and girls that were nine and eight. He got an emergency call from Nebraska that his mother was very ill, and he needed to come at once…his wife Michelle (a Lakota Sioux) had been on a drunk for over a week and he didn’t know how to find her…and could I take care of his kids until he came back. Does any of this sound familiar?
I agreed and the first thing the kids and I had to do was buy some groceries…there was nothing but beer in the refrigerator and only coffee in the pantry. So we went to the store and just bought some staples, but I did agree that they could each pick out one thing that they wanted just to keep them from arguing about everything. I wasn’t surprised when they each picked their favorite dry cereal…so I bought a couple more gallons of milk and we went back to their apartment. I fixed a pot roast and some potatoes and veggies, and we settled in…about that time Michelle came home “roaring in drunk as a skunk’ and swearing and bitching about me being there and where was Hauga…I explained that he had to go to Nebraska and should be back in a couple of days…about that time she passed out. Tony (Hauga’s son) and I carried her into the bedroom and threw her on the bed, and we went back to “chillin’”.
When Hauga got back (his mother recovered fully) Michelle told him that she had been “sleeping with me” the whole time he was gone. Lucky for me, he didn’t believe her, and told her that you would sleep with anyone or anything…but he knew that I would never betray his friendship.
I will recount one other episode concerning Hauga and me. It was about this time of year and Hauga and Michelle had just gotten their Tribal checks and decided that they wanted to go to the Mall of America to buy school clothes for the kids. The problem was, they didn’t have a car…I had a 1979 Mercury Marquis (a “big boat”) and it looked terrible…but it always started and it always ran. I called it my “rez car” because it looked so pitiful. Well, the trip down was uneventful (if you don’t count children fighting all the way down)…just as we pulled into the parking lot at the Mall of America, a belt broke and the alternator went out. I had the money to get the parts but no money for labor, so Michelle and the kids went shopping, and Hauga called his brother-in-law Jimmy. They would go and get the parts, I would stay with the car to keep it from getting ticketed, and wait for Michelle and the kids. They got the parts, but when they got back Jimmy was so drunk that he couldn’t stand (and certainly not drive). It was getting too dark to work on the car…so we left a note saying that we would repair it in the morning. When Michelle and the kids got back, I convinced Jimmy that I should drive to his house and that way he could continue to drink…we made it safely to West Saint Paul and I slept in a chair. Jimmy, Michelle and her sister Mary drank themselves into oblivion. Hauga didn’t drink. The next day we got the car repaired and we were going to pick up Michelle and the kids when Jimmy decided he was too thirsty to go straight back to the house. So we stopped at this bar he knew and he started “throwing them down” pretty ferociously. Jimmy was half Lakota Sioux and half Irish, and that was a deadly combination…he started calling me “Special Ed”, and was looking at two couples at the next table. He asked the women, “Aren’t you afraid that someone will work your corner while you are in here”. About that time Hauga picked him up by his shirt collar and carried him to the car…we headed back to Hinckley.
There were many other adventures and misadventures that Hauga and I had, but those will be fodder for the future.
Again…this is all absolutely true…give or take a lie or two.
Until next time…
I agreed and the first thing the kids and I had to do was buy some groceries…there was nothing but beer in the refrigerator and only coffee in the pantry. So we went to the store and just bought some staples, but I did agree that they could each pick out one thing that they wanted just to keep them from arguing about everything. I wasn’t surprised when they each picked their favorite dry cereal…so I bought a couple more gallons of milk and we went back to their apartment. I fixed a pot roast and some potatoes and veggies, and we settled in…about that time Michelle came home “roaring in drunk as a skunk’ and swearing and bitching about me being there and where was Hauga…I explained that he had to go to Nebraska and should be back in a couple of days…about that time she passed out. Tony (Hauga’s son) and I carried her into the bedroom and threw her on the bed, and we went back to “chillin’”.
When Hauga got back (his mother recovered fully) Michelle told him that she had been “sleeping with me” the whole time he was gone. Lucky for me, he didn’t believe her, and told her that you would sleep with anyone or anything…but he knew that I would never betray his friendship.
I will recount one other episode concerning Hauga and me. It was about this time of year and Hauga and Michelle had just gotten their Tribal checks and decided that they wanted to go to the Mall of America to buy school clothes for the kids. The problem was, they didn’t have a car…I had a 1979 Mercury Marquis (a “big boat”) and it looked terrible…but it always started and it always ran. I called it my “rez car” because it looked so pitiful. Well, the trip down was uneventful (if you don’t count children fighting all the way down)…just as we pulled into the parking lot at the Mall of America, a belt broke and the alternator went out. I had the money to get the parts but no money for labor, so Michelle and the kids went shopping, and Hauga called his brother-in-law Jimmy. They would go and get the parts, I would stay with the car to keep it from getting ticketed, and wait for Michelle and the kids. They got the parts, but when they got back Jimmy was so drunk that he couldn’t stand (and certainly not drive). It was getting too dark to work on the car…so we left a note saying that we would repair it in the morning. When Michelle and the kids got back, I convinced Jimmy that I should drive to his house and that way he could continue to drink…we made it safely to West Saint Paul and I slept in a chair. Jimmy, Michelle and her sister Mary drank themselves into oblivion. Hauga didn’t drink. The next day we got the car repaired and we were going to pick up Michelle and the kids when Jimmy decided he was too thirsty to go straight back to the house. So we stopped at this bar he knew and he started “throwing them down” pretty ferociously. Jimmy was half Lakota Sioux and half Irish, and that was a deadly combination…he started calling me “Special Ed”, and was looking at two couples at the next table. He asked the women, “Aren’t you afraid that someone will work your corner while you are in here”. About that time Hauga picked him up by his shirt collar and carried him to the car…we headed back to Hinckley.
There were many other adventures and misadventures that Hauga and I had, but those will be fodder for the future.
Again…this is all absolutely true…give or take a lie or two.
Until next time…
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Episode IV - A New Hope
My time in Hinckley was really a time of renewal…I had a lot of time to think about what I really wanted to do, and what was really important. I did my arts and crafts thing to supplement my Social Security, and in my travels I made friends with a couple of fellow artists, Terry Karrow and Hauga (a very large Winnebago). Over time we became close enough that we each took some of all of our pieces, and sold them, giving the money to the artist who created the work. Terry was a specialist in ear rings, pipes, drums, tomahawks, and knives. Hauga was an exceptional artist…he carved stone, wood, antlers and moose racks, he painted turtle shells and deer-skins, and mad some beautiful ear rings in his own right. I continued to create more and more intricate mandalas and spirit windows, and I also began making medicine bags and sheaths for Hauga’s and Terry’s knives.
Terry and I could always account “to the penny” what we got for our projects, but that wasn’t the case with Hauga, most of the time by the time he got back he had spent all of the money that he had gotten from all of our projects. He would feel bad about it, and usually gave us a piece of his work that was worth three or four times the monies he had gotten for our projects.
I had met Terry on one of my many visits to the local hospital (I was “blacking out” periodically). He was working as an EMT and had transported me to the hospital a few times. He had been a medic in Viet Nam, and we developed a strong friendship…he brought me books on Native American crafts and the Voyageur lifestyle, Terry was about 45 at this time and was still “pretty wild and crazy”. Terry always said that he wasn’t married, but his wife was. He started stopping at my apartment at least a couple times a week…sort of as a “welfare check”…but really to just drink coffee and socialize. Terry got disgusted with never getting the money that he expected from the projects, and he was getting more and more out of Native American art and into pagan arts...he started making fertility goddess necklaces, and pentagrams and stuff that Hauga and I didn't even want to touch. Terry was convinced that he was a Wicca(male witch), and he ran off to Texas to a Rendezvous with a 25 year-old Lakota.
I met Hauga at the flea market. I told him that his art was way too classy to be in this environment…he needed to get it into galleries and specialty craft stores to make any real money. He said that he really didn’t know how to do that…so I taught him.
As I said Hauga could never truly account for what happened to the proceeds from the art sales, but I was pretty satisfied to be able to pick up a piece of art that was "way beyond my means", so we continued to work together.
...and that's the absolute truth...give or take a lie or two.
...more exciting adventures next time…
Terry and I could always account “to the penny” what we got for our projects, but that wasn’t the case with Hauga, most of the time by the time he got back he had spent all of the money that he had gotten from all of our projects. He would feel bad about it, and usually gave us a piece of his work that was worth three or four times the monies he had gotten for our projects.
I had met Terry on one of my many visits to the local hospital (I was “blacking out” periodically). He was working as an EMT and had transported me to the hospital a few times. He had been a medic in Viet Nam, and we developed a strong friendship…he brought me books on Native American crafts and the Voyageur lifestyle, Terry was about 45 at this time and was still “pretty wild and crazy”. Terry always said that he wasn’t married, but his wife was. He started stopping at my apartment at least a couple times a week…sort of as a “welfare check”…but really to just drink coffee and socialize. Terry got disgusted with never getting the money that he expected from the projects, and he was getting more and more out of Native American art and into pagan arts...he started making fertility goddess necklaces, and pentagrams and stuff that Hauga and I didn't even want to touch. Terry was convinced that he was a Wicca(male witch), and he ran off to Texas to a Rendezvous with a 25 year-old Lakota.
I met Hauga at the flea market. I told him that his art was way too classy to be in this environment…he needed to get it into galleries and specialty craft stores to make any real money. He said that he really didn’t know how to do that…so I taught him.
As I said Hauga could never truly account for what happened to the proceeds from the art sales, but I was pretty satisfied to be able to pick up a piece of art that was "way beyond my means", so we continued to work together.
...and that's the absolute truth...give or take a lie or two.
...more exciting adventures next time…
Monday, August 31, 2009
Pardon My Digression...
Pardon my digression, but I decided that in order to continue with the story of my life I need to go back and explain a few things.
During one of the many times when I was in V A Medical Center (after my second wife and I had split) I met a Cheyenne who had been in Minneapolis to watch his nephew’s children. The nephew and his wife had been incarcerated on drug charges and he had stepped in to prevent them from being taken by the County. He was about to have a heart bypass and his wife needed to go back to South Dakota because her mother had gotten very ill.
Well, I was about to be released from the hospital and I offered to watch the children until she could return. He was leery at first, but didn’t want them to become wards of the County. He talked it over with his wife and they agreed that it was really their only option. The children were a ten year old boy, and eight year old twin girls, and I watched them for about five days while his wife got things “settled down” with her mother in South Dakota and for about two weeks while she was back and forth visiting my Cheyenne friend during his recovery from the bypass surgery.
When he recovered, I discovered that he was an Elder in the Cheyenne Nation and wanted me to visit them in South Dakota (they were going to bring his nephew’s children there to live). I went back with them and stayed on the reservation for a couple of weeks. He wanted to do something for me and asked if there was anything that I really wanted. I told him that I would like to go through a sweat lodge ceremony and he said that he would fix it up. It was one of the most interesting experience of my life and during this time I went through a “naming ceremony” and became Stonewolf (the name that I paint under and use as my internet address) and became an honorary member of the Cheyenne Nation.
We stayed in touch for several years until his death about five years ago.
I became very interested in tracing what I could of my Native American roots…but there was so much effort made to distance themselves from the tribes and “become Americans”, that details were pretty sketchy. I found out that one of my great-great uncles (on my mother’s side) was a Cherokee Chief and had been a part of the “Trail of Tears”, and that my grandmother (on my dad’s side) was a full-blooded Choctaw.
I , initially, began painting spirit windows and mandalas to give as gifts to my children. I soon found that there was a market for my work and began selling items at local gift shops and craft shops. My art gradually evolved from cave dwelling depictions of animals and scenes like those that as storyboards in the lodges and tepees of Native Americans to more representational animals and scenes.
I must admit that my son is a much better artist than I am, and one of my nephews has had shows and works hanging in galleries all over the Midwest…his work is wonderful! But, I enjoy painting and creating art pieces...so I continue to do it to this day!
I hope that this fills in some gaps for my readers…
Until next time…
During one of the many times when I was in V A Medical Center (after my second wife and I had split) I met a Cheyenne who had been in Minneapolis to watch his nephew’s children. The nephew and his wife had been incarcerated on drug charges and he had stepped in to prevent them from being taken by the County. He was about to have a heart bypass and his wife needed to go back to South Dakota because her mother had gotten very ill.
Well, I was about to be released from the hospital and I offered to watch the children until she could return. He was leery at first, but didn’t want them to become wards of the County. He talked it over with his wife and they agreed that it was really their only option. The children were a ten year old boy, and eight year old twin girls, and I watched them for about five days while his wife got things “settled down” with her mother in South Dakota and for about two weeks while she was back and forth visiting my Cheyenne friend during his recovery from the bypass surgery.
When he recovered, I discovered that he was an Elder in the Cheyenne Nation and wanted me to visit them in South Dakota (they were going to bring his nephew’s children there to live). I went back with them and stayed on the reservation for a couple of weeks. He wanted to do something for me and asked if there was anything that I really wanted. I told him that I would like to go through a sweat lodge ceremony and he said that he would fix it up. It was one of the most interesting experience of my life and during this time I went through a “naming ceremony” and became Stonewolf (the name that I paint under and use as my internet address) and became an honorary member of the Cheyenne Nation.
We stayed in touch for several years until his death about five years ago.
I became very interested in tracing what I could of my Native American roots…but there was so much effort made to distance themselves from the tribes and “become Americans”, that details were pretty sketchy. I found out that one of my great-great uncles (on my mother’s side) was a Cherokee Chief and had been a part of the “Trail of Tears”, and that my grandmother (on my dad’s side) was a full-blooded Choctaw.
I , initially, began painting spirit windows and mandalas to give as gifts to my children. I soon found that there was a market for my work and began selling items at local gift shops and craft shops. My art gradually evolved from cave dwelling depictions of animals and scenes like those that as storyboards in the lodges and tepees of Native Americans to more representational animals and scenes.
I must admit that my son is a much better artist than I am, and one of my nephews has had shows and works hanging in galleries all over the Midwest…his work is wonderful! But, I enjoy painting and creating art pieces...so I continue to do it to this day!
I hope that this fills in some gaps for my readers…
Until next time…
Sunday, August 30, 2009
and The Terribly Ugly...
Back to the story of my life…
I was shocked that my contract was not going to be renewed, I had just saved the company several millions of dollars and made them a few million more in new sales. It didn’t make sense until Sherman told me that they could not afford the company’s health insurance (he had a bad heart, Marvin had a bad heart and Marvin’s wife had MS). He said that because of the number of problems that I had with my heart during the last year their carrier to drop them…he swore that he would deny that he ever told me this…but that’s the way it was. He offered to let me consult for the company (without benefits), but then I would not be able to COBRA my coverage, and the way my health was failing I had to be insured.
It didn’t take very long for the word to spread throughout the industry that I was a “bad risk”. I had to find some other way of making money so I started working at a convenience store and within a year I was managing five stores. My wife was not thrilled about this because she thought that it was demeaning…then I had another pretty serious “heart episode”. My wife had a daughter and a son by a previous marriage, and the son had cerebral palsy…she was sure that she would end up as care giver for both of us…so she asked me to leave.
It was a desperate time for me: failing health, no job, and no home. If it hadn’t have been for the love of my children, I might not have made it emotionally. I was in the VA Medical Center for over three months that year, stayed with my best friend and his wife for about a month, and ended up back in the hospital. Before I was discharged from the hospital, my sister and brother-in-law visited me and told me that I was going to live with them until things got better. I stayed with them for about thirteen or fourteen months while I waited for Social Security to start. They saved my life…and I began upon a new adventure. My wife notified me that she had filed for divorce and I started drawing Social Security.
I moved into an apartment in Hinckley, Minnesota and began to supplement my Social Security by selling artwork at flea markets and local arts and crafts stores. I started going to Pow Wows and exploring my Native American ethnicity. I discovered that I was three-eighths Cherokee and three-eighths Choctaw…the rest being a mixture of Scotch-Irish and German. I was beginning to see a new direction in my life.
More of that in the next Post.
Until then…
I was shocked that my contract was not going to be renewed, I had just saved the company several millions of dollars and made them a few million more in new sales. It didn’t make sense until Sherman told me that they could not afford the company’s health insurance (he had a bad heart, Marvin had a bad heart and Marvin’s wife had MS). He said that because of the number of problems that I had with my heart during the last year their carrier to drop them…he swore that he would deny that he ever told me this…but that’s the way it was. He offered to let me consult for the company (without benefits), but then I would not be able to COBRA my coverage, and the way my health was failing I had to be insured.
It didn’t take very long for the word to spread throughout the industry that I was a “bad risk”. I had to find some other way of making money so I started working at a convenience store and within a year I was managing five stores. My wife was not thrilled about this because she thought that it was demeaning…then I had another pretty serious “heart episode”. My wife had a daughter and a son by a previous marriage, and the son had cerebral palsy…she was sure that she would end up as care giver for both of us…so she asked me to leave.
It was a desperate time for me: failing health, no job, and no home. If it hadn’t have been for the love of my children, I might not have made it emotionally. I was in the VA Medical Center for over three months that year, stayed with my best friend and his wife for about a month, and ended up back in the hospital. Before I was discharged from the hospital, my sister and brother-in-law visited me and told me that I was going to live with them until things got better. I stayed with them for about thirteen or fourteen months while I waited for Social Security to start. They saved my life…and I began upon a new adventure. My wife notified me that she had filed for divorce and I started drawing Social Security.
I moved into an apartment in Hinckley, Minnesota and began to supplement my Social Security by selling artwork at flea markets and local arts and crafts stores. I started going to Pow Wows and exploring my Native American ethnicity. I discovered that I was three-eighths Cherokee and three-eighths Choctaw…the rest being a mixture of Scotch-Irish and German. I was beginning to see a new direction in my life.
More of that in the next Post.
Until then…
Friday, August 28, 2009
In Deference
In deference to my readers I will deal some more with current issues before going back to my long and sometimes painful life story.
But first, when I praised my son, I certainly did not to mean slight my two wonderful daughters…they are wives, mothers, busy with community activities, and still find time to excel at their chosen careers…love you and all the little girls, and miss you lots!!
Now more on my views on current issues…
In case there is any doubt, I am a card-carrying Democrat, and have been since 1963. I have only voted for one Republican Presidential Candidate…George H. W. Bush because he was so much more competent than Michael Dukakis. I am proud to be labeled a Liberal, and take umbrage at the efforts of the Radical Right to attempt to make it a philosophy that is outmoded, and almost a “dirty word”.
In my opinion this country has produced some of the finest examples of what a Liberal should be…the Kennedys, Lyndon Johnson, and Jimmy Carter ( I don’t really consider Clinton a Liberal, although he started out as one). I think that, if he let’s himself, Barak Obama will become a great Liberal.
Minnesota had her own examples: Hubert H Humphrey, Eugene McCarthy and Paul Wellstone…and South Dakota had George McGovern.
It is always dangerous to make generalizations but I believe that Liberals have more of a “heart” for people. They did much more to sponsor Civil Rights, Human Rights, and care for the disabled and aging. It is a fundamental Liberal position that being an American entitles each citizen to an opportunity for a decent standard of living, educational opportunities, and a “safety net” for those who experience catastrophic events. At times these entitlements have been and are being abused. But it is better that we accept the abuses than to destroy the fabric of the position.
I supported and voted for Barack Obama, and intend to support his candidacy and vote for him in 2012 (unless something terribly catastrophic occurs).
As an American, and a veteran, I am sick and tired of having my patriotism questioned…by individuals that should be behind bars for an extremely long period of time. These individuals are former Vice President Dick Cheney (who tarnished the office at least as much as Spiro Agnew or Richard Nixon) and Karl Rove (who “W” must have found under some Texas rock). I am fed up with the American Public for allowing individuals such as Bill O’Reilly, Glen Beck, Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Bernard Goldman, and a host of others to pollute their mind with ‘toxic halftruths” and lies that have the sole purpose of “getting Obama”.
Cheney recently stated that the Justice Department’s revisiting of the conduct of CIA interrogators serves as a reminder of why Americans question the Administration’s ability to protect the Nation (Say what you mean, Dickie-Boy, you don’t want to go to jail).
On a completely unrelated topic I don’t believe that Michael Vick should have ever been allowed to play in the National Football League again, I believe that the EAGLES made a serious mistake signing him and I WILL NOT watch any game that he plays in…as a matter of fact I think that I will try to organize a boycott on Facebook.
That’s all for now…see you next time!
But first, when I praised my son, I certainly did not to mean slight my two wonderful daughters…they are wives, mothers, busy with community activities, and still find time to excel at their chosen careers…love you and all the little girls, and miss you lots!!
Now more on my views on current issues…
In case there is any doubt, I am a card-carrying Democrat, and have been since 1963. I have only voted for one Republican Presidential Candidate…George H. W. Bush because he was so much more competent than Michael Dukakis. I am proud to be labeled a Liberal, and take umbrage at the efforts of the Radical Right to attempt to make it a philosophy that is outmoded, and almost a “dirty word”.
In my opinion this country has produced some of the finest examples of what a Liberal should be…the Kennedys, Lyndon Johnson, and Jimmy Carter ( I don’t really consider Clinton a Liberal, although he started out as one). I think that, if he let’s himself, Barak Obama will become a great Liberal.
Minnesota had her own examples: Hubert H Humphrey, Eugene McCarthy and Paul Wellstone…and South Dakota had George McGovern.
It is always dangerous to make generalizations but I believe that Liberals have more of a “heart” for people. They did much more to sponsor Civil Rights, Human Rights, and care for the disabled and aging. It is a fundamental Liberal position that being an American entitles each citizen to an opportunity for a decent standard of living, educational opportunities, and a “safety net” for those who experience catastrophic events. At times these entitlements have been and are being abused. But it is better that we accept the abuses than to destroy the fabric of the position.
I supported and voted for Barack Obama, and intend to support his candidacy and vote for him in 2012 (unless something terribly catastrophic occurs).
As an American, and a veteran, I am sick and tired of having my patriotism questioned…by individuals that should be behind bars for an extremely long period of time. These individuals are former Vice President Dick Cheney (who tarnished the office at least as much as Spiro Agnew or Richard Nixon) and Karl Rove (who “W” must have found under some Texas rock). I am fed up with the American Public for allowing individuals such as Bill O’Reilly, Glen Beck, Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Bernard Goldman, and a host of others to pollute their mind with ‘toxic halftruths” and lies that have the sole purpose of “getting Obama”.
Cheney recently stated that the Justice Department’s revisiting of the conduct of CIA interrogators serves as a reminder of why Americans question the Administration’s ability to protect the Nation (Say what you mean, Dickie-Boy, you don’t want to go to jail).
On a completely unrelated topic I don’t believe that Michael Vick should have ever been allowed to play in the National Football League again, I believe that the EAGLES made a serious mistake signing him and I WILL NOT watch any game that he plays in…as a matter of fact I think that I will try to organize a boycott on Facebook.
That’s all for now…see you next time!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
By Special Request
I had a special request from one of my readers to “take a time out” and discuss some current events and other matters before finishing the story that is my life…
Here goes…I believe with Ted Kennedy’s passing the country lost a Great Voice. I am aware that he was flawed…the 1969 Chappaquiddick incident which resulted in the death of one of his aides, Mary Jo Kopechne ruined his chances of ever becoming President, and a number of drunken incidents at the Kennedy Compound in Florida tarnished his image further. That aside there was no greater voice for the Liberal cause than that of Senator Edward Moore Kennedy. He was called the “Liberal Lion” and the “Lion of the Senate,”and there was a reason for this. However flawed, the man created over 300 bills that were enacted into law. They addressed a variety of issues ranging from Civil Rights to Children’s Health insurance; from immigration to cancer research; from AIDS care to apartheid. He was a master at finding compromises and working with Republicans to get his bills enacted into law. Just as Bill Clinton had flaws in his morality, Ted Kennedy was flawed. But, both did tremendous service to their country. I believe that Senator Kennedy was far more influential as a Senator then he could have been as President of the United States. He served with distinction as the United States Senator from Massachusetts for forty-six plus years. He was not afraid to wear the label Liberal, but rather became the symbol of liberal thought and causes. Flawed as he was, he was one of my heros!
On a much lighter note…I think that the Vikings really enhanced their chances to repeat as North Division Champs and even…dare I say it, yes I will say it, winning the Super Bowl with the acquisition of Brett Favre. He has more weapons than he has had in years…an Offensive line that will protect him, a Running Back that is the star of the league, a solid core of receivers, and a Defense that shouldn’t force him to play from behind (where he gets into trouble). I also enjoy the fact that PACKER BACKERS get to see Number 4 in a purple jersey.
On a very personal note…I am extremely proud of my son, He possesses the intelligence and drive that will get him wherever he wants to go, and has a lovely and supportive wife (who is truly his partner). But, I do worry…I know that we both have “Bucket Lists” but his is far more aggressive and dangerous than mine. I still remember being young enough to believe that I was indestructible, and I always took my share of risks both in business and in my personal life. But, I think he might be pushing well beyond my comfort level. I hope you have good weather on Saturday, have fun, and never do it again!
See you next time…
Here goes…I believe with Ted Kennedy’s passing the country lost a Great Voice. I am aware that he was flawed…the 1969 Chappaquiddick incident which resulted in the death of one of his aides, Mary Jo Kopechne ruined his chances of ever becoming President, and a number of drunken incidents at the Kennedy Compound in Florida tarnished his image further. That aside there was no greater voice for the Liberal cause than that of Senator Edward Moore Kennedy. He was called the “Liberal Lion” and the “Lion of the Senate,”and there was a reason for this. However flawed, the man created over 300 bills that were enacted into law. They addressed a variety of issues ranging from Civil Rights to Children’s Health insurance; from immigration to cancer research; from AIDS care to apartheid. He was a master at finding compromises and working with Republicans to get his bills enacted into law. Just as Bill Clinton had flaws in his morality, Ted Kennedy was flawed. But, both did tremendous service to their country. I believe that Senator Kennedy was far more influential as a Senator then he could have been as President of the United States. He served with distinction as the United States Senator from Massachusetts for forty-six plus years. He was not afraid to wear the label Liberal, but rather became the symbol of liberal thought and causes. Flawed as he was, he was one of my heros!
On a much lighter note…I think that the Vikings really enhanced their chances to repeat as North Division Champs and even…dare I say it, yes I will say it, winning the Super Bowl with the acquisition of Brett Favre. He has more weapons than he has had in years…an Offensive line that will protect him, a Running Back that is the star of the league, a solid core of receivers, and a Defense that shouldn’t force him to play from behind (where he gets into trouble). I also enjoy the fact that PACKER BACKERS get to see Number 4 in a purple jersey.
On a very personal note…I am extremely proud of my son, He possesses the intelligence and drive that will get him wherever he wants to go, and has a lovely and supportive wife (who is truly his partner). But, I do worry…I know that we both have “Bucket Lists” but his is far more aggressive and dangerous than mine. I still remember being young enough to believe that I was indestructible, and I always took my share of risks both in business and in my personal life. But, I think he might be pushing well beyond my comfort level. I hope you have good weather on Saturday, have fun, and never do it again!
See you next time…
The Bad...
I was thriving in the new environment and the President (one of two owners), and the Vice President (the other one) and I got along wonderfully. I was hired as their Marketing Director and did a lot of sales training , restructuring compensation plans, and streamlining a lot of the tracking procedures. I worked very closely with the sales manager (she became a very good friend). I had just remarried, and Mary Jo and Robert had dinner together with us on a regular basis. Robert was from Scotland, was a professional soccer coach, and a gourmet cook. He and I were constantly attempting to outdo one another with the dinners we cooked and the way it was presented . We really enjoyed each other’s company and had a lot of fun.
The company created a voice mail division and I became its General Manager…I ran both sales and operations for the division, and occasionally had a chance to do some direct selling. We sold a very large voice mail system to a large national bank, and it was constantly “hiccupping” or incurring new “glitches”. I became very close friends with their Senior Vice President of Operations (as a matter of fact, he was one of my son’s mentors in college).
The Vice President of our company was about sixty, Jewish and funny enough to have a career as a comedian “on the borscht belt “. Marvin honored my wife and me by asking us to attend their Satyr dinner (the meal that marks the beginning of Passover) it was an honor because we were the first Goys ever invited.
The President of our company was also Jewish, a few years younger than the Vice President, and extremely intense. Sherman and I used to close the door and scream at each other (it was the type of relationship that we had). Everyone else was totally intimidated by him and he really enjoyed the fact that I wasn’t. We had lunch together at least once a week (just to catch up on the things that we both need to know , but hadn’t had time to discuss).
It was just at this time that I had either four or five minor MI’s (heart attacks) within a year’s span. At one of our lunches, Sherman told me that they were not going to renew my contract for the following year…it “blew me away” because I never saw it coming.
And I say again that this is the absolute truth…give or take a lie or two.
Until next time…
The company created a voice mail division and I became its General Manager…I ran both sales and operations for the division, and occasionally had a chance to do some direct selling. We sold a very large voice mail system to a large national bank, and it was constantly “hiccupping” or incurring new “glitches”. I became very close friends with their Senior Vice President of Operations (as a matter of fact, he was one of my son’s mentors in college).
The Vice President of our company was about sixty, Jewish and funny enough to have a career as a comedian “on the borscht belt “. Marvin honored my wife and me by asking us to attend their Satyr dinner (the meal that marks the beginning of Passover) it was an honor because we were the first Goys ever invited.
The President of our company was also Jewish, a few years younger than the Vice President, and extremely intense. Sherman and I used to close the door and scream at each other (it was the type of relationship that we had). Everyone else was totally intimidated by him and he really enjoyed the fact that I wasn’t. We had lunch together at least once a week (just to catch up on the things that we both need to know , but hadn’t had time to discuss).
It was just at this time that I had either four or five minor MI’s (heart attacks) within a year’s span. At one of our lunches, Sherman told me that they were not going to renew my contract for the following year…it “blew me away” because I never saw it coming.
And I say again that this is the absolute truth…give or take a lie or two.
Until next time…
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Good...
My crew worked fairly well together (even though they were fiercely competitive) and some became close enough to become business partners in later years. These were really excellent times…we were selling and installing large telephone systems for hospitals, county governments, the Federal Government, and some very large banks. In order for the jobs to get finished the way I wanted them done and on time…I made a deal with the Operations Manager (he was 63 and didn’t really like to leave the office), I would run the jobs from both the sales and operational aspects (and he would get the credit for anything that went well, and I would take the blame for anything that didn’t). He thought that this was just swell!! It meant a lot of traveling for me…but I was going through and divorce and didn’t really mind. It was a helluva lot of fun…but good things don’t usually last too long and the company was “swallowed up” by and even larger company. I was odd man out!
A “head hunter” called me and asked if I would like to interview with a German telecommunications company that was moving into the area…and I became their Branch Manager for Minneapolis with both sales and operations reporting to me. It didn’t take me very long to figure out that I didn’t fit into this corporate culture. I was the renegade that was used to running my own show and they expected someone to “click their heels and say Ya-vol!” The issue became a major problem when I asked for the resignation of a male employee for sexual harassment…Corporate decided that I had overstepped my authority and wrote me a letter of reprimand. I did not know that my married boss had gotten his secretary pregnant. I said that there was no way I would accept a letter of reprimand and they allowed me to leave with six months severance pay.
I had already lined up a position with a private telecommunications firm that was one of their distributors…I started there two weeks later. It was a fun atmosphere, I had freedom and could basically “run my own show again”, and I got a $20,000 boost in salary.
Again, this is the absolute truth…give or take a lie or two.
…more later
A “head hunter” called me and asked if I would like to interview with a German telecommunications company that was moving into the area…and I became their Branch Manager for Minneapolis with both sales and operations reporting to me. It didn’t take me very long to figure out that I didn’t fit into this corporate culture. I was the renegade that was used to running my own show and they expected someone to “click their heels and say Ya-vol!” The issue became a major problem when I asked for the resignation of a male employee for sexual harassment…Corporate decided that I had overstepped my authority and wrote me a letter of reprimand. I did not know that my married boss had gotten his secretary pregnant. I said that there was no way I would accept a letter of reprimand and they allowed me to leave with six months severance pay.
I had already lined up a position with a private telecommunications firm that was one of their distributors…I started there two weeks later. It was a fun atmosphere, I had freedom and could basically “run my own show again”, and I got a $20,000 boost in salary.
Again, this is the absolute truth…give or take a lie or two.
…more later
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Busy Signals
I finished first the year that the company Awards & Recognition were in Scottsdale. We all were invited to a “black tie” event and we all had the usual “penguin outfits”. Not Bob, no he opted for white silk complete with long tails and a top hat. He was my hero! One other highlight of this trip was the dinner at Pinnacle Pete’s…the executives told us that it was semi-formal so wear suits and our very best ties. Bob and I were really into designer ties at this time and we each wore our favorite, only to find out that this was the place that cut the ties off at the knot. At the end of the evening we were all presented with beautiful designer ties (way above what we could afford). It’s a good thing that we didn’t react badly when the ties were cut, but took it in stride.
About this time things were getting ugly with possible anti trust violations and indictments of some of the executives for bribing public officials…it looked like it was a very good time for Bob and me to “bail”. It was just at this time that I was on jury duty and had the massive MI (heart attack) that destroyed the lower third of my heart. During the six months it took me to recover I grew a beard and decided that I really liked the look.
I went to interview for the Area Sales Manager’s position at the the third largest telephone company in the country wearing the new beard. I was interviewing with the Vice President of Marketing and his final question was “How important is that beard to you.” And I answered “If it stands in the way of me getting this position, it will be gone tomorrow,” He told me he just wanted to check out my priorities and the beard was fine “It makes you look professorial.” This was the very best company that I ever worked for, and within six months I was promoted from Area Sales Manager (managing the Minnesota sales force) to Regional Sales Manager (with responsibility for Minnesota, North and South Dakota, Iowa , and Western Wisconsin). The workload was gruesome but I was going through a divorce at the time, and it kept me from dwelling on that.
I had the most opportunities to “do my own thing” that I ever had in my career…I interviewed and hired my entire sales force and trained them to sell the way that I wanted them to…and it worked like a charm…they all became very successful, and most of them ended up owning their own businesses.
Bob went in an entirely different direction and decided to manage his wife’s business.
We will get into that in the next post…it’s all absolutely true (give or take a lie or two).
About this time things were getting ugly with possible anti trust violations and indictments of some of the executives for bribing public officials…it looked like it was a very good time for Bob and me to “bail”. It was just at this time that I was on jury duty and had the massive MI (heart attack) that destroyed the lower third of my heart. During the six months it took me to recover I grew a beard and decided that I really liked the look.
I went to interview for the Area Sales Manager’s position at the the third largest telephone company in the country wearing the new beard. I was interviewing with the Vice President of Marketing and his final question was “How important is that beard to you.” And I answered “If it stands in the way of me getting this position, it will be gone tomorrow,” He told me he just wanted to check out my priorities and the beard was fine “It makes you look professorial.” This was the very best company that I ever worked for, and within six months I was promoted from Area Sales Manager (managing the Minnesota sales force) to Regional Sales Manager (with responsibility for Minnesota, North and South Dakota, Iowa , and Western Wisconsin). The workload was gruesome but I was going through a divorce at the time, and it kept me from dwelling on that.
I had the most opportunities to “do my own thing” that I ever had in my career…I interviewed and hired my entire sales force and trained them to sell the way that I wanted them to…and it worked like a charm…they all became very successful, and most of them ended up owning their own businesses.
Bob went in an entirely different direction and decided to manage his wife’s business.
We will get into that in the next post…it’s all absolutely true (give or take a lie or two).
Back in the Phone Booth
When everything “crashed” with the boys from Ireland, I needed to do something quickly. This all happened on an early fight back from Calgary on a Friday morning.
As soon as I landed I picked up the telephone and called my old boss at Bell. I told him my wife was tired of me traveling all the time and would they have any interest in me. He said, “Give me a number that I can reach you at, and I will get back to you in a couple of hours.” He called back and I went back to work for the Telephone Company the next Monday, for twice the salary I had left at…two years earlier.
Well, there had been some changes at Bell while I was gone…they were attempting to create teams of specialists to work specific industries. My new title was National Account Manager, and I was responsible for five Fortune 500 Companies in the heavy equipment area…I was also responsible for about twenty smaller companies that were also involved either in the manufacturing or distribution of heavy equipment. The thing that didn’t change was I was still in sales…not management. They were becoming much more professional and sophisticated in their approach to customers. They were now clients and each National Account Manager had to go through some rigorous training that if successfully completed would end up in the title of Certified Industry Consultant.
My good friend (the only one that I considered competition at Bell) and I were determined to be the first in the Country to get through certification. We were a real pair (both fiercely driven…but with styles as different as ‘day and night’. He was the hammer and I was the velvet glove. Bobby was my very best friend at Bell…we took our sons to their first Twins game, did outings together, and went out to dinner with our wives (who really did not like each other). But we were competitive as hell…it didn’t really matter which one finished first and which finished second…but we had to be the top two each year! For the next few years we got all the fancy TV’s, trips and awards…either he as number one and me a close number two, or the other way around.
We had some good times for awhile…
Everything that I have written in these postings is the absolute truth…”give or take a lie or two!”
Until next time…
As soon as I landed I picked up the telephone and called my old boss at Bell. I told him my wife was tired of me traveling all the time and would they have any interest in me. He said, “Give me a number that I can reach you at, and I will get back to you in a couple of hours.” He called back and I went back to work for the Telephone Company the next Monday, for twice the salary I had left at…two years earlier.
Well, there had been some changes at Bell while I was gone…they were attempting to create teams of specialists to work specific industries. My new title was National Account Manager, and I was responsible for five Fortune 500 Companies in the heavy equipment area…I was also responsible for about twenty smaller companies that were also involved either in the manufacturing or distribution of heavy equipment. The thing that didn’t change was I was still in sales…not management. They were becoming much more professional and sophisticated in their approach to customers. They were now clients and each National Account Manager had to go through some rigorous training that if successfully completed would end up in the title of Certified Industry Consultant.
My good friend (the only one that I considered competition at Bell) and I were determined to be the first in the Country to get through certification. We were a real pair (both fiercely driven…but with styles as different as ‘day and night’. He was the hammer and I was the velvet glove. Bobby was my very best friend at Bell…we took our sons to their first Twins game, did outings together, and went out to dinner with our wives (who really did not like each other). But we were competitive as hell…it didn’t really matter which one finished first and which finished second…but we had to be the top two each year! For the next few years we got all the fancy TV’s, trips and awards…either he as number one and me a close number two, or the other way around.
We had some good times for awhile…
Everything that I have written in these postings is the absolute truth…”give or take a lie or two!”
Until next time…
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Madness and Irishmen - the Final Part
I got to Amarillo just in time for the worst sandstorm that I ever saw…I can remember it to this day because I had rented a brand new bright red Mercury Cougar (I used to have a penchant for red cars) and the storm was so bad that I had to pull off the road for over five hours. I had trouble getting the doors open because there was so much sand piled against them. I finally got out to survey the damage the sand and wind had cut the paint job down to the primer and had frosted the windshield (all the windows for that matter) and there was so much sand in the engine compartment that the car couldn’t possibly start. It was one of the weirdest things I ever saw and I have been through major earthquake and several tornadoes. The rental agency brought me a new red car and towed the other one away.
I met Buck for coffee and he laughed his ass off…he said, “Welcome to Amarillo, Texas “the asshole of the planet.” We talked about what was expected in the Highway Department demonstration…we were supposed to follow the road crew and screen for them along the way. They would continuously take samples and if the roadbed material stayed within specifications Buck’s company would buy another five machines. It worked without a flaw and I got the sale. We had a “Good old Boy” who was a small operator from Amarillo watching the whole process very intently. He said that he was very interested and if I would demonstrate on some material that he thought was “unscreenable”, he would also buy a plant. We ran tests for him for three complete days (sunup until well after dark) and screened all the material that he had and we had ran the demo screening plant hard enough to almost burn it up. Well he said that he wasn’t satisfied that the materials were “out of specification” and it would all have to be re-run to be of any value. It was about that time that I figured that this “Good Old Boy” and “snookered” the “Damn Yankee”. He needed just the amount of material we screened for a road contract he had…I required a fifty percent deposit from that point forward if I didn’t know the prospect or if they didn’t come with a reference from someone I knew.
There were many more adventures…deer hunting with Buck, selling three or four screening plants in Knoxville, Tennessee, and setting up a chain of distributors all across Canada. I did all the training and helped with their first sales at each dealership. But, as I found out many times in my later life (both personal and professional) nothing lasts forever. John and I were on a flight back from Calgary, and he said: “Do ye have a good attorney, me lad? You may need one because I lost control of the Company to a fu’n bloody bunch of Bastards back in Ireland”. So it ended sadly, and badly.
What happened next is the next post…
I met Buck for coffee and he laughed his ass off…he said, “Welcome to Amarillo, Texas “the asshole of the planet.” We talked about what was expected in the Highway Department demonstration…we were supposed to follow the road crew and screen for them along the way. They would continuously take samples and if the roadbed material stayed within specifications Buck’s company would buy another five machines. It worked without a flaw and I got the sale. We had a “Good old Boy” who was a small operator from Amarillo watching the whole process very intently. He said that he was very interested and if I would demonstrate on some material that he thought was “unscreenable”, he would also buy a plant. We ran tests for him for three complete days (sunup until well after dark) and screened all the material that he had and we had ran the demo screening plant hard enough to almost burn it up. Well he said that he wasn’t satisfied that the materials were “out of specification” and it would all have to be re-run to be of any value. It was about that time that I figured that this “Good Old Boy” and “snookered” the “Damn Yankee”. He needed just the amount of material we screened for a road contract he had…I required a fifty percent deposit from that point forward if I didn’t know the prospect or if they didn’t come with a reference from someone I knew.
There were many more adventures…deer hunting with Buck, selling three or four screening plants in Knoxville, Tennessee, and setting up a chain of distributors all across Canada. I did all the training and helped with their first sales at each dealership. But, as I found out many times in my later life (both personal and professional) nothing lasts forever. John and I were on a flight back from Calgary, and he said: “Do ye have a good attorney, me lad? You may need one because I lost control of the Company to a fu’n bloody bunch of Bastards back in Ireland”. So it ended sadly, and badly.
What happened next is the next post…
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Madness and Irishmen - Part 3
When I arrived in Shreveport, I took one look at the operation and was sure that there was no way we could get the screening plant to screen the muck that was supposed to be roadbed product…it was coming out of a swamp for Pete’s sake. Terry told me not to worry and again he was right he made some adjustments to the screening plant and it worked like a charm. The amazing thing about this little portable screening plant was that it had no cross members…what I mean is that most screening plants have different size screens that are like giant window screens. The need a different one for each size material, but ours was a truly unique design it had no cross members which is why they called it the Irish Harp. The key to it’s marvelous performance was the pitch that it was set at and the vibrations of the screen. It had so many applications that I could just see it “printing money”.
While we were at Shreveport, I remember a dinner that Terry and I had together. We were sitting in the restaurant and terry had just started his second fifth of Old Bushmill, and was “primed”. Now you need to understand that Terry was this very handsome “Black Irishman” (he had coal black hair and blue eyes) and could be very charming. The waitress came over with the check and Terry said “Aye Lassie, have you a wee bit of Irish in you…would you like a wee bit of Irish in you?” I thought for sure that he would get his face slapped, but she left with him.
After the success in Shreveport, John called the whole group of us together for a little celebration. It was my first chance to meet ALL the crazy blokes. Language was and wasn’t a problem. The version of English that they spoke was truly unique…everything was “fu’ing bloody” this or “fu’ing bloody” that, and there were the “laddies and lassies and boyos”, but if you sorted it out and listened carefully you could understand them. Well almost understand them (except for the Belfast boys...they had a different brogue all together). Well, the party included an authentic Irish band…and soon they were teaching me how to “jig”...I never met a group of people that could drink more or had more fun than these crazy blokes.
After the party John told me that Del (the VP in Dallas) had called and wanted me to see if we could demonstrate the plant for the Texas Highway department in Amarillo…it would mean at least five or six more sales…but that’s the next post…
While we were at Shreveport, I remember a dinner that Terry and I had together. We were sitting in the restaurant and terry had just started his second fifth of Old Bushmill, and was “primed”. Now you need to understand that Terry was this very handsome “Black Irishman” (he had coal black hair and blue eyes) and could be very charming. The waitress came over with the check and Terry said “Aye Lassie, have you a wee bit of Irish in you…would you like a wee bit of Irish in you?” I thought for sure that he would get his face slapped, but she left with him.
After the success in Shreveport, John called the whole group of us together for a little celebration. It was my first chance to meet ALL the crazy blokes. Language was and wasn’t a problem. The version of English that they spoke was truly unique…everything was “fu’ing bloody” this or “fu’ing bloody” that, and there were the “laddies and lassies and boyos”, but if you sorted it out and listened carefully you could understand them. Well almost understand them (except for the Belfast boys...they had a different brogue all together). Well, the party included an authentic Irish band…and soon they were teaching me how to “jig”...I never met a group of people that could drink more or had more fun than these crazy blokes.
After the party John told me that Del (the VP in Dallas) had called and wanted me to see if we could demonstrate the plant for the Texas Highway department in Amarillo…it would mean at least five or six more sales…but that’s the next post…
Friday, August 21, 2009
Madness and Irishmen - Part 2
Well, I started working my way through the best prospects for the screening plants we sold and was really fortunate that the Vice President at one of the largest companies who made the buying decisions was originally from Minnesota (I found out later that nobody admitted to being from Dallas). We really hit it off from the first meeting, and he told me that if my “Irish Harp” could screen the material called caliche that the railroad used for laying track base that he would purchase at least ten machines which was about a half million dollar sale. Well, I didn’t have a clue as to whether or not the machine could screen this material…but again “faint heart never filled a flush”. He introduced me to another vice president (you now understand why I had the cards made) named Buck. He was a “Good Old Boy” and we got along fine…I even drank Jack Daniels with him (which I detested).
Now when I was at the executive offices I was wearing a three piece suit and Florshiem Wingtips…Buck assured me that if I wanted to do any business in Texas I couldn’t dress like that. He took me to a boot shop and bought me a pair of very expensive snakeskin boots. I later went to another store and bought a half dozen pair of jeans and some casual shirts that I would wear open-necked. I was all set to head for West Texas and a lot of new experiences. Our destination was Van Horn, Texas…one hundred and fifty miles from nowhere. Now I mentioned before that these were portable plants, our competitors had what they called portable plants but they needed to be loaded on the flatbed of a semi and hauled from place to place. This screening plant had wheels and could be pulled by a half-ton pickup.
When I got to Van Horn, Buck asked me: “Where’s your pistol…you can shoot, can’t you?” I told him I was a “crack shot” with a rifle, but really wasn’t “worth a damn” with a pistol. He told me “If you are in West Texas for any length of time you will be.” The next morning I figured out what he was talking about…as the sun got hotter more and more Diamondbacks came out to sun themselves…I bought a .38 that afternoon. When Terry (the 24 year-old Vice President of Operations) showed up with the portable plant all of the men in the quarry really thought this was a big joke. Terry’s first words were: “Eddie, me lad you wouldn’t have a drink about you now, that drive definitely parched me throat.” I offered him some water that I had bought earlier and he said: “that shite is only good for washing…I’m looking for a Bushmill or even a Jamison.” I promised to make sure he had plenty to drink after he had everything set up. We need to “test the screening plant on the material. Terry looked at the material and said: “Laddie that is some nasty shite, but just wait and see what ‘Mollie’ does to it.” (I found out later that each of the plants he used had a girl’s name). By the end of the second day we had the entire operation in absolute awe…we “screened” everything they gave us faster than they thought possible. They didn’t buy ten machines, they bought twelve and gave us orders to head to Shreveport, Louisiana to see if we could screen some material that was so nasty that it had never been done. I hadn’t been in Texas for two weeks and we already had written $750,000 in business. I was extremely full of myself!
More about that in my next post…
Now when I was at the executive offices I was wearing a three piece suit and Florshiem Wingtips…Buck assured me that if I wanted to do any business in Texas I couldn’t dress like that. He took me to a boot shop and bought me a pair of very expensive snakeskin boots. I later went to another store and bought a half dozen pair of jeans and some casual shirts that I would wear open-necked. I was all set to head for West Texas and a lot of new experiences. Our destination was Van Horn, Texas…one hundred and fifty miles from nowhere. Now I mentioned before that these were portable plants, our competitors had what they called portable plants but they needed to be loaded on the flatbed of a semi and hauled from place to place. This screening plant had wheels and could be pulled by a half-ton pickup.
When I got to Van Horn, Buck asked me: “Where’s your pistol…you can shoot, can’t you?” I told him I was a “crack shot” with a rifle, but really wasn’t “worth a damn” with a pistol. He told me “If you are in West Texas for any length of time you will be.” The next morning I figured out what he was talking about…as the sun got hotter more and more Diamondbacks came out to sun themselves…I bought a .38 that afternoon. When Terry (the 24 year-old Vice President of Operations) showed up with the portable plant all of the men in the quarry really thought this was a big joke. Terry’s first words were: “Eddie, me lad you wouldn’t have a drink about you now, that drive definitely parched me throat.” I offered him some water that I had bought earlier and he said: “that shite is only good for washing…I’m looking for a Bushmill or even a Jamison.” I promised to make sure he had plenty to drink after he had everything set up. We need to “test the screening plant on the material. Terry looked at the material and said: “Laddie that is some nasty shite, but just wait and see what ‘Mollie’ does to it.” (I found out later that each of the plants he used had a girl’s name). By the end of the second day we had the entire operation in absolute awe…we “screened” everything they gave us faster than they thought possible. They didn’t buy ten machines, they bought twelve and gave us orders to head to Shreveport, Louisiana to see if we could screen some material that was so nasty that it had never been done. I hadn’t been in Texas for two weeks and we already had written $750,000 in business. I was extremely full of myself!
More about that in my next post…
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Madness and Irishmen - Part 1
The company that I chose to join when Bell wouldn’t let me be a manager, was an Irish Screening Plant company out of Northern Ireland. The President of the company had been wooing me and my wife for about six months…I knew a great deal about their company from working with them as a Phone Power consultant. I liked all the people and the amount of fun they were able to have at work. Now you need to understand that I didn’t know the first thing about the product they were selling…which happened to be a very inexpensive portable screening plant for use in quarries or on highway jobs, or any of a number of other applications.
The first thing I realized was that they didn’t have a technical manual for the screening plant, and this was significant because most of the executives making the buying decisions had engineering backgrounds and wouldn’t even look at anything without looking at a tech manual first. I mentioned this to John (the President) and his response was… “Well, write one me lad.” I told him that I need to be able to do some immediate road trips to identify the first target customers and his response “Ye have all those beautiful evenings with nothing to do me wee lad, carry home an Old Bushmill and it will fortify you while write.” Well in those days I was so “full of my self”…that I agreed, and told him I would have it completed in six weeks…John said “Won’t do, laddie…we will need it in four, pretty bound copies and all.” Now this was the man who didn’t even realize that he needed it before I brought it to his attention, and now it had to be in the customer’s hands in four weeks.
I had already determined that Texas was the place to start because they had the most applications for the product, and the biggest highway budget in the country. So I stopped off at three competitors and picked up their manuals under the guise of being a new quarry owner in the area, and jumped on a plane for Dallas.
Now you have to understand that I lived most of my life following the advice of the Great Philosopher Brett Maverick, “Faint heart never filled a flush.” I attempted to make appointments with the biggest potential customers based in Dallas…the key was not to call on the phone and be written off as just another Damn Yankee. I went to the offices in person with a bouquet of flowers for my target’s secretary, and my appointment book just filled itself like magic.
By reading and re-reading my competitor’s technical manuals…I discovered what the consensus was concerning what potential customers should know…but they were as dry as a Quaker sermon. I decided that ours would be different it would be a tech manual with a noticeable marketing twist. I "gotter done", and John loved it…this was good because I told him I needed to be Vice President of the Southwest Region (with a pay cut and a percentage of the business that I personally generated) and I need business cards with that title before I returned to Dallas. I don’t know how he did it but there were two boxes of extremely professional business cards (complete with my new title) on my desk two days later along with my plane tickets to Dallas.
I think I need to continue this in the next post..
The first thing I realized was that they didn’t have a technical manual for the screening plant, and this was significant because most of the executives making the buying decisions had engineering backgrounds and wouldn’t even look at anything without looking at a tech manual first. I mentioned this to John (the President) and his response was… “Well, write one me lad.” I told him that I need to be able to do some immediate road trips to identify the first target customers and his response “Ye have all those beautiful evenings with nothing to do me wee lad, carry home an Old Bushmill and it will fortify you while write.” Well in those days I was so “full of my self”…that I agreed, and told him I would have it completed in six weeks…John said “Won’t do, laddie…we will need it in four, pretty bound copies and all.” Now this was the man who didn’t even realize that he needed it before I brought it to his attention, and now it had to be in the customer’s hands in four weeks.
I had already determined that Texas was the place to start because they had the most applications for the product, and the biggest highway budget in the country. So I stopped off at three competitors and picked up their manuals under the guise of being a new quarry owner in the area, and jumped on a plane for Dallas.
Now you have to understand that I lived most of my life following the advice of the Great Philosopher Brett Maverick, “Faint heart never filled a flush.” I attempted to make appointments with the biggest potential customers based in Dallas…the key was not to call on the phone and be written off as just another Damn Yankee. I went to the offices in person with a bouquet of flowers for my target’s secretary, and my appointment book just filled itself like magic.
By reading and re-reading my competitor’s technical manuals…I discovered what the consensus was concerning what potential customers should know…but they were as dry as a Quaker sermon. I decided that ours would be different it would be a tech manual with a noticeable marketing twist. I "gotter done", and John loved it…this was good because I told him I needed to be Vice President of the Southwest Region (with a pay cut and a percentage of the business that I personally generated) and I need business cards with that title before I returned to Dallas. I don’t know how he did it but there were two boxes of extremely professional business cards (complete with my new title) on my desk two days later along with my plane tickets to Dallas.
I think I need to continue this in the next post..
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Adventures in Telephony
My last posting was so boring that I fell asleep a couple of times writing it, let’s hope that I do better this morning!
Even though I was in a management development program at Bell, I started on the bottom rung in Marketing. I was a communications rep…it didn’t take very long for management to determine that I had a knack for the job. I was ambitious and ended up writing all the orders for Ramsey County (it as a prestige assignment) where I did well enough to be promoted into a “real” sales position in something called Phone Power. This was a very innovative program as it was selling a product so subtlety, that the customer was rarely aware of the product.
The concept was to work with very select customers who had the potential to use a great deal of long distance service such as a collections agency that did business nation-wide. We would start the customer on a bank of measured WATS lines (bulk-rated long distance), and then provide training for their collectors on how to maximize the effectiveness of their calls. It was actually the forerunner of many other programs which were in the category of consultative selling. On my own I developed a program for recruiting new students using a “bank” of “800” numbers for Hamline University. I understood the value of networking in business much earlier than the general business community…this coupled with a few other programs allowed me to become the top sales person in the Bell System that year. My wife and I got to so to San Diego for a big recognition party, go to Pasadena for the Super Bowl (the Vikes got their butts handed to them by the Raiders), and either go to Tijuana for a shopping trip or go deep sea fishing.
Guess where we went, and it wasn’t deep sea fishing which I always wanted to do!
When I got back, I requested an opportunity to run a “sales crew”. This was flatly denied on the basis that I was far too valuable where I was…so I went to work for one of my Phone Power customers, and that’s the next post.
Even though I was in a management development program at Bell, I started on the bottom rung in Marketing. I was a communications rep…it didn’t take very long for management to determine that I had a knack for the job. I was ambitious and ended up writing all the orders for Ramsey County (it as a prestige assignment) where I did well enough to be promoted into a “real” sales position in something called Phone Power. This was a very innovative program as it was selling a product so subtlety, that the customer was rarely aware of the product.
The concept was to work with very select customers who had the potential to use a great deal of long distance service such as a collections agency that did business nation-wide. We would start the customer on a bank of measured WATS lines (bulk-rated long distance), and then provide training for their collectors on how to maximize the effectiveness of their calls. It was actually the forerunner of many other programs which were in the category of consultative selling. On my own I developed a program for recruiting new students using a “bank” of “800” numbers for Hamline University. I understood the value of networking in business much earlier than the general business community…this coupled with a few other programs allowed me to become the top sales person in the Bell System that year. My wife and I got to so to San Diego for a big recognition party, go to Pasadena for the Super Bowl (the Vikes got their butts handed to them by the Raiders), and either go to Tijuana for a shopping trip or go deep sea fishing.
Guess where we went, and it wasn’t deep sea fishing which I always wanted to do!
When I got back, I requested an opportunity to run a “sales crew”. This was flatly denied on the basis that I was far too valuable where I was…so I went to work for one of my Phone Power customers, and that’s the next post.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
School Daze
After my four years in the Air Force I attempted several short term jobs without a great deal of success. Then I decided to return to school. This was a momentous decision for me because I had “fooled around” at the University of Minnesota long enough to have earned a negative grade point average. I attended Lakewood Community College (now Century) for one year including both summer sessions and was able to finish two years, get an Associate in Arts degree with a 3.68 GPA, while forming a Vet’s Club and doing some very serious partying. This was the time where ‘free love” ruled, and I must admit being an older student on campus was a tremendous advantage…it proved the old adage “Age and experience…”
While at Lakewood my fellow Vets and I absolutely terrorized the campus. I got the College President to be our adviser. He was a former Navy Captain and provided all the cover we needed to run our escapades. We threw parties that rivaled Animal House. Most were at a bar in Wisconsin called Archie’s. There were a few reasons for selecting that venue…the first being 18-year old drinking, the second being that Archie would close the place down except for us. The other place where we had great parties was that Rathskeller at Hamm’s Brewery. My charm, coupled the Brewery’s desire to capture a lot of new beer drinkers enabled us to consume as many kegs of free beer as we could
(they even provided all the snacks and sandwiches). Never underestimate the value of Bullshit!!
After Lakewood, I was recruited as part of a Transfer Program by Hamline University. They wanted me to set-up a Veteran’s Affairs Office and campus and in turn because of my grades and the endorsements of my instructors, I got a “free ride” in turn. I married my first wife (the mother of all three of my children) before starting Hamline. I enjoyed my time at Hamline immensely and thrived in a small private college atmosphere and was maintaining a 3.75 GPA in a college which had much higher academic standards. I left without my BA and that is one of the few regrets I have in life.
More in my next post…
While at Lakewood my fellow Vets and I absolutely terrorized the campus. I got the College President to be our adviser. He was a former Navy Captain and provided all the cover we needed to run our escapades. We threw parties that rivaled Animal House. Most were at a bar in Wisconsin called Archie’s. There were a few reasons for selecting that venue…the first being 18-year old drinking, the second being that Archie would close the place down except for us. The other place where we had great parties was that Rathskeller at Hamm’s Brewery. My charm, coupled the Brewery’s desire to capture a lot of new beer drinkers enabled us to consume as many kegs of free beer as we could
(they even provided all the snacks and sandwiches). Never underestimate the value of Bullshit!!
After Lakewood, I was recruited as part of a Transfer Program by Hamline University. They wanted me to set-up a Veteran’s Affairs Office and campus and in turn because of my grades and the endorsements of my instructors, I got a “free ride” in turn. I married my first wife (the mother of all three of my children) before starting Hamline. I enjoyed my time at Hamline immensely and thrived in a small private college atmosphere and was maintaining a 3.75 GPA in a college which had much higher academic standards. I left without my BA and that is one of the few regrets I have in life.
More in my next post…
Monday, August 17, 2009
Stateside Duty
When I left Istanbul, I was allowed to go on leave for a month before my next assignment.
I was assigned to Westover AFB near Springfield, Massachusetts. However, this was merely the "jumping off" point for a series of Temporary Duty (TDY) Assignments. Over the next year and a half, my life was more “normal” Air Force than it was in Turkey. I was back to wearing a uniform everyday and living in a barracks. My duty assignment changed drastically too. I was now responsible for searching out and documenting security violations. I attempted to document who was passing classified information on “open” telephone lines, and predicting the movements of the Strategic Air Command. It was a “Country Club” assignment mostly because we were commanded by Major Delaney, who was really only concerned with his golf game. As long as we kept the operation running smoothly, he was not involved with mundane issues, and he could play golf…he was happy.
The only thing that “sort of sucked” was that I was the only single NCO and was therefore in charge of running the barracks and “babysitting” fifty young Airmen. I was called by the Air Police several times a month to come and pick up some of my “people” who were drunk, and would face charges if I did not come and get them immediately. There was a great deal of standing in the shower holding up a “young troop” who had too much to drink, being “hurled on”, and trying to get them sober enough for duty the next morning. It was a real joy!
Part of our job assignment was to provide documentation for the Operational Readiness Teams who flew in unannounced and inspected a Bomb Wing for how well they could respond to an attack. Sometimes this meant the end of a career for a General or “Bird” Colonel. The other aspect (as I stated earlier) was to insure that the President, Vice President and personnel in Congress were not discussing classified information on “open lines”. You can’t believe the amount of tact required to tell people at this level to SHUT THE DUCK UP. Those of you who know me well…know that tact is one of my strong suits.
For the most part it was a lark, and there was enough free time that several buddies and I rented a cottage on Cape Cod for two summers. I assure you that we had an absolute BLAST.
It was also very interesting (although not as exciting as Turkey) as I was assigned to the Pentagon for about three months and got to enjoy Washington, D C, and the ten to one ratio of women to men. I had time enough to watch the House and Senate in operation, to personally visit my Senator (Walter F. Mondale) who I met socially several times over the next few years. More about that in a later log.
I got to see upstate New York (which is very beautiful), Massachusetts in the fall (which has the most incredible colors), and romance several very lovely women.
Until next post, ENJOY!
I was assigned to Westover AFB near Springfield, Massachusetts. However, this was merely the "jumping off" point for a series of Temporary Duty (TDY) Assignments. Over the next year and a half, my life was more “normal” Air Force than it was in Turkey. I was back to wearing a uniform everyday and living in a barracks. My duty assignment changed drastically too. I was now responsible for searching out and documenting security violations. I attempted to document who was passing classified information on “open” telephone lines, and predicting the movements of the Strategic Air Command. It was a “Country Club” assignment mostly because we were commanded by Major Delaney, who was really only concerned with his golf game. As long as we kept the operation running smoothly, he was not involved with mundane issues, and he could play golf…he was happy.
The only thing that “sort of sucked” was that I was the only single NCO and was therefore in charge of running the barracks and “babysitting” fifty young Airmen. I was called by the Air Police several times a month to come and pick up some of my “people” who were drunk, and would face charges if I did not come and get them immediately. There was a great deal of standing in the shower holding up a “young troop” who had too much to drink, being “hurled on”, and trying to get them sober enough for duty the next morning. It was a real joy!
Part of our job assignment was to provide documentation for the Operational Readiness Teams who flew in unannounced and inspected a Bomb Wing for how well they could respond to an attack. Sometimes this meant the end of a career for a General or “Bird” Colonel. The other aspect (as I stated earlier) was to insure that the President, Vice President and personnel in Congress were not discussing classified information on “open lines”. You can’t believe the amount of tact required to tell people at this level to SHUT THE DUCK UP. Those of you who know me well…know that tact is one of my strong suits.
For the most part it was a lark, and there was enough free time that several buddies and I rented a cottage on Cape Cod for two summers. I assure you that we had an absolute BLAST.
It was also very interesting (although not as exciting as Turkey) as I was assigned to the Pentagon for about three months and got to enjoy Washington, D C, and the ten to one ratio of women to men. I had time enough to watch the House and Senate in operation, to personally visit my Senator (Walter F. Mondale) who I met socially several times over the next few years. More about that in a later log.
I got to see upstate New York (which is very beautiful), Massachusetts in the fall (which has the most incredible colors), and romance several very lovely women.
Until next post, ENJOY!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Some Adventures of a Bad Boy
Getting to Istanbul was an experience unto itself...I was traveling category Z (military personnel in civilian clothes) and I was caught up in the “Great Pan American Strike” which lasted about twenty three days as I remember.
I was fortunate to get a BOAC flight to London because flying category Z meant that you could and, and did get "bumped" all the time. I was able to spend three wonderful days and nights touring the sights and sounds…I saw the Tower of London, Westminister Abby, Buckingham Palace, Pickadilly Circus, and ride their wonderful TUBE. I also met three birds and we enjoyed each other immensely (remember that this was the 60’s).
From there I got an Air France flight to Paris and was only there long enough to experience how dirty the “City of Lights was, and how rude the people were.
Next I got a Lufthansa flight to Frankfort and was there only long enough to drink a few German beers and notice how well-kept and clean Frankfort was.
From there I was lucky enough to get an Alitalia flight to Athens and was really fortunate that nothing was flying out of Athens. I spent eight wonderful days touring Athens and the Greek Isles, dancing and throwing plates with the Greek men, like Zorba the Greek. Also, I met four or five wonderfully friendly Greek girls. For someone as interested in history and WOMEN it was an excellent time.
I was finally able to get an Ethiopian Air flight to Istanbul, but I got in too late to check in!!
Now you must understand that I was never in Wilt “the Stilt” Chamberlain’s league with 20, 000 conquests…but, I was “Bad Boy” enough to be worried about STDs, unwanted births, and many more serious things.
I am happy that I survived without damage, and in many ways I am thrilled that I matured enough not to “count notches”, but build a REAL relationship.
Do I have any regrets…Hell No!!
Please don’t judge me too harshly…it was a different time!
I was fortunate to get a BOAC flight to London because flying category Z meant that you could and, and did get "bumped" all the time. I was able to spend three wonderful days and nights touring the sights and sounds…I saw the Tower of London, Westminister Abby, Buckingham Palace, Pickadilly Circus, and ride their wonderful TUBE. I also met three birds and we enjoyed each other immensely (remember that this was the 60’s).
From there I got an Air France flight to Paris and was only there long enough to experience how dirty the “City of Lights was, and how rude the people were.
Next I got a Lufthansa flight to Frankfort and was there only long enough to drink a few German beers and notice how well-kept and clean Frankfort was.
From there I was lucky enough to get an Alitalia flight to Athens and was really fortunate that nothing was flying out of Athens. I spent eight wonderful days touring Athens and the Greek Isles, dancing and throwing plates with the Greek men, like Zorba the Greek. Also, I met four or five wonderfully friendly Greek girls. For someone as interested in history and WOMEN it was an excellent time.
I was finally able to get an Ethiopian Air flight to Istanbul, but I got in too late to check in!!
Now you must understand that I was never in Wilt “the Stilt” Chamberlain’s league with 20, 000 conquests…but, I was “Bad Boy” enough to be worried about STDs, unwanted births, and many more serious things.
I am happy that I survived without damage, and in many ways I am thrilled that I matured enough not to “count notches”, but build a REAL relationship.
Do I have any regrets…Hell No!!
Please don’t judge me too harshly…it was a different time!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Was that Deja Vu All Over Again
In an earlier posting I mentioned the difficulty in determining memories from those things that had been retold so many times that they are thought to be memories. The following are not really in that category...but not explained very easily.
First, When I was in Istanbul I constantly had the sense of deja vu. Case in point: as I was wandering around the "Old City" I found a restaurant (the Yeni Regence or New Regency) and I was positive that I had been there before, this restaurant had a whole lot of history as it was the place where the Bolshoviks plotted the Russian Revolution. I knew the exact table where Lenin, Trotsky and the Boys were sitting, and in my "minds eye" I could actually see them. Did I remember and old photograph that I had seen in a biography or history book? Was I there in an earlier life? Or was there another explanation completely?
This happened many times as I explored the City...I experienced the sense of being there at another time, during different circumstances. It was if I had grown up in Istanbul, I never needed a map to find the old places in the City, only the new ones! Enough about my mental aberrations for now...but I may recount some more in a later post.
Back to Istanbul...
My first impression involved the sounds of the calling of prayer times throughout the city...there was a very large Muslim population while I was there and they may be the majority now. The City is dotted with Mosques and from each you could hear the "prayer call" several times a day. There was also the constant sound of sub machine gun fire as the Turkish Military Police (Oskars) shot the rats that were everywhere (some were the size of Cocker Spaniels).
Another impression involved sight, and the dichotomy between the "New City" and the "Old". Modern office buildings, discotheques, fashionable clothing stores, and modern department stores were only blocks from Mosques and structures that were centuries old.
And then there were those impressions created by the sense of smell. Beyond a doubt those memories are the most lasting. Turkey did not treat sewage and the smell of raw feces was overwhelming when you first got there, that coupled with the smell of raw, rotting fish is something that stays with you all of your life...but after six months or so, you really didn't notice it.
More of Istanbul in future posts.
First, When I was in Istanbul I constantly had the sense of deja vu. Case in point: as I was wandering around the "Old City" I found a restaurant (the Yeni Regence or New Regency) and I was positive that I had been there before, this restaurant had a whole lot of history as it was the place where the Bolshoviks plotted the Russian Revolution. I knew the exact table where Lenin, Trotsky and the Boys were sitting, and in my "minds eye" I could actually see them. Did I remember and old photograph that I had seen in a biography or history book? Was I there in an earlier life? Or was there another explanation completely?
This happened many times as I explored the City...I experienced the sense of being there at another time, during different circumstances. It was if I had grown up in Istanbul, I never needed a map to find the old places in the City, only the new ones! Enough about my mental aberrations for now...but I may recount some more in a later post.
Back to Istanbul...
My first impression involved the sounds of the calling of prayer times throughout the city...there was a very large Muslim population while I was there and they may be the majority now. The City is dotted with Mosques and from each you could hear the "prayer call" several times a day. There was also the constant sound of sub machine gun fire as the Turkish Military Police (Oskars) shot the rats that were everywhere (some were the size of Cocker Spaniels).
Another impression involved sight, and the dichotomy between the "New City" and the "Old". Modern office buildings, discotheques, fashionable clothing stores, and modern department stores were only blocks from Mosques and structures that were centuries old.
And then there were those impressions created by the sense of smell. Beyond a doubt those memories are the most lasting. Turkey did not treat sewage and the smell of raw feces was overwhelming when you first got there, that coupled with the smell of raw, rotting fish is something that stays with you all of your life...but after six months or so, you really didn't notice it.
More of Istanbul in future posts.
Friday, August 14, 2009
From Russia With Love
Many of my younger readers may not be aware that Ian Fleming wrote the James Bond series completely as a satire on the Intelligence Community and on espionage in general. Bond was right about one thing however, and that was the amount of intelligence that could be "gleaned" through "pillow talk". The book and the movie From Russia With Love was set in Istanbul, and was filmed just prior to my arrival. Whenever I get nostalgic, I watch the movie and it takes me back all those years to a very exciting period in my life. All of the sights, sounds and smells of Turkey come rushing back.
If you remember one of the early sequences in the movie, Bond was taken to a Gypsy Camp and met a beautiful Gypsy girl. The Gypsy's were Armenians who settled in Turkey and were persecuted on a regular basis. As late as the early Twentieth Century, there was some "ethnic cleansing" involving the Armenians.
Sometime in the first month that I was in Istanbul, I met Zeckiya...a beautiful seventeen year old belly dancer. We lived together for most of my tour of duty in Turkey. You have to remember that I wasn't the grizzled old wolf that I have become, but still a pup in many ways. There are many stories to share about this wild Armenian girl, who preferred to call herself Gilda, a name she had chosen to use as a dancer...I always called her Zeckiya and sometimes she called me Yahootie (Turkish for Jew). She thought that I didn't spend much money on her...I told her that I provided the roof she and her brother lived under, the food they ate and bought her clothes, and an occasional trinket. But, she was right...I didn't spend a lot of money on her because that would have made our situation "dirty" and it would have tarnished it enough that I wouldn't have enjoyed it.
Zeckiya was a lot of fun, a lot of trouble, and at times a very valuable resource. By virtue of her profession, she met a lot of men and they told her things, and in turn she told me things. She provided me with information I could never have gotten on my own, and never realised what she was doing.
Our routine was to have an early dinner and I would catch her first show and then go back to the apartment and sleep. Most of the time she worked until two or three in the morning. She would come back to the apartment and be all excited and want to talk about all the things that had happened over the course of the evening. There was one time I remember that I didn't wake up fast enough and she started "tatooing my head" with the spiked heel of her shoe. She was not dressed, so I wrapped her in a sheet...threw her into the hall and locked the door, and went back to sleep.
Another time we were sitting at a bar having drinks when the bartender made an obscene remark to her and she spit in his face...I thought the whole situation was very comical, but the bartender didn't grasp the humor and came across the bar with a knife in his hand. He got me once before I could disarm him, and turn him over to the tender mercies of a few of my Turkish police friends. I ended up spending the rest of the evening getting "stitched up" by an Armenian Doctor that Zechiya knew.
I will probably return to this era from time to time as there are a lot more stories that happened in Istanbul, but I will close this log out for now.
Until next time!!
If you remember one of the early sequences in the movie, Bond was taken to a Gypsy Camp and met a beautiful Gypsy girl. The Gypsy's were Armenians who settled in Turkey and were persecuted on a regular basis. As late as the early Twentieth Century, there was some "ethnic cleansing" involving the Armenians.
Sometime in the first month that I was in Istanbul, I met Zeckiya...a beautiful seventeen year old belly dancer. We lived together for most of my tour of duty in Turkey. You have to remember that I wasn't the grizzled old wolf that I have become, but still a pup in many ways. There are many stories to share about this wild Armenian girl, who preferred to call herself Gilda, a name she had chosen to use as a dancer...I always called her Zeckiya and sometimes she called me Yahootie (Turkish for Jew). She thought that I didn't spend much money on her...I told her that I provided the roof she and her brother lived under, the food they ate and bought her clothes, and an occasional trinket. But, she was right...I didn't spend a lot of money on her because that would have made our situation "dirty" and it would have tarnished it enough that I wouldn't have enjoyed it.
Zeckiya was a lot of fun, a lot of trouble, and at times a very valuable resource. By virtue of her profession, she met a lot of men and they told her things, and in turn she told me things. She provided me with information I could never have gotten on my own, and never realised what she was doing.
Our routine was to have an early dinner and I would catch her first show and then go back to the apartment and sleep. Most of the time she worked until two or three in the morning. She would come back to the apartment and be all excited and want to talk about all the things that had happened over the course of the evening. There was one time I remember that I didn't wake up fast enough and she started "tatooing my head" with the spiked heel of her shoe. She was not dressed, so I wrapped her in a sheet...threw her into the hall and locked the door, and went back to sleep.
Another time we were sitting at a bar having drinks when the bartender made an obscene remark to her and she spit in his face...I thought the whole situation was very comical, but the bartender didn't grasp the humor and came across the bar with a knife in his hand. He got me once before I could disarm him, and turn him over to the tender mercies of a few of my Turkish police friends. I ended up spending the rest of the evening getting "stitched up" by an Armenian Doctor that Zechiya knew.
I will probably return to this era from time to time as there are a lot more stories that happened in Istanbul, but I will close this log out for now.
Until next time!!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Flacker Days
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...I was a "Flacker" (that's what the other Armed Services personnel called Air Force personnel).
I already touched on this in my earlier logs...but here is a little more. The ex-Marine Training Instructors were MSGT Taylor, TSGT Biles, and a SSGT we called "Hollywood" (behind his back). Sergeant Biles was the one who singled me out for "special care". Because we were in an experimental program, our basic training was compressed and shortened. If you think about it, this really invalidates the experiment because there was no real control group...and the personnel for this "Flight" (a group of 50 men) were "hand-picked" because the scored high on all the entrance test and most had some college...maybe that's why they dropped it, or maybe they dropped it because it was a "dumb idea" to start with.
Of the fifty in the Flight, I think 35 ended up in Military Intelligence. Some went to Biloxi, Mississippi for training, some went to Monterrey, California, some went to Bloomington, Indiana, some went to Cambridge, Massachusetts, and I and about four others went to San Angelo, Texas. Those of us from my Flight were added to other flights...there were about 250 of us who went through training at the same time. We all had very elite Top Secret clearances...so you will forgive me if I don't go into any details about what we did (yes, even after all these years). Suffice it to say we were analysts!! The training was very intense and was broken into four hour blocks. We had an early breakfast (6 AM) and began the first block at Seven O'clock...we broke at Eleven for lunch...began the second block at Noon...broke at Four for dinner...and started the final block at Five. After we finished at Nine, we still had about two hours of homework each evening. There wasn't a lot of time to "fool around" because the curriculum was set up on a six day training week. We really enjoyed Sundays...because after a mandatory Seven AM chapel...the rest of the day was ours (except for the four hours required to complete homework assignments). The program ran for six months culminating in Graduation (complete with a big party). There was an incentive for finishing "Number One" in the class of 250...you got to pick the country you were going to serve in for the next two years. The choices were: England, Germany, Italy, Crete, Japan, Turkey, and Pakistan. I "busted my hump" to finish number one and I was positive that I was going to England, but I didn't get the choice because they needed someone with my skills and abilities in Istanbul...the military never did have a good track record for keeping promises.
After completing training I got a 10-day leave to visit my family...and then set off for Istanbul.
That's the next post!!
I already touched on this in my earlier logs...but here is a little more. The ex-Marine Training Instructors were MSGT Taylor, TSGT Biles, and a SSGT we called "Hollywood" (behind his back). Sergeant Biles was the one who singled me out for "special care". Because we were in an experimental program, our basic training was compressed and shortened. If you think about it, this really invalidates the experiment because there was no real control group...and the personnel for this "Flight" (a group of 50 men) were "hand-picked" because the scored high on all the entrance test and most had some college...maybe that's why they dropped it, or maybe they dropped it because it was a "dumb idea" to start with.
Of the fifty in the Flight, I think 35 ended up in Military Intelligence. Some went to Biloxi, Mississippi for training, some went to Monterrey, California, some went to Bloomington, Indiana, some went to Cambridge, Massachusetts, and I and about four others went to San Angelo, Texas. Those of us from my Flight were added to other flights...there were about 250 of us who went through training at the same time. We all had very elite Top Secret clearances...so you will forgive me if I don't go into any details about what we did (yes, even after all these years). Suffice it to say we were analysts!! The training was very intense and was broken into four hour blocks. We had an early breakfast (6 AM) and began the first block at Seven O'clock...we broke at Eleven for lunch...began the second block at Noon...broke at Four for dinner...and started the final block at Five. After we finished at Nine, we still had about two hours of homework each evening. There wasn't a lot of time to "fool around" because the curriculum was set up on a six day training week. We really enjoyed Sundays...because after a mandatory Seven AM chapel...the rest of the day was ours (except for the four hours required to complete homework assignments). The program ran for six months culminating in Graduation (complete with a big party). There was an incentive for finishing "Number One" in the class of 250...you got to pick the country you were going to serve in for the next two years. The choices were: England, Germany, Italy, Crete, Japan, Turkey, and Pakistan. I "busted my hump" to finish number one and I was positive that I was going to England, but I didn't get the choice because they needed someone with my skills and abilities in Istanbul...the military never did have a good track record for keeping promises.
After completing training I got a 10-day leave to visit my family...and then set off for Istanbul.
That's the next post!!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
What a Long Strange Trip It's Been
The title to the greatest hits of the Grateful Dead seems to be a perfect description of my life.
In March of 1982 (I was 39) I had a massive coronary which destroyed the bottom third of my heart. The cardiologists gave me five years "at the outside".
Fooled them!!
Right now I am the most content I have been in years, my new bride can take most of the credit for that and some goes to my Little Girls (who can always make me smile)! I have new energy, new directions, and better health than I have had in about five years.
It is really hard for me to believe that next summer is the fiftieth year Reunion of the Class of 1960 of Johnson High School, or that it has been 41 years since I was discharged from the Air Force, or that it has been 35 years since I have been in a classroom.
I hope to take a class or two this Fall, but they will be entirely online...it still should be interesting. I'm hoping to finish another couple of degrees...not for any reason than self-actualization, to keep the "brain farts" to a minimum, and to give me a purpose for the next few years.
But enough of that, it's time to go back to recounting my adventures and misadventures...
When I enlisted in the Air Force it was to be in Military Intelligence (I know, I know, that's and oxymoron). I took the equivalent of three years of Russian in a period of about six months and spent another six months learning intelligence skills and techniques. I was then assigned to Istanbul, Turkey for a little over two years. Much more on this period in later web logs, I then returned to the "States" and was assigned to Westover AFB in Springfield, Massachusetts...but really it was just a jumping off point for TDY (temporary duty assignments) all over the East Coast. More about that in later web logs too.
When I got out of the Air Force I went back to college on the GI Bill and finished a two year Associates Degree in less than a year...and qualified for a "Free Ride" toward a BA in American Studies at Hamline University. I was all set-up for a three year PHD Program at the University of Minnesota...but my wife got pregnant with my son and I needed to find a job.
I refer you back to the assessment experiment in the last log.
I went to work for Northwestern Bell and worked for them for about five years, worked for a company out of Northern Ireland for about three years, went back to Bell and ended up at AT&T. I was the top salesman in the country for them for about two years in a row...but they wouldn't allow me to manage my own "crew". So I went to work for CONTEL and had a really great time...they gave me all the freedom that I wanted, but they got swallowed up by GTE and I was odd man out. I went to work for the German company SEIMENS, which was not a match for my personality and skills, so I went to work as a General Manager for VICOM (one of their Gold Seal Dealers). I fit into this company really well and had a lot of fun until I started having more heart issues and had to retire from the telephone industry.
The next phase of my life was pretty depressing...but I made it through everything and was able to keep my "Polyanna outlook" for the most part.
We will take some more side trips in future logs but right now I will leave you with this quote from Jerry Garcia "And for me there's still more material than 20 lifetimes could use up."
My feelings exactly!!
In March of 1982 (I was 39) I had a massive coronary which destroyed the bottom third of my heart. The cardiologists gave me five years "at the outside".
Fooled them!!
Right now I am the most content I have been in years, my new bride can take most of the credit for that and some goes to my Little Girls (who can always make me smile)! I have new energy, new directions, and better health than I have had in about five years.
It is really hard for me to believe that next summer is the fiftieth year Reunion of the Class of 1960 of Johnson High School, or that it has been 41 years since I was discharged from the Air Force, or that it has been 35 years since I have been in a classroom.
I hope to take a class or two this Fall, but they will be entirely online...it still should be interesting. I'm hoping to finish another couple of degrees...not for any reason than self-actualization, to keep the "brain farts" to a minimum, and to give me a purpose for the next few years.
But enough of that, it's time to go back to recounting my adventures and misadventures...
When I enlisted in the Air Force it was to be in Military Intelligence (I know, I know, that's and oxymoron). I took the equivalent of three years of Russian in a period of about six months and spent another six months learning intelligence skills and techniques. I was then assigned to Istanbul, Turkey for a little over two years. Much more on this period in later web logs, I then returned to the "States" and was assigned to Westover AFB in Springfield, Massachusetts...but really it was just a jumping off point for TDY (temporary duty assignments) all over the East Coast. More about that in later web logs too.
When I got out of the Air Force I went back to college on the GI Bill and finished a two year Associates Degree in less than a year...and qualified for a "Free Ride" toward a BA in American Studies at Hamline University. I was all set-up for a three year PHD Program at the University of Minnesota...but my wife got pregnant with my son and I needed to find a job.
I refer you back to the assessment experiment in the last log.
I went to work for Northwestern Bell and worked for them for about five years, worked for a company out of Northern Ireland for about three years, went back to Bell and ended up at AT&T. I was the top salesman in the country for them for about two years in a row...but they wouldn't allow me to manage my own "crew". So I went to work for CONTEL and had a really great time...they gave me all the freedom that I wanted, but they got swallowed up by GTE and I was odd man out. I went to work for the German company SEIMENS, which was not a match for my personality and skills, so I went to work as a General Manager for VICOM (one of their Gold Seal Dealers). I fit into this company really well and had a lot of fun until I started having more heart issues and had to retire from the telephone industry.
The next phase of my life was pretty depressing...but I made it through everything and was able to keep my "Polyanna outlook" for the most part.
We will take some more side trips in future logs but right now I will leave you with this quote from Jerry Garcia "And for me there's still more material than 20 lifetimes could use up."
My feelings exactly!!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Life in a Petri Dish
As I look back into my distant past, I get the impression that I was always part of an experiment.
A few examples occur to me immediately:
When I had rheumatic fever I went to school one year via the telephone. A dedicated line was provided for intercom service at Cleveland Junior High School in Saint Paul...this was provided as a free service by Bell (their motivation was not all humanitarian since they were looking for a new application for a service that they had designed years earlier). The only real disadvantage to the system was that it used and Executone Intercom which was "push to talk" and while you were listening to what as going on in class, you could not really interact because as you pushed the bar down to talk it cut out any communication which was occurring on the other end. This was the first system of it's kind in the country and an article was done on me by the Saint Paul Pioneer Press (complete with pictures that included me, my Cocker Spaniel, my sister's parakeet, and a remote control fire engine). It was really a pretty good human interest story and being the "pack rat" that I am, I have it stored somewhere in a manila envelope labeled miscellaneous - 1956.
The next year I was able to attend school in the normal fashion and was promptly identified as an extremely viable candidate for a few new and innovative programs. The first was called "team teaching" and used the auditorium for a class of about 150 students in a social sciences programs that rotated between World History, American History, American Government & Civics. It worked like this: on Monday & Tuesday one of the team lectured on World History (complete with testing every two weeks), on Wednesday and Thursday another team member lectured on American History, and on Friday the third team member lectured on American Government and Civics. These were one hour lecture sessions, except for Friday which was an hour lecture followed by and hour discussion group. As you can see the program was patterned after a three credit college program which I recognized immediately when I attended the University of Minnesota. Then I was chosen to participate in a special science program designed by MIT. We were given these softbound physics texts each week covering a different aspect in physics and tested on the materials at the end of the week...the tests were 100 points and I seem to remember that our median score was about 11. Our brightest science student got a 29 on one of the tests and he actually became a PHD in nuclear physics...however, I learned very quickly that my career would not lie in that direction.
The next example occurred when I enlisted in the Air Force and was being assigned a Squadron...most of the squadrons were in number sequence 357, 358, 359...and mine was X360. Yes, the X signified experimental and was the "brainchild" of some staff officer who had way too much time on his hands. While I never totally understood the purpose, it used Marine non-commissioned officers (sergeants) as training instructors (TI's). It was suppposed to see if the Air Force could use Marine training techniques with Air Force Personnel...well of course being my usual SMARTASS self...my first comment was "If I wanted to be a f****** Jarhead, I'd have joined the f****** Marines"...you have no idea how that endeared me to these TI's (but I believe I still have a few boot marks on my chest). Remember this was an era when they were allowed to beat the hell out of you, and you didn't have the recourse of writing your congressman to complain. I survived and I have to admit that I liked the Marine cadence they taught us to use marching (we won all the drill competitions at parades).
The final example I will use in this log occurred when I was interviewing for a management development position at Bell. They had just developed a new program to select candidates and you can guess who was selected to test it out. The first day started with a battery of tests in the morning and was followed by what they called "assessment" in the afternoon. You were given a huge notebook containing materials about a fictitious company who had hired you as a management consultant...it was your job to determine a course of action and argue it to their "management team". There were two different cases, each of the next two days and when I was done I had no idea as to whether or not I would be hired. As it turned out I finished first of four hundred candidates.
"No Forrest, life is not a box of chocolates...life is being able to survive in a Petri dish!"
A few examples occur to me immediately:
When I had rheumatic fever I went to school one year via the telephone. A dedicated line was provided for intercom service at Cleveland Junior High School in Saint Paul...this was provided as a free service by Bell (their motivation was not all humanitarian since they were looking for a new application for a service that they had designed years earlier). The only real disadvantage to the system was that it used and Executone Intercom which was "push to talk" and while you were listening to what as going on in class, you could not really interact because as you pushed the bar down to talk it cut out any communication which was occurring on the other end. This was the first system of it's kind in the country and an article was done on me by the Saint Paul Pioneer Press (complete with pictures that included me, my Cocker Spaniel, my sister's parakeet, and a remote control fire engine). It was really a pretty good human interest story and being the "pack rat" that I am, I have it stored somewhere in a manila envelope labeled miscellaneous - 1956.
The next year I was able to attend school in the normal fashion and was promptly identified as an extremely viable candidate for a few new and innovative programs. The first was called "team teaching" and used the auditorium for a class of about 150 students in a social sciences programs that rotated between World History, American History, American Government & Civics. It worked like this: on Monday & Tuesday one of the team lectured on World History (complete with testing every two weeks), on Wednesday and Thursday another team member lectured on American History, and on Friday the third team member lectured on American Government and Civics. These were one hour lecture sessions, except for Friday which was an hour lecture followed by and hour discussion group. As you can see the program was patterned after a three credit college program which I recognized immediately when I attended the University of Minnesota. Then I was chosen to participate in a special science program designed by MIT. We were given these softbound physics texts each week covering a different aspect in physics and tested on the materials at the end of the week...the tests were 100 points and I seem to remember that our median score was about 11. Our brightest science student got a 29 on one of the tests and he actually became a PHD in nuclear physics...however, I learned very quickly that my career would not lie in that direction.
The next example occurred when I enlisted in the Air Force and was being assigned a Squadron...most of the squadrons were in number sequence 357, 358, 359...and mine was X360. Yes, the X signified experimental and was the "brainchild" of some staff officer who had way too much time on his hands. While I never totally understood the purpose, it used Marine non-commissioned officers (sergeants) as training instructors (TI's). It was suppposed to see if the Air Force could use Marine training techniques with Air Force Personnel...well of course being my usual SMARTASS self...my first comment was "If I wanted to be a f****** Jarhead, I'd have joined the f****** Marines"...you have no idea how that endeared me to these TI's (but I believe I still have a few boot marks on my chest). Remember this was an era when they were allowed to beat the hell out of you, and you didn't have the recourse of writing your congressman to complain. I survived and I have to admit that I liked the Marine cadence they taught us to use marching (we won all the drill competitions at parades).
The final example I will use in this log occurred when I was interviewing for a management development position at Bell. They had just developed a new program to select candidates and you can guess who was selected to test it out. The first day started with a battery of tests in the morning and was followed by what they called "assessment" in the afternoon. You were given a huge notebook containing materials about a fictitious company who had hired you as a management consultant...it was your job to determine a course of action and argue it to their "management team". There were two different cases, each of the next two days and when I was done I had no idea as to whether or not I would be hired. As it turned out I finished first of four hundred candidates.
"No Forrest, life is not a box of chocolates...life is being able to survive in a Petri dish!"
Monday, August 10, 2009
Some Fill-ins And More Fodder For Thought...
When you become my age, you are not sure what are memories, reminisces, or things that have been told to you so many times that you think that you remember them!!
Case in point, do I have an early memory of my Great Grandfather Kinley teaching me to read in Indiana when I was three (we are rocking in rocking chairs, side by side) and him bringing me sweet potatoes over in his pockets every morning...or is this something that has been retold so many times that I think I remember it.
I know that I remember my folks and I living with my Grandmother (Nonnie) on the fifth floor of the Macy Apartments...which were demolished for the Capitol Approach. I remember a creepy self-service elevator that went down to an even creepier boiler room that my younger sister and I used to explore.
I remember living in the Cedar-Riverside area in Minneapolis and becoming my sister's hero by stepping in when some older kids threatened her with a hatchet...this was either before I started kindergarten at Clay School or that year. I remember the school play for kindergarten that year was Little Black Sambo (I had the lead with cork-blackened face ala Ted Dansen) and I remember the Tigers all yelling "Little Black Sambo, your pants are falling down!" This got the biggest laugh...parents were laughing so hard they had tears running down their faces...an event like that stays in your mind!
I remember a trip to Kentucky that summer and proudly showing my mother a mushroom that I round (never really noticed that it was growing in a horse turd)...I remember starting First Grade in a one-room school house and having vienna sausage sandwiches for lunch...I know that I remember what a huge man my grandfather Harve Strunk was...lifting me onto his shoulders with his only arm, and walking the tobacco fields...I remember how little my grandmother Mary Strunk was (about four feet tall)and her ability to kill chickens for Sunday dinner by wringing their necks...and them running all around the yard headless.
I remember the permanent move back to Saint Paul and starting Ericsson School that same year...and playing soldiers in the dirt with my friend Dave Corbo...but some of the other "memories" I am sure are really part of that "Neverland Fog" that could be re-tellings or imagination or whatever!
I am sure that I will have more to say about this in future postings!
Case in point, do I have an early memory of my Great Grandfather Kinley teaching me to read in Indiana when I was three (we are rocking in rocking chairs, side by side) and him bringing me sweet potatoes over in his pockets every morning...or is this something that has been retold so many times that I think I remember it.
I know that I remember my folks and I living with my Grandmother (Nonnie) on the fifth floor of the Macy Apartments...which were demolished for the Capitol Approach. I remember a creepy self-service elevator that went down to an even creepier boiler room that my younger sister and I used to explore.
I remember living in the Cedar-Riverside area in Minneapolis and becoming my sister's hero by stepping in when some older kids threatened her with a hatchet...this was either before I started kindergarten at Clay School or that year. I remember the school play for kindergarten that year was Little Black Sambo (I had the lead with cork-blackened face ala Ted Dansen) and I remember the Tigers all yelling "Little Black Sambo, your pants are falling down!" This got the biggest laugh...parents were laughing so hard they had tears running down their faces...an event like that stays in your mind!
I remember a trip to Kentucky that summer and proudly showing my mother a mushroom that I round (never really noticed that it was growing in a horse turd)...I remember starting First Grade in a one-room school house and having vienna sausage sandwiches for lunch...I know that I remember what a huge man my grandfather Harve Strunk was...lifting me onto his shoulders with his only arm, and walking the tobacco fields...I remember how little my grandmother Mary Strunk was (about four feet tall)and her ability to kill chickens for Sunday dinner by wringing their necks...and them running all around the yard headless.
I remember the permanent move back to Saint Paul and starting Ericsson School that same year...and playing soldiers in the dirt with my friend Dave Corbo...but some of the other "memories" I am sure are really part of that "Neverland Fog" that could be re-tellings or imagination or whatever!
I am sure that I will have more to say about this in future postings!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
A Clarification and Some More Thoughts
In my earlier post, I referred to a baseball game and I didn't mention that this was an exhibition game...at that point in time the Brooklyn Dodgers had a farm team based in Saint Paul and the New York Giants had the Minneapolis Millers as a farm team, and about once in a blue moon the real teams played exhibition games in both cities...the game I saw was at the old Lexington ballpark in Saint Paul.
While I experienced a great deal of innocent activity...like playing kick the can and Red Rover in the alley, which had so little traffic as to almost becoming our constant playground. And going to the playground to baseball with friends and no adult interference or supervision...we were quite capable of playing by the rules and elected our own umpires to call balls and strikes...these games were not competitive like Little League games, but were more about everyone playing and improving their skills.
At this same time of innocence in other areas the Racial tensions were growing and Blacks (who were called Colored People, or Negroes) were beginning to organize the early stages of the NAACP and other Civil Rights organizations, and there were lynchings, and police beatings, a incarcerations for being at the wrong place and being Black.
All of these things and events were occurring against a backdrop of the Cold War with Air Raid practice and hiding under your desks and chemical and biological test conducted on unknowing neighborhoods that would have repercussions for generations to come.
More in my next posting...
While I experienced a great deal of innocent activity...like playing kick the can and Red Rover in the alley, which had so little traffic as to almost becoming our constant playground. And going to the playground to baseball with friends and no adult interference or supervision...we were quite capable of playing by the rules and elected our own umpires to call balls and strikes...these games were not competitive like Little League games, but were more about everyone playing and improving their skills.
At this same time of innocence in other areas the Racial tensions were growing and Blacks (who were called Colored People, or Negroes) were beginning to organize the early stages of the NAACP and other Civil Rights organizations, and there were lynchings, and police beatings, a incarcerations for being at the wrong place and being Black.
All of these things and events were occurring against a backdrop of the Cold War with Air Raid practice and hiding under your desks and chemical and biological test conducted on unknowing neighborhoods that would have repercussions for generations to come.
More in my next posting...
Another Era
I was born a small Black child in Mississippi...no that was a movie, leave the gun, take the canoli...nope another movie, life is like a box of chocolates...not me either!!
I was born in Bethesda Hospital in Saint Paul, Minnesota on November 18, 1942...it was a different era then...I remember living on the lower East-side of Saint Paul where there were not police working as teams in cruisers but a neighborhood "beat cop" Larry. You didn't have to worry about him shooting you or "tasing" you, he knew you by your first name, knew where you lived and knew your parents...you had to worry about him telling your dad about any mischief that you had gotten into and the wrath that would follow. It was a time where when you did all of your chores for a week you got a quarter...this got you into the Saturday Matinee, which usually was a double feature with an episode of a thirteen chapter serial, and sometimes as many as 25 cartoons! It also left you with enough cash for a bag of popcorn, a soda and a 2 cent candy bar.
I remember going to grade school and "daydreaming" and listening to the buzzing of insects in the weeks just before summer vacation...I remember watching the Brooklyn Dodgers play the New York Giants on a summer afternoon for the huge price of fifty cents...I was thrilled to get my program (which was free) signed by all my Dodger heros...Duke Snyder, Roy Campanella, Don Newcombe, and of course Jackie Robinson. For me this was a time of innocence that allowed hero worship without even recognising skin color. This was enhanced by the wonderful circumstance that allowed me to have my favorite teacher, Dr. James Phillips. I had rheumatic fever and was schooled by a "homebound program" and then attended class via the telephone and he was the ONLY teacher that took an interest in my welfare. It was only years later when I realised that my father was always absent during these visits. Dr. Phillips recounted to me that he was originally from Mississippi and that his parents (who were also both PhD's) couldn't pass the Mississippi literacy test and therefore couldn't vote...this seemed to violate everything we were being taught in school. Incidentally he had a brilliant career and late became Superintendent of Schools for Saint Paul. So while for many this time of innocence was a time of strife and trial. It was the very beginning of the Civil Rights struggle. I will continue these ramblings a little later!!
I was born in Bethesda Hospital in Saint Paul, Minnesota on November 18, 1942...it was a different era then...I remember living on the lower East-side of Saint Paul where there were not police working as teams in cruisers but a neighborhood "beat cop" Larry. You didn't have to worry about him shooting you or "tasing" you, he knew you by your first name, knew where you lived and knew your parents...you had to worry about him telling your dad about any mischief that you had gotten into and the wrath that would follow. It was a time where when you did all of your chores for a week you got a quarter...this got you into the Saturday Matinee, which usually was a double feature with an episode of a thirteen chapter serial, and sometimes as many as 25 cartoons! It also left you with enough cash for a bag of popcorn, a soda and a 2 cent candy bar.
I remember going to grade school and "daydreaming" and listening to the buzzing of insects in the weeks just before summer vacation...I remember watching the Brooklyn Dodgers play the New York Giants on a summer afternoon for the huge price of fifty cents...I was thrilled to get my program (which was free) signed by all my Dodger heros...Duke Snyder, Roy Campanella, Don Newcombe, and of course Jackie Robinson. For me this was a time of innocence that allowed hero worship without even recognising skin color. This was enhanced by the wonderful circumstance that allowed me to have my favorite teacher, Dr. James Phillips. I had rheumatic fever and was schooled by a "homebound program" and then attended class via the telephone and he was the ONLY teacher that took an interest in my welfare. It was only years later when I realised that my father was always absent during these visits. Dr. Phillips recounted to me that he was originally from Mississippi and that his parents (who were also both PhD's) couldn't pass the Mississippi literacy test and therefore couldn't vote...this seemed to violate everything we were being taught in school. Incidentally he had a brilliant career and late became Superintendent of Schools for Saint Paul. So while for many this time of innocence was a time of strife and trial. It was the very beginning of the Civil Rights struggle. I will continue these ramblings a little later!!
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