Friday, April 18, 2014
Return to the Old Watering Hole--Friends and Dreams are There to Meet You! (African Proverb)
According to the dictionary, a memoir is a personal reminiscence and narrative of life’s events based on the writer’s personal experiences. It is a series memory vignettes. Why does anyone take the time and effort to write a memoir? I can only address the question from the perspective of my own motivations.
A memoir is very personal, very self-centered, and, therefore, must involve a certain amount of ego-indulgence. You must have a rather large ego to believe that someone may be interested in reading about the personal events in your life and perspective facts about family history. I write this for future generations in order to help those generations add a personal perspective to Sam Arnold as a person, a personal history of the times, I lived and a perspective of our family’s history.
When my father and mother passed away, I found pieces and parts of their lives and those of other ancestors told in pictures (often without names or circumstances attached), clippings, letters and documents stored away in the attic. They left many unanswered questions. I can only provide an educated guess and attempt to piece together what I think their stories were or might have been. I want to leave you with better facts than were left to me. It can be viewed as a duty for and to the generations that follow. It is a project of love.
Most of us wait too long to ask the important questions about family heritage and personal memories. God gives us overlapping generations whose stories of the past and present could easily be linked by asking the older generations to tell their stories, and to relive their memories and the stories told to them. Sadly, in most cases, the questions never get asked until there is no one around to ask. Younger generations are often bored with the stories told by the senior members of the family. However, those that memories are their lives. Young people by chronology are only beginning to assemble their memories. Your memories will be your life
Life stories are a pieces of real history. They represent a search for the right and the wrong decisions I have made in my life in order that others might perhaps learn something of value to them. Life stories pinpoint, to the extent one’s memory allows, those life-changing turning points in life, and the people who have made a difference in their life.
Life stories provide a fantasy for those who follow as to how it must have been in times before. The little pieces of history gave me insight into the personalities and events of my parents and grandparents. I want to give my descendants as clear a picture of the events and times that shaped my life and generation, as well as a history of our family from a personal perspective.
Lives and events occur sequentially in the flow of time. One day, one week, one year, one decade, one lifetime accumulating one after the other. Time does march on. Lives may be lived in linear time, but they are also a multi-leveled and multi-textured collage of experiences and meanings. Memories are a patch work of the life—snap-shots. Sometimes the real meaning of the various events are linked with other later events. The true meanings and their long term affects are not revealed until later, when they are examined in the context of maturity and/or a life lived.
Have a nice day!
Sam
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Connecting
In researching the history of the Spanish-American War and the
Philippine Insurrection and my grandfather’s participation in it, I went
to the Minnesota Historical Society’s Research Center to see what they
might have in the archives. Even though my grandfather wasn’t from
Minnesota, I thought there might be some documents or books concerning
the participation of the 13th Minnesota Regiment in the Philippines
during that war, just like my grandfather. I hoped I might find
something to help me get a feel for my grandfather’s experiences in the
same place. I browsed the bibliography and found a listing for a file
of letters written by a Minnesota soldier who had served in the
Philippines. The staff retrieved the file box from the back and brought
it to my seat in the center of the room. I wasn’t sure what the box
and the letters held, but I was totally unprepared for the experience I
was about to have.
The box contained about twelve neatly labeled manila folders filled with the personal letters of Edmund P. Neill, a twenty year old soldier from Red Wing, written to his parents, detailing his life as a young soldier in the 13th Minnesota. The letters contained wonderful descriptive details of the experiences and observations of a young man away from home for the first time. There must have been nearly a hundred letters in the folders, telling of his unit’s assembling point at Camp Ramsey in St. Paul, of his train trip across America, of Camp Merritt in San Francisco, of the cruise by ship to Manila, of the ugliness of the war and finally of his trip back home a year and a half later.
The letters were written in his hand, in pencil and in pen, and on stationery and plain notebook paper of varying sizes, each painting beautiful, ugly and sometimes humorous word pictures. His hand writing sometimes wiggled as he wrote from the train taking him to San Francisco or from the ship transporting him to the Philippines. The letters had not been written as history, but as simple family letters home from a loving son. However, as I read them, they became the living history of a young man capturing an adventure, not unlike my grandfather.
While the letters gave me a deep sense of personal connection with a man I never met and long dead, it was another small bit of paper that brought his story home on even more connective terms. In the last folder there was a small note, written in ink, on heavier manila paper. It was a pass, hand-written by a superior, intended to serve as his passage on a train into Manilla on army business. It was not the note itself that grabbed my tears; it was the discolored stains of his sweat around the edges. I could see him folding it and placing it in his pocket on a hot and steamy jungle day in the Philippines. I could see him taking it from his pocket and discovering that his perspiration had dampened and discolored it. This small sweat-stained remnant of that hot and humid day lay before my eyes nearly a hundred years later. His personal thoughts and observations had flowed from his mind through his pencil and pen onto the pages of his letters, but his sweat had flowed from his physical being. I could almost feel his presence. He was as real to me as my own grandfather. His sweat and the stains it left behind told a story of the human side of history.
Our ancestors were a part of the history of their time, no matter how small. We are part of the story of our time and our descendants will someday want to know our stories and the events that helped shape us as individuals, as families and as Americans. It is an obligation to attempt to preserve our stories in order that future generations might see the history of this country in human terms—in family terms. In order to tell the stories of our families, we must be willing to make a personal commitment to recording their legacies by extracting the stories from our own memories and those of other living relatives, the archives of dimmed photographs (often without names), family bibles, diaries, letters, newspapers, obituaries, yearbooks, census records, land records, birth certificates, death certificates, marriage certificates, military records and other little scraps left behind that begin to paint a picture of a journey through life and the history of a time.
As you patiently piece together these small webs of human information and marry them with the recorded history of their time, wonderful stories of individuals, of families and of America begin to emerge. You will begin to see that each life—each crack of light -- has a meaning of its own. We tend not to look at our own lives as human history, but each of us should consider it our obligation to leave a part of ourselves behind. These simple acts of recording our lives, no matter how mundane we feel our lives may be, will give your life a perpetuity for generations to come. But most of all it will add meaning to your own life.
We are all unique, but also linked together as human beings.
Sam
The box contained about twelve neatly labeled manila folders filled with the personal letters of Edmund P. Neill, a twenty year old soldier from Red Wing, written to his parents, detailing his life as a young soldier in the 13th Minnesota. The letters contained wonderful descriptive details of the experiences and observations of a young man away from home for the first time. There must have been nearly a hundred letters in the folders, telling of his unit’s assembling point at Camp Ramsey in St. Paul, of his train trip across America, of Camp Merritt in San Francisco, of the cruise by ship to Manila, of the ugliness of the war and finally of his trip back home a year and a half later.
The letters were written in his hand, in pencil and in pen, and on stationery and plain notebook paper of varying sizes, each painting beautiful, ugly and sometimes humorous word pictures. His hand writing sometimes wiggled as he wrote from the train taking him to San Francisco or from the ship transporting him to the Philippines. The letters had not been written as history, but as simple family letters home from a loving son. However, as I read them, they became the living history of a young man capturing an adventure, not unlike my grandfather.
While the letters gave me a deep sense of personal connection with a man I never met and long dead, it was another small bit of paper that brought his story home on even more connective terms. In the last folder there was a small note, written in ink, on heavier manila paper. It was a pass, hand-written by a superior, intended to serve as his passage on a train into Manilla on army business. It was not the note itself that grabbed my tears; it was the discolored stains of his sweat around the edges. I could see him folding it and placing it in his pocket on a hot and steamy jungle day in the Philippines. I could see him taking it from his pocket and discovering that his perspiration had dampened and discolored it. This small sweat-stained remnant of that hot and humid day lay before my eyes nearly a hundred years later. His personal thoughts and observations had flowed from his mind through his pencil and pen onto the pages of his letters, but his sweat had flowed from his physical being. I could almost feel his presence. He was as real to me as my own grandfather. His sweat and the stains it left behind told a story of the human side of history.
Our ancestors were a part of the history of their time, no matter how small. We are part of the story of our time and our descendants will someday want to know our stories and the events that helped shape us as individuals, as families and as Americans. It is an obligation to attempt to preserve our stories in order that future generations might see the history of this country in human terms—in family terms. In order to tell the stories of our families, we must be willing to make a personal commitment to recording their legacies by extracting the stories from our own memories and those of other living relatives, the archives of dimmed photographs (often without names), family bibles, diaries, letters, newspapers, obituaries, yearbooks, census records, land records, birth certificates, death certificates, marriage certificates, military records and other little scraps left behind that begin to paint a picture of a journey through life and the history of a time.
As you patiently piece together these small webs of human information and marry them with the recorded history of their time, wonderful stories of individuals, of families and of America begin to emerge. You will begin to see that each life—each crack of light -- has a meaning of its own. We tend not to look at our own lives as human history, but each of us should consider it our obligation to leave a part of ourselves behind. These simple acts of recording our lives, no matter how mundane we feel our lives may be, will give your life a perpetuity for generations to come. But most of all it will add meaning to your own life.
We are all unique, but also linked together as human beings.
Sam
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Man of the 21st Century Spotted Drowning in Sea of Technology!
I was off and running into the 21st Century. I knew I would never be a computer wiz, but I could do everything I needed. I'm an Apple man. I have an Apple 4s Iphone, an Ipod, an Ipad, and a new MacAir laptop. I have written a book, and write a Blog, Looking For Nirvana. I get the majority of my news and information from the internet. If it's on the internet it must be true. Google is the greatest development next to the internet and computer themselves. I was truly a Man of the 21st Century until now.
First of all I have too many devices. Life was simpler without a computer linked to an Ipad and an Iphone and a Ipod and then back again. It gets very confusing sometimes about what you can and cannot do with each device. Adding apps further gets me confused, not for the apps themselves, but the damned passwords. Everything needs a password. In older apps like Hotmail, I don't even know my password. I created it over twenty years ago. When fat fingers on the Iphone mistype a password several times, they want you to change your password. If you forget your password, they tell you to create a new on. Once you have done this several times, you have passwords on top of passwords. I try to keep them in my notes, but sometimes I forget. I guess I'm not alone and dumb because an Apple Genius told me passwords are among the biggest complaints he gets.
Then there are customer service issues. My complaint with Apple is that they sell software labeled Apple, but not all software is created equal. There is Apple software, then there is software made for Apple by developers. I had a genealogy program, Family Tree. Mark said I should get Reunion, the Apple program. I did and when I went to a one on one to see how to incorporate pictures, the genius told me it wasn't supported by Apple. What the hell I bought it at the Apple store. I understand why they don't support outside programs, but it still pisses me off. As I am an Apple shareholder, my fear is they will get to arrogant.
The only Microsoft app I have is Outlook (Hotmail). Recently, when trying to get various things set up on my devices, I guess I tripped a button because Hotmail was blocked on my new computer. I still get it on my Iphone and Ipad. The notification said that someone might have my Icloud password and might be trying to get into my Icloud mail. I didn't think that had happened because I was trying to straighten out some password changes. The questions they ask were confusing, at least to me. I followed the instructions, and they sent me a code. it was 4 digits. So I entered the code, and it came back that I didn't have 7 digits. What?? I also said the process wouldn't let me back in until May 14. What?? I emailed a MS Outlook support with my problem. No answer back. Then, after much searching I finally found a phone number for Outlook support. I made the call. After going through two menus I was directed to the Microsoft support website. It was where I had been many times before and the questions were the same ones that I couldn't make to work before. What?? I'm at a loss, so I guess I'll wait until May 14and see what happens.
When an old fart gets confused, he is drowning in his own machines.
I know technology is not going to slow down, and am certainly can't speed up. Until then the Man of the 21st Century will flounder furiously to stay afloat.
Have a nice day.
Sammy C.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Inside and Outside
Some readers of the Looking for Nirvana are of the older generation. They are both old friends and OLD friends. I think all of us are trying to figure what it all means.
We all think about our age. We remember our parents and run a parallel time line. They were always old to us even though they may have been younger than our kids. When we remember our parents from our younger vantage point at our age, if we were lucky enough to have had them with us, we see very old people. Yet we do not see ourselves, who maybe even older than they were at the time. However, I often look at a reflection and say.” My God I am my father”.
I have a friend who was sixty-seven, just six years older than me. I told him I don’t have friends who are sixties-seven. Sixty-seven year olds were my grandparents. As children we remember our grandparents were in their sixties. Now I have flown by sixty-seven and certainly don’t feel seventy. Do I look seventy? Of course I do. DAMNIT!
We are in a dichotomy of INSIDE AND OUTSIDE. Inside we do not feel our age.. We are still excited about things. We laugh. We cry. We computer, email and yes, there are aches and pains and meds that give away that we are not all we think we are. Overall our mind is feeling much as it has our whole life. We may even have a cell phone, an Ipod and a Blog. We observe life. We love life. We love our friends, both old and young. We don’t like, but reluctantly must accept the outside of us.
When we look outside, we see the wrinkles and the liver spots and the scars and the scalp and the gray, man boobs, saggy boobs and the food that somehow always stains our shirts. If we put our shirts in hot water we could make soup. This is how others see us, and if they are strangers they dismiss us as irrelevant. Even Nielson doesn’t give a damn what we watch of TV. They don’t recognize that some of the resources for younger spending actually come from us.
The fact is we are both inside and outside, hence a dichotomy. We really know what it means to “have your health”. Even though my mechanical inside is a mess between heart attack, by-pass surgeries, prostate cancer and coming cataracts and who knows what else, I consider myself healthy because my mind is active and happy, even though the short term memory is suspect. I do feel genuinely good right now. I only feel unhealthy when I have the flu or bronchitis, but they eventually pass. I surround myself with as many young adults and children as I can. They keep me in touch with their present and their future. I truly love them. I like to help them whether it is them giving advice, listening to them and their music (rap is a No! No!) or a little gift they would not give themselves. Their hugs make me happy and that’s all I ever ask. I work for hugs.
I am truly blessed in life. Now where is that plastic surgeon when I need him?
Have a nice day!
Sammy Carl
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
The One Percenters!
Lots has been said about the One Percenters. The top one percent earned 17.67% (500K or more annually in pay. The greater disparity, however, is in total wealth (real estate, stocks, bonds, homes etc.) They also pay more taxes than the 90% of the tax payers. There are many that think that the rich should be taxed even more.
So how do I feel about the top one percent or even the top 10%? Mixed feelings! I’m all for those who have achieved the status of the rich, but I have a few caveats. I most admire the entrepreneur, who built a business from scratch, adding jobs and careers to America.The earned it because of the faith in an idea and the persistence to make it succeed. Congratulations! You earned every penny. Bill Gates and Steve Jobs come to the top of my list. I have trouble with inherited wealth, at least for the second generation, who often develop the greedy habits of the rich and lazy. I have problems of all these people who display their wealth in obnoxious and show off actions and lifestyles. Another class I have few issues with are overpaid business executives, especially those who are paid millions, yet their performance is poor. In this matter you can blame the too cozy boards.
How much do you need.?How many homes does any one need? How many cars do they need? How much? How Much?
I particularly like what Bill Gates, Warren Buffet and a few others are doing. Gates has given 95% of his billions and Warren Buffet has given 100% of his wealth to be administered by the Gates Foundation. Bill Gates is dedicated to helping third world countries solve basic needs of the human being, like potable water and food. Their heirs are not left penniless, but most of it is for the good of the world. Mark Zuckenberg of Facebook fame pledged $100M to the Newark NJ schools. He also takes a salary of one dollar per year. Of course his billions are mostly in the stock of his company.
Gates and Buffet have also launched a quest to get others of the super rich to use their millions and billions for good causes. They are attempting to develop a whole new economy. An economy that does good and is not government. It is sort of a tax that they control how the money is spent and is focused. Buffet was asked if his quests to enroll others of the super rich class to give the majority of their “excess” wealth to the common good. He said not everyone signs up. He said that he was going to write a book about how to live on a half a billion dollars.
In away giving it away for the common good is better than an increased tax that disappears in the maize of government spending.
I’m not super rich or even rich,butI have been blessed with a comfortable life. However, I tend to live a minimal lifestyle. Yes, I do live on the ocean. I rent, I have a eight year old car, the clothes in my closet and an IRA and a small pension. I want my money to go to my passion of giving scholarships for the deserving young person. My brothers and I had successful business careers which we attribute the the values of our parents and the college degrees we obtained. We were the first generation in our family to graduate from college. I want to pay that forward. I have set up two scholarship funds in memory of my son and nephew and our parents with the San Diego Foundation and the Grant County, Indiana Foundation. I also stumbled onto another way to pay it forward by volunteering to evaluate and grade scholarship applications. I don't say this to brag about what a good person I am, but to urge others who have the means to give some of it away for future generations. Time is also money.
Think about it. You know you are not taking it with you. Pay it forward for the common good.
Sam Arnold
So how do I feel about the top one percent or even the top 10%? Mixed feelings! I’m all for those who have achieved the status of the rich, but I have a few caveats. I most admire the entrepreneur, who built a business from scratch, adding jobs and careers to America.The earned it because of the faith in an idea and the persistence to make it succeed. Congratulations! You earned every penny. Bill Gates and Steve Jobs come to the top of my list. I have trouble with inherited wealth, at least for the second generation, who often develop the greedy habits of the rich and lazy. I have problems of all these people who display their wealth in obnoxious and show off actions and lifestyles. Another class I have few issues with are overpaid business executives, especially those who are paid millions, yet their performance is poor. In this matter you can blame the too cozy boards.
How much do you need.?How many homes does any one need? How many cars do they need? How much? How Much?
I particularly like what Bill Gates, Warren Buffet and a few others are doing. Gates has given 95% of his billions and Warren Buffet has given 100% of his wealth to be administered by the Gates Foundation. Bill Gates is dedicated to helping third world countries solve basic needs of the human being, like potable water and food. Their heirs are not left penniless, but most of it is for the good of the world. Mark Zuckenberg of Facebook fame pledged $100M to the Newark NJ schools. He also takes a salary of one dollar per year. Of course his billions are mostly in the stock of his company.
Gates and Buffet have also launched a quest to get others of the super rich to use their millions and billions for good causes. They are attempting to develop a whole new economy. An economy that does good and is not government. It is sort of a tax that they control how the money is spent and is focused. Buffet was asked if his quests to enroll others of the super rich class to give the majority of their “excess” wealth to the common good. He said not everyone signs up. He said that he was going to write a book about how to live on a half a billion dollars.
In away giving it away for the common good is better than an increased tax that disappears in the maize of government spending.
I’m not super rich or even rich,butI have been blessed with a comfortable life. However, I tend to live a minimal lifestyle. Yes, I do live on the ocean. I rent, I have a eight year old car, the clothes in my closet and an IRA and a small pension. I want my money to go to my passion of giving scholarships for the deserving young person. My brothers and I had successful business careers which we attribute the the values of our parents and the college degrees we obtained. We were the first generation in our family to graduate from college. I want to pay that forward. I have set up two scholarship funds in memory of my son and nephew and our parents with the San Diego Foundation and the Grant County, Indiana Foundation. I also stumbled onto another way to pay it forward by volunteering to evaluate and grade scholarship applications. I don't say this to brag about what a good person I am, but to urge others who have the means to give some of it away for future generations. Time is also money.
Think about it. You know you are not taking it with you. Pay it forward for the common good.
Sam Arnold
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Just Askin'??????
I try to keep my Blog on the stuff of life and its experiences. I try not to venture politically (anymore) But I am going to venture into the world of Affordable Healthcare. I do believe that ever American should have healthcare, but I am wondering about what we are being given will actually solve the problem that we have been sold on.
In order to keep clear of a weighted opinion, I just have a few questions, that I don’t believe have been answered. If they have, please direct me to a source, Did I say the media is lazy?
When the ACA was on its first legs of being sold to the public, the number of 40 million Americans did not have health insurance was liberally thrown around.. At the moment Obama has shouted out success at 7.1 million sign ups and another 3 million in expanded medicare. That’s 10.1 million of the 40 million. Thats 25%. Does this meet the objective? How? Will all of the sign ups actually pay their first premium when the bill comes.
2. Of that 7.1 million how many are those who lost their insurance due to the rules of coverage are among these 7.1 million?
3. When they say they are saving money on annual premiums or a low cost premiums, are the buyers aware of co-pay and deductibles linked to the insurance? Poor people have cash flow problems and full pay is a problem.
4. The ACA will subsidize those who are of too low an income. How will that subsidy be reimbursed to the newly insured. I have heard the IRS is in charge. Will this subsidy be paid directly monthly or will it be handled as an amount credited to them at the end of the tax year? Thats a cash flow problem for the person.
5. What about the fines for those who don't have insurance. Again the IRS is in charge. Most of the uninsured don't have money to afford insurance let alone paying a fine. The chances of fines being implemented are minimal. The only thing this subsidy-fine situation will create is a bigger bureaucracy at the IRS.
6. Of the people who signed up how many are in the critical age group of 18-35? The capturing of these uninsured is critical to the actuarially feasibility of the insurance..
7. What is being done to rein in the cost of healthcare itself? Why are our pharmaceutical costs the highest in the world? The border is sixteen miles from where I live and the drugs are less expensive for the same thing.
8. Does ACA primarily benefit the ordinary American or the insurance companies?
9. Most congressman didn't even read or understand the act. And then of course excluded themselves.
Medicare does work, even though it is going bankrupt. That can be fixed by better priorities in congress. We bailed out the financial and auto companies to the tune of at least $700 B. Perhaps, if we ended the wars that have cost so much and accomplished nothing, except Trillion or so dollars.
10. Who wrote this complicated Bill anyway? They know what's in it and the whys and where fors of the details. Did the insurance Lobbyist actually write it? Who are these people?
There, I’ve ask. Do we have some answers somewhere out there.
Have a nice day!
Samuel C. Arnold
In order to keep clear of a weighted opinion, I just have a few questions, that I don’t believe have been answered. If they have, please direct me to a source, Did I say the media is lazy?
When the ACA was on its first legs of being sold to the public, the number of 40 million Americans did not have health insurance was liberally thrown around.. At the moment Obama has shouted out success at 7.1 million sign ups and another 3 million in expanded medicare. That’s 10.1 million of the 40 million. Thats 25%. Does this meet the objective? How? Will all of the sign ups actually pay their first premium when the bill comes.
2. Of that 7.1 million how many are those who lost their insurance due to the rules of coverage are among these 7.1 million?
3. When they say they are saving money on annual premiums or a low cost premiums, are the buyers aware of co-pay and deductibles linked to the insurance? Poor people have cash flow problems and full pay is a problem.
4. The ACA will subsidize those who are of too low an income. How will that subsidy be reimbursed to the newly insured. I have heard the IRS is in charge. Will this subsidy be paid directly monthly or will it be handled as an amount credited to them at the end of the tax year? Thats a cash flow problem for the person.
5. What about the fines for those who don't have insurance. Again the IRS is in charge. Most of the uninsured don't have money to afford insurance let alone paying a fine. The chances of fines being implemented are minimal. The only thing this subsidy-fine situation will create is a bigger bureaucracy at the IRS.
6. Of the people who signed up how many are in the critical age group of 18-35? The capturing of these uninsured is critical to the actuarially feasibility of the insurance..
7. What is being done to rein in the cost of healthcare itself? Why are our pharmaceutical costs the highest in the world? The border is sixteen miles from where I live and the drugs are less expensive for the same thing.
8. Does ACA primarily benefit the ordinary American or the insurance companies?
9. Most congressman didn't even read or understand the act. And then of course excluded themselves.
Medicare does work, even though it is going bankrupt. That can be fixed by better priorities in congress. We bailed out the financial and auto companies to the tune of at least $700 B. Perhaps, if we ended the wars that have cost so much and accomplished nothing, except Trillion or so dollars.
10. Who wrote this complicated Bill anyway? They know what's in it and the whys and where fors of the details. Did the insurance Lobbyist actually write it? Who are these people?
There, I’ve ask. Do we have some answers somewhere out there.
Have a nice day!
Samuel C. Arnold
Friday, April 4, 2014
Observation of Day!
This morning I sat at the Ferry Landing in Coronado. It was a place where I spent much time waiting for the Coronado Ferry to transport my car and me to adventures in San Diego in the 1960s The skyline of 1960 San Diego was indelibly set in my minds eye forever. The car ferry is gone now, replaced by the sweeping Coronado Bridge.
The Ferry Landing is now touristy shops, restaurants and on Tuesday a Farmer’s Market. The day was bright and sunny. The winds were calm; the water and sky blue. I sat there basking in the sun and watched the world of San Diego Bay’s busy morning go by.
The Navy Seal swift boats crossed in front of me at great speed bouncing in the water, carrying their Seal trainees to a day of hard physical work. I always thought being a swift boat pilot in San Diego Bay had to be the greatest job in the navy and being a Seal was the toughest job in the navy. The Seals are the last of the fearless warriors.
Tug boats #8 and # 9 lead a Navy tanker ship out of the Bay for work. The ship was low in the water and moved swiftly and quietly by, hardly making a wake. A barge carrying three military vehicles to somewhere pushed their wake before them.
The winds were calm so the sailboats were under motor power. The water is cold, but that doesn’t stop a couple of wave runners skimming over the waters with the pilots in wetsuits. They are nuts!
The passenger ferry propelled itself to the ferry pier, leaving it passengers. They were the usual assortment of tourists and people on a mission to someplace in Coronado. You could tell be cause tourists meander and people with a mission walk swiftly by, hardly paying attention to anything in their periphery sight.
I noticed what looked like a small rowboat with men fishing floating idly in the middle of the Bay with hardly a care in the world. I wondered what would happen to them if another Navy ship passed their way.
Across the Bay is Petco Park, home of the Padres. Take me out to the ballgame and buy me a $9.00 beer.
There are cargo ships being loaded or unloaded at the Port of San Diego and ships being built at National Steel and Ship Building dry docks.. You can see the top of Carrier #41, the USS Midway, retired to the San Diego embarcadero as a museum, where people can board and tour a real carrier. I sure it means the most to those who served during WWII.
And finally, there is the magnificent back drop of the skyscrapers of downtown San Diego today. It is quite different from the skyline I absorbed in my mind in the early sixties, as I waited for the ferry. I love them both.
I watched the kids and their parents and the dogs, enjoying this Nirvana in the sunshine as much as your old observer.
I think I’ll just stay here. I think I’ll just stay here.
Have a nice day.
Sam
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Every Life is a Story
As I reached 76, I gained new insight into me. I have come to realization that I have accomplished everything that I was meant to accomplish in my time on Earth. No, it doesn’t mean I have given-up. I am merely saying that I am at peace with myself, my world and my God. It’s a good place.
And now, the end is here And so I face the final curtain My friend, I'll say it clear I'll state my case, of which I'm certain I've lived a life that's full Yes I have. I traveled each and ev'ry highway For certain And more, much more than this, I did it my way
I asked myself, what would I change, if I could? I can honestly say I don’t think of anything.. Oh yes, I suppose there is a few things, but everything in the end turned out all right.
Regrets, I've had a few But then again, too few to mention I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway And more, much more than this, I did it my way
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew When I bit off more than I could chew But through it all, when there was doubt I ate it up and spit it out I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way I've loved, I've laughed and cried I've had my fill, my share of losing And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing To think I did all that And may I say, not in a shy way, "Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way" For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kne The record shows I took the blows and did it my way! Yes, it was my way
Thanks Frank.
And now, the end is here And so I face the final curtain My friend, I'll say it clear I'll state my case, of which I'm certain I've lived a life that's full Yes I have. I traveled each and ev'ry highway For certain And more, much more than this, I did it my way
I asked myself, what would I change, if I could? I can honestly say I don’t think of anything.. Oh yes, I suppose there is a few things, but everything in the end turned out all right.
Regrets, I've had a few But then again, too few to mention I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway And more, much more than this, I did it my way
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew When I bit off more than I could chew But through it all, when there was doubt I ate it up and spit it out I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way I've loved, I've laughed and cried I've had my fill, my share of losing And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing To think I did all that And may I say, not in a shy way, "Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way" For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kne The record shows I took the blows and did it my way! Yes, it was my way
Thanks Frank.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Base a ball Bin Berry, Berry Good To Me!
It’s that time year again when optimism borders on fantasy. Baseball is back. I don’t think there is any sport that its preseason optimism overtakes reality in the mind of a baseball fan. We all know someone will lose over a 100 games of a 162 game season. But let’s face it, it is all part of the ritual in a game full of rituals. Each season brings back our childhood memories of our American summer pastime.
What baseball fan doesn't remember their first big league game? My first favorite team was the Chicago Cubs. Not much has changed with the Cubs in my life time, and that’s a pretty long time. Our initial fandom was awakened by listening the game of the nearest team on the radio. Announcers became household names. The games might be broadcast live, but if the team was on the road, it would be done by ticker tape. The ticker would tell the announcer in the most minimal way, “Fly out left.” at that point the announcer would fill in a make believe scenario, complete with sound affects and crowd noise. Radio in the late 40’s was a medium of make believe and imagination. Many announcers be became synonymous with the team itself. Those velvet tones were around most of my life time and some broadcast of them broadcast more than fifty years. As I moved around the country, each big league town thought their announcer was the best. It was the voice of their team, even though you thought yours was better. You grew up from boyhood to adulthood with these voices playing in your head. They were part of your every season. The only one left of the classics is Vin Scully. He’s been doing the Dodgers games since their Brooklyn days. That’s 60 years, and he is 85 years old. But that velvet voice paints the picture of many colors like no other.
My dad was always a Yankee fan. What’s that all about? We lived in Indiana. The Cubs game was always on the radio at our small South Marion grocery store.
I guess it was time for our father to take my brother and me to see our first major league game, Cubs vs Reds at Crosley Field in Cincinnati. Although it was the home of the Reds from 1884 -1970, it became Crosley Field in 1934, when Phillip Crosley bought the team. It was abandoned in 1970 for Riverfront Stadium. An interesting side note is that none other than Pete Rose launched the wrecking ball to begin the destruction of this classic American baseball shrine.
Cincinnati was an 135 mile drive over two lane roads. We were so excited. We arrived at the ballpark early. This is a habit I continue to this day. We walked down a little alley between the left field wall and the laundry with the Budweiser sign on the roof to where the box-office was located. (I once witnessed Hank Aaron, hit a home run over that sign.) Dad paid for the tickets. Box seats were $8.00, team hats were $1.00. The walls outside were gray. We entered the stadium and for the first time gazed at a real Big League ballpark.
What I remembered most was how brilliantly green the grass was. You must remember every television set and newsreel in the theater were black and white, The grass was gray. The next thing I noticed was the sights, sounds and smells in a big league ballpark. The crack of the bat echoing around the stadium during batting practice, the smell of the newly perfectly mowed grass and perfectly raked infield. The occasional shout that reverberated around the park. Boiled ballpark hot dogs, the watered down icy lemonade, the stale popcorn was just as much a part of the experience as the game itself. Crosley had one unique feature. The front of the outfield walls was banked as a warning track. It could also claim that it once was flooded by the great Ohio River. It was deep enough for a boat.
However, my favorite sound was the sound of metal spikes clicking along on the cement outside the clubhouse. The Red’s clubhouse was behind a metal gate The players would have to come out of the area to the fan’s concourse under the stadium. It was great because most every player would sign an autograph. When I had my own spikes, and we played ball in the old Back Lot, I loved walking along the little sidewalk to the sound of spikes and cement.It made me feel like a big league ball player in my baseball mind of make believe.
We also happen to run into Bert Wilson, the radio voice of the Cubs.who was my hero, Bert was on his way to the broadcast booth. My dad yelled “Hey Bert” He stopped and I ran up and got his autograph. I valued that as much as any player’s autograph. In the history of the great Cubs announcers, including Harry Carey and Jack Brickhouse, he is not long remembered, but in my mind he was one of the best. He broadcast the Cubs from 1944-1955. However, his catch phrases are still part of being a Cubs Fan. “ I don’t care who wins as long as it’s the Cubs. Its a beautiful day at Wrigley Field. Bingo to Bango to Bilko.” This was the Cubs great double play combination, Ernie Banks to Gene Baker to Steve Bilko.
I don’t even remember who won the game thatday, but I sure do remember the day.
It was the best day of my life.
Padres-Dodgers. Its a beautiful day at Petco.
Have a great day.
Sammy Carl
What baseball fan doesn't remember their first big league game? My first favorite team was the Chicago Cubs. Not much has changed with the Cubs in my life time, and that’s a pretty long time. Our initial fandom was awakened by listening the game of the nearest team on the radio. Announcers became household names. The games might be broadcast live, but if the team was on the road, it would be done by ticker tape. The ticker would tell the announcer in the most minimal way, “Fly out left.” at that point the announcer would fill in a make believe scenario, complete with sound affects and crowd noise. Radio in the late 40’s was a medium of make believe and imagination. Many announcers be became synonymous with the team itself. Those velvet tones were around most of my life time and some broadcast of them broadcast more than fifty years. As I moved around the country, each big league town thought their announcer was the best. It was the voice of their team, even though you thought yours was better. You grew up from boyhood to adulthood with these voices playing in your head. They were part of your every season. The only one left of the classics is Vin Scully. He’s been doing the Dodgers games since their Brooklyn days. That’s 60 years, and he is 85 years old. But that velvet voice paints the picture of many colors like no other.
My dad was always a Yankee fan. What’s that all about? We lived in Indiana. The Cubs game was always on the radio at our small South Marion grocery store.
I guess it was time for our father to take my brother and me to see our first major league game, Cubs vs Reds at Crosley Field in Cincinnati. Although it was the home of the Reds from 1884 -1970, it became Crosley Field in 1934, when Phillip Crosley bought the team. It was abandoned in 1970 for Riverfront Stadium. An interesting side note is that none other than Pete Rose launched the wrecking ball to begin the destruction of this classic American baseball shrine.
Cincinnati was an 135 mile drive over two lane roads. We were so excited. We arrived at the ballpark early. This is a habit I continue to this day. We walked down a little alley between the left field wall and the laundry with the Budweiser sign on the roof to where the box-office was located. (I once witnessed Hank Aaron, hit a home run over that sign.) Dad paid for the tickets. Box seats were $8.00, team hats were $1.00. The walls outside were gray. We entered the stadium and for the first time gazed at a real Big League ballpark.
What I remembered most was how brilliantly green the grass was. You must remember every television set and newsreel in the theater were black and white, The grass was gray. The next thing I noticed was the sights, sounds and smells in a big league ballpark. The crack of the bat echoing around the stadium during batting practice, the smell of the newly perfectly mowed grass and perfectly raked infield. The occasional shout that reverberated around the park. Boiled ballpark hot dogs, the watered down icy lemonade, the stale popcorn was just as much a part of the experience as the game itself. Crosley had one unique feature. The front of the outfield walls was banked as a warning track. It could also claim that it once was flooded by the great Ohio River. It was deep enough for a boat.
However, my favorite sound was the sound of metal spikes clicking along on the cement outside the clubhouse. The Red’s clubhouse was behind a metal gate The players would have to come out of the area to the fan’s concourse under the stadium. It was great because most every player would sign an autograph. When I had my own spikes, and we played ball in the old Back Lot, I loved walking along the little sidewalk to the sound of spikes and cement.It made me feel like a big league ball player in my baseball mind of make believe.
We also happen to run into Bert Wilson, the radio voice of the Cubs.who was my hero, Bert was on his way to the broadcast booth. My dad yelled “Hey Bert” He stopped and I ran up and got his autograph. I valued that as much as any player’s autograph. In the history of the great Cubs announcers, including Harry Carey and Jack Brickhouse, he is not long remembered, but in my mind he was one of the best. He broadcast the Cubs from 1944-1955. However, his catch phrases are still part of being a Cubs Fan. “ I don’t care who wins as long as it’s the Cubs. Its a beautiful day at Wrigley Field. Bingo to Bango to Bilko.” This was the Cubs great double play combination, Ernie Banks to Gene Baker to Steve Bilko.
I don’t even remember who won the game thatday, but I sure do remember the day.
It was the best day of my life.
Padres-Dodgers. Its a beautiful day at Petco.
Have a great day.
Sammy Carl
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