This morning, there was a “memory” of  mine from three years to share on Facebook:

The caption on the memory read “Adjutant (CHMA yearbook) editor, 1962. Note this goober couldn’t keep his clip-on tie, on.”

It was a long, long time ago. Sometimes i think i should have stuck with that journalism thing, after all sports writers always had their ties askew (except for the dapper Fred Russell of The Nashville Banner). But then i would have missed…oh, all you folks approaching my age understand.

Another thought. That large desktop radio next to my left elbow got me in trouble, or maybe it was Mike Dixon who got us in trouble or maybe it was me who got us into trouble, but regardless, the radio played a part. It happened in October, about a year and a half before this photo was taken by the guy who earlier caught Mike and i in our trouble.

It was midday, Thursday, October 13, 1960 Central Daylight Savings Time, on “The Hilltop” at Castle Heights Military Academy. The lunch formation on the circle was at 11:30 as i recall. Mike Dixon was the sports editor of The Cavalier, the national award winning high school newspaper. i was his sports writer before i followed in his footsteps and edited the annual the next year. In addition, Mike and i played pickup basketball in the gym every afternoon we could until it was way past time to go home for supper. But that was another kind of trouble.

We also played baseball together at Heights and in Legion ball after being on opposition teams through the Babe Ruth and Little League years. i also was the “JV” point guard who was the only one who kept feeding Mike the ball when he got hot. Somewhere in the midst of all of that, we discovered a mutual admiration of the Pittsburgh Pirates, sometime begun around 1955. We could site every statistic of every player, and in back-yard whiffle ball games, we could even come close to replicating the stances of each Pirate batter (i preferred the stances of Roberto Clemente with his head roll and Rocky Nelson who looked like he was sitting on a milking stool in his stance).

So we had a problem. Back then, World Series games were played in the daytime. The damn Yankees — David Hall and Eddie Callis, eat your hearts out remembering 1960 — and the Bucko’s were tied 3-3. The deciding game started just before lunch formation. The two Pirate fans put our heads together, most likely during one of those late afternoon pickup games in the gym. They didn’t take muster at the lunch formation, so we could skip. We did. Company A didn’t catch i wasn’t there nor did Company C catch Mike when they marched in through Main into the mess hall.

We were scrunched down in the Cavalier/Adjutant journalism room in the back of the first floor of Armstrong Hall. That radio in the photo was moved to the middle of the desk and turned down low. Mike and i scrunched close to hear the play-by-play. The back and forth, the blue collar mid-section of the country against the white-collar New York dynasty: drama was rife. David Schoenfield wrote a wonderful description of the game for ESPN (http://proxy.espn.com/mlb/playoffs/2010/columns/story?id=5676003) and cites David Maraniss from Clemente: The Passion and Grace of Baseball’s Last Hero — Maraniss’ recent book, A Good American Family, is powerful — and Rob Neyer from his Big Book of Baseball Blunders. i won’t try and capture the beauty of that game nor the wonderful aspects of baseball and its players back then. Schoenfield, Maraniss, and Neyer have done that if you care to read deeper.

Dixon and i were oblivious to the books, the cultural changes coming to the sport and our country. We were glued to that tinny-sound play-by-play description of the game by Bob Prince, the Pirate’s announcer. And then came the bottom of the ninth. And Bill Mazeroski powered the ball over Yogi Berra’s head in left field. In my sometimes faulty memory, Bob Prince yelled his well-known phrase “You can kiss that baby goodbye!” Pirates win, 10-9. Pandemonium went nuclear at Forbes Field.

It also went nuclear in the Cavalier room. Dixon and i were rejoicing. We were slapping each other on the back, whooping with joy, and jumping atop the desks and continuing to jump and holler.

Oops.

Major (at the time) JB Leftwich, the mentor, sponsor and all things adult about that award winning newspaper and annual was working through lunch in his classroom. His classroom was in front, adjacent to the Cavalier room in back.

He came in, catching us in mid-air celebration, and put us on report. i think it was the only time i went before Colonel Dan T. Ingram because i was on report up until my last month the next school year

(Colonel Ingram, the commandant, also was my American History professor that year. i remember him walking to the old single pane window in the front of the classroom, looking out, and thinking the pane was pushed up and the window open, spitting his wad of snuff from under his lip. The snuff landed in the center of the pane. The dark brown liquid dribbled slowly down the pane with the colonel quietly looking at it. He turned and walked back to his desk as if nothing out of sorts had occurred. His students managed to muffle their laughs. Not one said anything. Class went on, eventually dismissed at the bell.)

i was awarded five demerits. Mike was awarded five as well but already had three. He had to march the “bullpen,” aka the circle in front of Main for an hour of punishment. i escaped.

We didn’t display the decorum of cadets expected of us. But you know what? i’m glad i did it and would do it again.

Each Memorial Day weekend for the past decade or so, i’ve tried to post something about my feelings honoring those who died for our country. i don’t always do it, but i try. And i was going to try this weekend with thoughts already swirling around in my brain trying to put some order, some sense into my remembering those who had fallen for us.

Then early this morning, i read the below. i have included the link, which is a better graphic representation of the article, and also pasted the text here.

As you probably know, i am not a big fan of television talking heads, hired guns for analyzing all things they used to know, experts they say. Nor am i a big fan of flag officers. As with all people in all situations, amongst that particular grouping, there are good people and some people not so good, and some criminals. There are good admirals and generals, more than the other kind, and there are some who got there for personal glory and abuse the position. As Rickover once told the House Armed Services Committee, “The first thing i would do to make the Pentagon more effective would be to give half the flag officers a private office in the “D” ring, give each of them a memo pad and let them write notes to each other without those notes ever leaving the “D” ring. Then i would have the other half of the flag officers take care of business.” Not exact words, but i think you get the point.

But this morning, i have a bit more respect for retired Admirals who analyze their speciality in the news. Rear Admiral John Kirby (USN, ret.) wrote the below piece.

i think we should all remember his words this weekend.

i would add that kind of valor did not just exist in WWII. There was Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, many other smaller conflicts, and i’m sadly sure, too many more to come.

i was in one cross-fire (mistaken friendlies) of .50 cals, stood on the weather deck waiting for some zappers to blow up our ship, had the merchant behind us at a DeLong pier have a hole ripped through her cargo hole at 0200, watched about two dozen firefights from a distance, did a lot of stupid things that could have gotten me killed, and did my job on twelve ships. No hero here. But man, i served with a whole bunch of heroes, some from each of those wars except the last couple. i didn’t die, didn’t even get wounded. Many of those heroes did.

And they are the ones we should honor today. Admiral Kirby captures the spirit of the United States Military personnel who have lost their lives for us. It is a much better job than i would have done with a post, so i am sharing his article. And i too will remember and honor all of those who are no longer with us who made such great sacrifice, many the final one this weekend.

And tomorrow morning, i will walk up to my ensign flying atop our hill, lower it to half mast, look down on the Navy ships in the harbor, and further away past the blue arch of the bridge to Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery, and remain silent for a moment or two while remembering those who ensured i, and all of the citizens of this country, would be free.

Thank you, Admiral Kirby.

https://www.cnn.com/2019/05/24/opinions/world-war-two-veteran-said-he-didnt-do-anything-kirby/index.html

The World War II veteran said he didn’t do anything. I almost believed him

by John Kirby, CNN National Security Analyst

Written last night and edited this morning.

It isn’t really late. A little past nine. Maureen has retired to bed where she will read for an hour or so.

Not me. No, not me. Growing up until i left for the Navy, i would get into bed and read into the wee wee hours of the morning, sometimes the night through. But now if i get through two paragraphs before falling asleep, it is surprising.

So i sit in the dark except for the reading light above my very nice and fashionable chair, which isn’t the recliner i would like to have because Maureen thinks they look tacky, although she would never use the word “tacky.” It would be a much more sophisticated sneer she would choose. And this ain’t bad. Don’t get me wrong.

i have Alfred Brendel playing off my iTunes menu on the Apple TV program. Good reading music.

i have begun reading David Maraniss’ new book, A Good American Family i received in the mail, er Fedex, yesterday. i just might pull one of those all nighters again. i am fascinated.

i almost wish i weren’t so enthralled. The story of David’s father and Andrew Maraniss’ grandfather (Andrew also is a wonderful writer and author of Strong Inside, one of the more impactful books i have read in the last decade or so) being blacklisted by HUAC is riveting.

It resonates with me. It is also scary in that the frenzy leading to the opposite of the belief in equality so well written into the core idea of our Declaration of Independence and our Constitution is so prevalent today.

*   *     *

i marvel at our inability to understand that. This morning as i was filling out yet another VA form of data they already have available to supposedly make the VA system more efficient and more responsive, Maureen was on the phone trying to navigate through the bureaucratic maze to get an appointment for a specialist she knew had openings but kept walking into barriers of bizarre paperwork required by all of the folks who are obeisant to rules, not logic.

I marveled at our bureaucratic lack of common sense.

i then recalled the Navy’s concern about too many reporting requirements when i was on my first ship in the late 60’s. The brass recognized the need to reduce the load on the operational forces. So, guess what? They formed a committee to determine how to reduce the number of required reports. And guess what was the initial action of the committee? They required every command to submit a report on all of the reports they had to submit and then continue to submit such a report every six months. No kidding. i don’t think they deleted one requirement for submitting a report, which means they actually added another report.

And somewhere, somewhere in all of the piles i’m trying to reduce, there is a half page report form i hope to find and scan here later. i was the overhaul coordinator for USS Okinawa’s overhaul in 1982-83.

The contracting civilian shipyard; SHIPSUP (Supervisor of Shipbuilding), the oversight, administrator, and coordinator for ship overhauls; the shipyard, and our ship recognized the delay for getting work change approval through the paper flow process would create an extension of the overhaul period. This would be a costly delay and an untenable situation for ship’s operations. So the three agreed when a manager or QA rep for the three groups were present when a need for a change was required, there could be a verbal agreement to allow for the work to proceed and the paperwork could follow.

In less than a day, the shipyard produced this half-page form. It was to be signed by the representatives of the three entities on site when they agreed to the work change.

At the top, the title of the form was “Verbal Agreement.” So it was literally a written verbal agreement.

This makes my head hurt and i am going to bed.

You see, i had this system finally worked out. Then, the old man screwed it up.

You see, as i noted yesterday when Chet Atkins screwed up my writing plans with his song about his and my father, i think i’ve settled in on a place and a method for finishing my book.

So today, i settled into my garage retreat, cranked up the monster microfiche with intentions to write like hell, like i used to go, on a mission. Then, hell, i put on another LP, 33 1/3 rpm if you will.

This time it was Crystal Gayle, “Classic Crystal” if you want to know. Man, it took me back to one of the worst times of my life, and yes, Charles Dickens, it was also one of the best. My wife decided she didn’t love me and we were en route to a divorce and my having my privilege of being a full-time dad ripped out of my heart. It was as amicable as it could be. She, the mother of my daughter, tried to make it work, but you just don’t do those kinds of things where it works. But then, i still got a lot of time with my daughter and we were a good team. It seemed at six, she almost understood. And this lieutenant commander, the senior Navy Officer on the Texas A&M campus, was much in demand.

And i met some rather incredible women. One, Judy McConnell remains one of my all time favorites. She took me to Lakeside and introduced me to line dancing, the real Texas kind. We cavorted and one day in the summer of 1979 we went to the Crystal Gayle concert in the campus concert hall. So i’m listening to Crystal singing “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue” so i lean back in my chair, close my eyes, and remember the bad and the good of those times.

So now i’ve checked two more days of ship’s logs on the monster and compared it to my notes on Yosemite’s Plans of the Day, not a very productive forty-five minutes.

Well, as the end of the record emits the familiar sound of ending, i replace it with “Duke Ellington’s Greatest Hits.” Oh now, i think i’m getting on a roll. Then, the last cut on Side Two is “Satin Doll.” Again, i stop. Oh Lord: Newport, Rhode Island, late 60’s. The place was called Hurley’s, a night club in an alley across from the Tennis Hall of Fame but i located it as across from The Tavern where i met Kathy McMahon (and here i will not tell the tale of how we met the second time). But i spent damn near every Saturday night and Sunday afternoon at Hurley’s. Hurley’s was a meeting place on Saturday’s, politically correct speaking. But on Sunday, they had a jam session and almost the entire afternoon was folks jammin’ on “Satin Doll.” i remember Kathy, Andrew Nemethy, Rob Dewitt, Lanny Harer, and Doc Jarden as i listen.

Okay, okay, back to it, i tell myself. i change the record to John Anderson’s “I Just Came Home to Count the Memories.” One of the famous USS Okinawa “Booze Brothers,” JD Waits (i was the other brother Jake; JD was Elwood) introduced me to this one. On side two, is some of the most incredible guitar work on Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right.” From that moment, i thought of my nephew Tommy Duff and his love of the guitar. Then i thought of how Alan Hicks, Cy Fraser, Jim Hicks, Billy Parsons, Mac Koch and a whole bunch of others who are bluegrass nuts, like me, and i leaned back and listened again.

Now i gotta tell you i haven’t gotten done anywhere near as much as i wanted to get done on my book. But i also realized somewhere around Crystal Gayle’s “You Never Miss a Real Good Thing (Till He Says Goodbye)” i’m about as happy as an old fart could get. i’m sitting in my place, fittingly a corner in the garage with photos and artwork of my past hanging on the wall. i’m listening to music that has been part of me. Yesterday, it was Waylon Jenning’s “I’ve Always Been Crazy (But It’s Kept Me From Going Insane)” and Bob Seger’s “Against the Wind” which i think both sort of define my life.

And i reflect on the best things of the past, again and again.

Maybe this arrangement is not real effective for working on my book, but man, it sure feels good for an old man.

Finally, i put on “The Best of Stan Getz.”

i think i’ll take a nap.