Co-Captains Jimmy Gamble and the goofy guy who had about as much sense then as he has now with the Lebanon Junior High Colts Homecoming Queen, Jennifer Brewington, 1957. If i remember correctly, she wore his ring around her neck. We won the game, finished 8-1.
Durante…for those who remember
he sang inka dinka do;
i thought inka dinka don’t
cut it,
yet
i was crazy about the old bald man
with the big nose and gravely voice
and
i laughed at his antics
and
thought his kicking the bucket
was the highlight of
mad, mad, mad world,
but
i always wanted to meet
mrs calabash
wherever she was.
i think of this poem i wrote about eight years ago. Almost every morning i walk out to get the newspaper in the morning. i often stop and pause, looking at the mountain, a steep hill really, with the sun peeking over her apex, and i imagine this land, this high desert nestled by the Pacific when Richard Henry Dana entered the bay on the Boston brig Pilgrim in 1935, an area with a population of about 200.
Mount Miguel on a February Sunrise
East north east of my front door,
Mount Miguel wore a shroud this morning;
The low clouds draped across her shoulders
below the peak at sunrise.
By circumstance, the front door of my home faces east,
greeting the sun god
like the Navajo’s hogan door has done for centuries
over in the Four Corners a mountain or so
east of here.
Man’s antennae now reach skyward on Mount Miguel’s peak,
black in silhouette against the rising orange orb, which will later
sling its white hot heat and light low to the south,
moving through the day,
bowing to the Baja lands of Mexico,
as it is wont to do in the winter months
here in the high desert.
The instruments of new fangled transmission look foreboding:
Spanish castle towers of the inquisition;
I wonder if the Kumayai sat atop,
above the cloud shroud,
lifting their own clouds of smoke,
transmitting their own news of the day.
The city folks implanted here
tend to forget what this land beneath them was;
really is.
We have learned to just add water
to get paradise,
now overrun with those that forget
to look East at the sunrise
silhouettes of the ghost talkers.
Bonita, California
February 25, 2007
Today is a big day for Veterans. Every year this time, i think about my father being the Grand Marshal of Lebanon’s Veterans Day Parade for his service in the Southwest Pacific as a Seabee in World War II.
i also think about many friends who stood in harm’s way, some of whom never made it back.
My overriding thought was well stated by my friend and shipmate. Al Pavich, a hero in his own right, both during and after active service. This morning, Al stated simply, “Thank you, Veterans; proud to have served with you.
Al and those folks i think about deserve such honor. i am a little embarrassed to be included. Oh sure, i drove ships around the ocean for more than 14 years of active service. And sure, i had a freighter blown up directly aft of my ship on the Delong pier in Qui Nhon, Vietnam. And i did a lot of support and a lot of training.
But i was doing a job i had chosen, quite frankly for financial reasons with a brand new beautiful daughter. And i loved it. If they would let me drive, i would be on a Navy ship today. I loved the camaraderie, the adventure, the ports of call, the moving every two or so years to another port (most of my moves were across the country or world).
It was service, but i don’t think of it in the same way as i think of my friend Dave Carey’s service who spent 5 1/2 years as a POW for his service, or Marty Linville who received the Silver Star for his heroic action in Vietnam, or Pete Toennies, a Navy SEAL who did a whole bunch of things i am not allowed to mention.
i am embarrassed. But proud. Serving our country is a rewarding career. It makes me feel good that i did it. i do like to think i contributed to the Navy’s mission providing support of the country’s policies at sea.
As Al so well put it: Thank you, Veterans. i am proud to have served with you.
This past weekend, both Maureen and i got some balance.
i have noted when we return from a trip, we are usually empowered to keep up the good vibes from our travel experiences. But we quickly resume a rather predictable routine. We do our things: Maureen goes to her yoga, out with her friends, and attends her OSHER classes; i play golf, write, do too little and infrequent exercise, get further behind in a bunch of projects, and sit staring at this computer; and together we play golf occasionally, go out to eat all too infrequently (but since i am married to one of the best and healthiest cooking chefs i’ve ever experienced, this is not necessarily a bad thing), go to the museums, and that’s about it. Seems like something is missing.
About a month or so ago, i received a request from an old friend. Andrew Nemethy sent me a Facebook message or an email asking if his daughter and her friend could stay with us for a few days on a cross-country excursion, i, of course, said certainly…after consulting with my wife to verify “certainly” was appropriate. It was.
Andrew and Rob DeWitt joined the USS Hawkins (DD 873) in 1968 about a month after we returned to our homeport of Newport, Rhode Island. I had met the ship in Malaga, Spain, and spent a very short time in the Mediterranean and the transit across the Atlantic. For several months, the three of us shared a stateroom in forward officers, a small, dark, and dank little place where the most junior officers are assigned. We had a good time before i moved back to after officers, the more elite quarters if such a thing could be possible on a WWII vintage destroyer. We spent a lot of time together on the ship and ashore. Several of our stories approach legendary.
Andrew, Rob and i, along with our close friend and compatriot from Newport days, Kathy McMahon Klosterman, have reconnected on Facebook.
Then Andrew’s email arrived. Then Esther Nemethy and Erica Claire arrived on Friday. They are rather amazing young ladies. They both went to the University of Vermont. They recently hiked the Long Trail running the length of Vermont (272 miles) in 21 days and stopped in Chattanooga, Austin, Santa Fe, and Tucson (and probably several more) before our weekend together. They left on Monday headed for San Francisco before traveling to Colorado. There Esther will be working in the food industry with her degree in food repurposing and Erica will be a ski instructor in Breckinridge.
Most of the time they were here, they scouted out San Diego for the possibility of eventually moving here (i hope). But we had every breakfast and several dinners together. They were a complete delight. They energized me, and lord, did they make me wish i were in my twenties again.
Thanks, Esther and Erica.