All posts by Jim

A Tale of the Sea and Me (For Sam) – Installment 40, but who’s counting?

Sea Stories, Uncategorized

Just in case you are wondering about the numbering system for this series, i have given up and restarting at “40.” i plan to go through the files and hard copies to make what i’ve posted thus far into some kind of order that would eventually become a manuscript for a book if i ever get that far,

This past weekend (12/9-10/2023), a bunch of old farts and their lovely brides held their annual party.

i met the first old fart, Pete Toennies, in Hobart, Tasmania in November 1979 when i joined an amphibious squadron staff. Pete is now a retired Navy SEAL captain.

i met the second old fart, Jim Hileman, in 1983 at my wedding. Jim arrived late for the reception. He apologized explaining he had been playing golf. i asked why he didn’t ask me to play. We’ve been friends ever since. Jim was an aviation technician in the Navy, got out and moved up through Ma Bell’s ranks before retiring.

i met the second and third old farts at the Naval Amphibious School in 1985. All three of us were on our twilight tours. Marty Linville was an Army Artillery major. He was awarded the Army’s Silver Star in Vietnam. Rod, like me, was a Surface Warfare Officer commander. He became XO of the command. The three of us began playing golf together shortly after i arrived. We’ve continued our weekly round ever since.

There are other golfers who play with us, but this group, along with Al Pavich, a hero and shipmate of mine who has passed on, are the corp group that began playing golf at Sea ‘n Air on the North Island Naval Air Station and the two Admiral Baker courses in Mission Valley on Fridays in 1991.

When the three of us at the Amphibious School were still active duty, it was difficult to get weekend tee times, the only time we could play, because old farts like we are now grabbed a lot of the those tee times. We vowed not to play military courses (except for tournaments) on weekends when we retired. Our reasoning was it would be just a bit easier for those still on active duty to secure tee times.

Then, in May of 1991, Marty went to a 4/10 schedule, working ten hours for four days. i was Mister Mom. We decided to play on Fridays. Rod soon joined us and the others followed. About two months ago, we switched to Thursdays for several reasons. But the game goes on.

At some time beyond my recollection, this group began meeting at restaurants for a Christmas dinner. Pete and Nancy Toennies offered to host the party.

This year, we had an afternoon and pot luck dinner at their home on Coronado. It was a great time with a bunch of sea (and war) stories we’ve shared before and a couple of brand new ones. We like to laugh at each other and ourselves.

Before dinner, Pete, Marty and i were discussing many things when Pete brought up carrier landings with the Korean Special Forces back in the early 80’s. No, not with aircraft on real carriers. His “carrier landing” experience was at a party thrown by the Koreans for their three US military advisors.

His tale reminded me of my “carrier landing” experience, something i had not included on my description of the Hawkins‘ Refresher Training in Guantanamo in 1969.

As noted earlier, we were on port and starboard liberty. My one day on the weekend was spent mostly in the officer’s club bar. Most of our wardroom became very familiar with the bar keepers and played a lot of dice games there. On one such liberty, the barkeep told us of the crazy weekend when the USS John F. Kennedy (CV 67) had visited a couple of months before us. i believe it was the Kennedy’s first cruise.

The aviators took over the club and drank like…well, like aviators. At some point, they decided to have carrier landings. This is an event where a number of dining tables are lined up end to end and the plates, silverware, table cloths, etc. are removed. Most of the participants line up across the table from each other and extend their uniform neck ties between each facing participant. These are the “arresting gears,” which on real carriers is a system that grabs the aircraft when it lands, slowing it down and bringing it to a safe landing…or at least as safe as an aircraft can be when conducting real carrier landings.

Once set up, one of the “pilots” “flies” around the room and then attempts to land by diving onto the beer soaked tables and sliding toward the other end. The “arresting gear” participants attempt to use their ties to grab the feet of the “aircraft” and slow him down before reaching the end of the table.

Of course after several “añejo goodies,” our officers in attendance that day decided we should try it. It was a complete and utter disaster. i remain amazed that no one was seriously hurt.

Pete’s tale was better. The senior officer at the Korean party was a Republic of Korea Special Forces general. The US Special Forces officers brought up this game of carrier landings and everyone decided to try it. Instead of neck ties, the group used the table cloths for the arresting gear.

The general was really excited and sufficiently soaked. He was eager to try it. He flew around the room and approached his carrier landing. He dove onto the table and slid down the simulated flight deck. The participants holding the arresting gears pulled them back. The general slid off the end of the table.

i’m still laughing.

Music

A Pocket of Resistance

i am sitting here as i normally do. What television we normally watch in the evenings didn’t demand our senses tonight: we left it off.

We had a wonderful repast of Maureen’s renderings. She is taking her bath and will retire with her kindle until she falls asleep. The fire is slowly dying as i sit besides the warm remnants. i will not last much longer. The night is calling me.

i just finished Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness.” It is an amazing, dark tale, captivating to me. Conrad’s talent in deep thought writing continues to blow me away. It occurred to me not many people nowadays would enjoy his work, or even finish it. It takes work. Good work with a reward if you think about it. Conrad takes me to the depths and width of human nature.

i should stay up a little longer to escape an absurd early rising, something for which i have gained a reputation. Nightly old age meds have been taken.

So, i simply am listening to music, my music, i have turned off Apple music and all of the other streaming music services. My library is about 4500 tunes of my music. i am going down the list, picking out the ones i want to listen to this solitary evening — the Everly Brothers’ “All I Have to Do is Dream” just finished playing.

Lately, i have found a great deal of comfort in my music. In the beginning of this week, i pulled out the LP “The Essential Hank Williams.” A great playlist including “My Bucket’s Got a Hole in It,” “Move It On Over,” “Honky Tonkin’,” and two that mean a great deal with me. “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” has been covered by a seemingly unending list of artists and almost every genre and remains one of my all time favorites. It is my “lonely” song. Then, there is “Kaw LIga” about the wooden indian standing outside the antique store who was in love with the wooden indian maiden who was bought by a rich man and taken away. But he stood there and never let it show. Such a wonderful story of human tragedy with so much meaning, deep meaning if you think about it.

And i got to sing it. Knew it by heart. My older cousin, Graham Williamson, who later played fiddle for Roy Acuff, was baby sitting me with his wife Mary Ellen and his band in their home — i think it was over on Sunset Drive — when i was about ten. His band was practicing. Then, he asked me to sing “Kaw Liga” with the band. i belted it out, knew every word, with feeling.

After listening to old Hank, i pulled out my Platter’s albums. Oh, “The Great Pretender” brought tears to my eyes. 1955, i was a blubbering, heads-over-heels in love as an eleven-year old and they played it at the soda fountain. i almost cried. And their songs accented my romances until i was well into my thirties.

And tonight, as i scrolled though my library, i thanked the gods of ancient wax for my appreciation of music.

Most of that story has been told here in various posts of the past. Perhaps the most impact on my music appreciation journey was WCOR. i worked AM, 900 on your dial on the weekends as the “weekend warrior with sounds to lay down…they may sound scratchy but it’s just the gold dust in the grooves.” i also worked 107.3 on your FM dial, which boasted of easy listening music and a plethora of public service announcements. My shift was weeknights from 7:00 to 10:30 P.M. when i shut down the station for the night. i also worked Sunday mornings on FM, following with my afternoon Top 40 stint.

For the first couple of months on FM, i played just what was required. i would pull down an easy listening LP from the shelves surrounding the studio from floor to ceiling. i would put it on the turntable, announce the artist, and let it play. When side one was over, i would play a public service announcement while turning it over and then play the other side. i would read a short news summary and the weather report on the hour and half-hour. i got quite a bit of studying done. i also got a little bored.

So sometime around the turn of the year, i invented the evening show, “A Potpourri of Music.” i played jazz, classical, show tunes, big band, and all sorts of other things i found in those shelves except for country and rock and roll — those records were down the hall in the AM studio. i would announce the artist and read some of the attributes from the back cover of the LP jacket.

In the summer after the station had revised the AM and FM formats, FM had a short headline or weather every ten minutes under the umbrella of “accent” news. i turned my “Potpourri” into “Summer Accent.” i would lead off with Tony Bennett’s “Once Upon a Summertime” over which i related the theme for the next three and one half hours.

It was enjoyable, i was learning a lot, but my studying took a hit. i then had to find time for that in between my work as the Wilson County correspondent for The Nashville Banner in the afternoons as i was commuting to MTSU in the mornings with Jimmy Hatcher and others.

Tonight, i listened to the Platters again. “Twilight Time:” “Heavenly shades of night are falling / It’s twilight time / Out of the mist your voice is calling / ‘Tis twilight time. // When purple coloured curtains / Mark the end of day / I’ll hear you, my dear, at twilight time / Deepening shadows gather splendour / As day is done / Fingers of night will soon surrender / The setting sun…

Ahh, visions of past loves, innocence, the coolness of a summer night in that little town smack dab in the middle of Tennessee.

They don’t make ’em like that anymore.