The more directives you issue to solve a problem, the worse it gets.
All posts by Jim
Goethe’s Observation
When ideas fail, words come in very handy.
Grossman’s Misquote of H.L. Menken
Complex problems have simple, easy-to-understand wrong answers.
NOEL ’23
Since i reneged on rearranging the lights on my sign, this Christmas post is essentially the same as posted last year with a few edits and comments in green font like this intro.
Christmas decorations are going up a bit early again.
We actually put ours up on the first day of the month this December. We were later than a number of homes around us.
It seems to me back home growing up, we cut down our tree on Wynn “Papa” Prichard’s farm about a week before the big day, decorated it that evening, hung the stockings, hung a wreath on the door, put some lights around the door, and took it all down the day after Christmas. In our neighborhood today, about one-quarter of the houses have blow-up dolls, reindeer statues, lights enough to provide electricity for a small city among other amusements. The decorations here went up a week ago and many will likely remain well after the New Year.
But i wanted to get it out of the way. And so begins the Christmas season. And with that, i offer my traditional repeat of a column i wrote for the Lebanon Democrat about a gazillion years ago. Merry Christmas with this year’s version of Noel:
Have you ever had one of those days when everything turned into an embarrassment? I had a champion day like that several years ago.
It started innocently while I hung our outdoor decoration, a home-made “NOEL” sign from the eave of our garage, hoping to get it up before my wife’s friends arrived for their Christmas dinner.
Maureen and her six friends have been meeting monthly for dinners for 15-plus years. They had this December dinner catered, did it up right. It was Maureen’s turn to be hostess.
It was dark when I began. I was at the top of my step ladder attaching the second of two wires from the sign to hooks secured to the eave when the ladder lurched and toppled. I grabbed a metal ornamental grating above the garage door.
There I hung, my arm intertwined with the “O” of the sign. If I tried to drop, the sign could catch my arm and do some pretty bad stuff.
I yelled, but Maureen had Christmas carols at top volume and didn’t hear. I tried to think of what to do while simultaneously wondering how long I could hold on. The dog wandered underneath, occasionally looking up as if I was a very strange person hanging there.
After several minutes, a neighbor’s son and friend pulled into the driveway several houses away. As they emerged, I swallowed my pride and yelled “Help.”
At first, they could not discern who was calling. Then they spotted me and came to help. The dog decided to protect me and began barking threateningly. The boys hesitated. I assured them the only danger was being licked to death. They finally righted the ladder and helped me down.
I thanked them profusely and then studied whether I should tell Maureen or not. Now that I was back on solid ground, I decided it was too funny not to tell her. She was incredulous and not particularly amused.
I did not realize my embarrassment for the night was just beginning.
While Maureen made final arrangements for her dinner, our daughter, Sarah, and I went to a local spot for supper. The little place was an oasis of sorts in Bonita, where there were only Mexican, Italian, and fast food restaurants. The attraction was different, having a wide-range of ales and beers for golfers finishing a round across the street.
When we arrived, two couples were at tables and three guys sat at the bar. As we neared the end of our meal, the largest of the guys at the bar walked to the door and then turned back. I noticed his eyes seemed glazed. Then he walked back to the bar.
Suddenly, this guy and the one on the other side grabbed the guy in the middle off his stool, slammed him into the wall and started pummeling him with their fists. The three male diners, me (instinctively) included, approached from one side and two cooks approached from the back. Sarah had retreated to the door with the two lady diners. I grabbed the big guy. He spun and fell backward, slamming us into our table, knocking it over with shattering glass. It gave me some leverage, and we spun to the floor with me on top and knocking the wind out of the big guy. The other two diners helped me hold him until he calmed down. The cooks had quelled the other assailant. The two left quietly.
Even though the waitress wanted us to not pay our bill, we paid and left for home. On the way, I talked to my daughter about what I should have done (directed her outside before joining the fray) and what she should do the next time if she were ever in a place where a fight broke out (get out and away and not come back until she was sure it was over). i admonished her not to spoil her mother’s dinner party, adding i would tell her mother after the guests had departed. Sarah nodded.
I was feeling pretty good as we arrived home. Then Sarah dashed out of the car, ran into the house and yelled to her mother in front of the caterer and her six friends dressed to the nines amidst fine china, Christmas decorations, and haut cuisine, “Mom, Dad got in a fight in a bar.”
Some days, I just can’t get a break.
May your holiday season be embarrassment free.
May all of you have a most wonderful and amazing Christmas Season, and “Please, Please, Please (as James Brown once sang) remember the reason for the season,
A Tale of the Sea and Me (For Sam) – Installment 41, maybe
The Hawkins was closing down its refresher training in GTMO in early April 1969. We had done pretty well except for one area of the ready for sea criteria we worked on for two-plus months.
That would be in gunnery, especially gunfire support. Trying to refrain from demeaning folks, the problem was the weapons officer. CDR Lasell recognized the problem and removed him as the gunfire support director who controlled the guns from a plot in Combat Information Center (CIC).
LT Ralph Clark was put in charge and for a reason i cannot explain, the captain appointed me his sound-powered phone talker on the JV(?) circuit, the one where the director communicated with Sky 1, the director and the gear-grinding, analogue, fire control computer Mark 1 Able deep down in the bowels of the ship. My job was to pass to the captain all that was happening on the circuit, and pass along his commands to the others on the circuit. It was unique. i was also pleased the CDR Lasell trusted me enough to do this.
We improved quite a bit before final day of simulated battle.
There was one part in which we concerned. The problem being put under simulated attack by attack aircraft. We had learned from other FRAMS that invariably, the flyover would be synchronized with the trainers in engineering. Thus as the aircraft approach the trainers would induce a casualty that would create a loss of electrical power. That, of course, would require the ship to combat the air attack manually.
Now for those who have never experienced this, think of 3500 tons of steel hurtling around the ocean at 35 knots, evading attacking aircraft with turns inducing heeling and rolls while the sky one fire control director is trying to manually aim the four large guns slaved to his director at aircraft maneuvering at 400 knots And those massive twin 5 inch, gun mounts are pivoting in sync with the director. Insane. Even keeping your balance was tough, especially while trying to simply watch the intense maneuvering of the aircraft .
But we had a plan.
Here i must explain there are at least two versions of what happened next. Joe Conway, who was the CIC officer at the time, has told me he was sitting at the O-Club bar the night before and the guy next to him was in the aviation side of the base. This guy casually mentioned to Joe the overhead times the aircraft would reach the Hawk during the battle problem. My version is below:
The Operations Officer (OPS) boss came up with the idea, discussed it with the CO, and recruited the Supply Officer (SUPPO) and me to pull off the dirty deed. We left in the motor whale boat in the middle of the afternoon, and tied to the pier. We found a phone booth that was rather isolated in between two rows of buildings. i stood watch at the end of the row. i was supposed to warn OPS and SUPPO if anyone was coming. SUPPO made the call while OPS coached him, making sure he said what they had rehearsed.
It was just before liberty call when SUPPO called flight operations office in the air facility tower.
“This is LCDR Fritz* at the Fleet Training Group office. We are going through the battle problem for the Hawkins tomorrow and want to confirm the overhead time for your aircraft. *Dave used the name and rank of the officer we knew was in charge of the battle problem. The air controller checked his papers and told Dave when the aircraft would conduct the simulated air strike.
We laughed all the way back to the ship on the boat ride. When we told the CO and the XO, they laughed along with us.
In spite of the engineering casualty, we were ready for the airstrike. We raised our grade in gunnery, but it was just below “passing.” It was close enough to give us a chance to go operational if we did well in the live fire gun shoots at Vieques and Calibre.