Halloween 1961

(I wrote this journal entry when I was 23 years old and in the US Navy, stationed in Pensacola, Florida)

October 31, 1961 (Tuesday, Halloween) - I wonder how Halloween got started. It has certainly lost much of its appeal lately. Perhaps children aren’t so gullible and easily frightened as they used to be. I can remember going out Trick or Treating when I was at home and being scared to death at the slightest stir in the dark. I did get the full impact of Halloween though late tonight. I was walking across the bridge separating NAS Pensacola from Warrington. It was pretty close to midnight as I took my first steps on the bridge. Suddenly dense fog surrounded me. The street lamps seemed to dim, and their white globes cast a blurry light. Below me the water lapped at the pilings. My imagination began to exercise control over my mind and I saw rats running in and out of the metal water pipes along the base of the side rail. Then the fog lifted and my senses cleared. I had crossed the bridge and was once again safe.

A Post 9/11 writing

[This blog is a journal entry that was written just after 9-11] One lesson in this life I hope I've learned is that people should not be condemned by the actions of others. Right now in America, Arab-Americans are under suspicion because of the hijackings on September 11. America is deciding how to root out terrorism not only from the United States but from the world. Many in America are targeting those of Arab descent for blame, regardless of their loyalties. I hate this. It brings tears to my eyes. Recently, a friend confessed that he would complain were he getting on an airplane with single Arab men on board. I felt sympathy for him at the moment but have come to realize after more thought that that is an intolerable idea. The ripple effect of the bombings has been to generate the best and worst in people. Donations have poured in. Many of the firefighters and policemen who labored to rescue people in the ashes of the World Trade Center have paid with their lives. It is the individual in America who makes up his/her mind whom to trust and whom not to trust. We must trust as we have trusted in the past, regardless of the cost. What happened to the Japanese at the outset of World War II must not happen to people in America again. Our security has been violated, but our bond with mankind of all races and creeds is unbroken. While our government sorts out its options for extirpating terrorism, we, the citizens, must recognize the worth of individual Americans, punishing only those who are dedicated to under-minding the fabric of our democracy. These heinous individuals cannot be recognized by their race or creed but by their deeds. It is not an easy task but must be done in order to preserve the freedoms of every American.

Not to the Rescue!

Based on the old adage, "Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime," I have come to believe that there is a big difference between helpful assistance and rescuing. How wonderful it is to help someone who is having problems dealing with things -- going for groceries, making decisions that are difficult, getting to a doctor's office, for example. These are things to assist with that are helpful. However, if you take over those responsibilites past the time that the person was unable to do those things himself, then I believe you have begun to rescue them. I'm a big believer in independence and doing everything that I can myself when possible. I live alone so must depend pretty much on no one but myself. However, if I have a bandage on my back that I can't remove, I may call on someone to help me. When I was young, my mother usurped many of my duties by doing them herself -- picking out my clothes, calling someone about a job for me, dealing with bullies at school. I resented her interference and vowed that I would raise my children to be independent. I think I have raised three who are self-sufficient and successful. They sometimes rely on me for inspiration and advice but not for much else. When you do something for someone that they could do for themselves, that is a rescue.

My thoughts at age 23

As I have told you, I have been keeping a journal since 1954 (off and on). This is a writing I did on this date just after I joined the US Navy and was stationed in Pensacola, FL:

October 25, 1961 (Wednesday) - It is funny how I can turn back in this journal and flip from 23 January when I graduated from Furman University to now -- 275 days of a life completely different from anything I have ever done. Great Lakes, Bainbridge, Camp Perry and now Pensacola. Who would have thought a year ago that I would have been traveling around like this? Who knows, this time next year I might be on the other side of the world or I might be at my same desk in AMO [Aircraft Materials Office]. The world is so changeable as are we. One day we are young; the next we are old. My life seems to be speeding by so quickly. I have so many things I want to accomplish. My friend Julie Martin once asked me my philosophy of life to which I replied that it wanted to make people happy. How can I best accomplish that? I don’t even know whether I have been half-way successful so far. It is funny how a question such as the one Julie asked can stimulate a person and challenge him. She probably didn’t even think of that. There is so much challenge for young people in the world if we only accept it.

New old words

I love words. I recently learned two things about two words that I have never thought deeply about: the words are "temple" and "infantry." When I recently read the book, The Lost Symbol, I was intrigued about Dan Brown's writing concerning our mind and how much more powerful our mind is than we give it credit for being and how being "created in the image of God" has a deeper meaning than most of us understand. In the book, one of the characters questions why we call the top of our head the "temple" if it does not imply that our mind is the seat of incredible potency. I like that. Although I subconsciously understood that the head was called the "temple," I never associated that nomenclature with anything spiritual. The other word, "infantry" is certainly a word I have flung around without thinking of the implications regarding its meaning. In Roman times, when men were sent into war, it was the younger men-- the recruits, the junior officers -- who were put on the front lines. Ergo, the word "infantry" came from the youthfulness of these who were sacrificed. Wow! I am always amazed at the words that have so much more meaning than we understand without having it pointed out to us.

Cartoon time again

It's time for a couple more of my favorite cartoons. The two I've chosen today are political cartoons, or at least they are about people in politics -- President Obama and Sarah Palin. The first is from Mother Goose and Grimm, one of my favorite cartoon strips drawn by Mike Peters, a genius. Here Mother Goose gets a delightful answer when she asks about Obama's father's home country.








Here is the infamous "Sarah," caught in the Atlanta Journal by political cartoonist Mike Luckovich doing her famous palm-reading routine.











Enjoy life; laugh a lot!

Frere Jacques

My brother Jackie and I enjoy a most unusual comaraderie. He is a Palinesque Republican while I am very much an Obaman Democrat. My brother is the cell-a-phonist while my cell phone lives in my car. However, despite my antipathy toward cell phones, I appreciate his phone calls when he is enroute to some destination. These calls are sometimes as light as the latest movie but other times are laden with controversy concerning our Republic. He has even said, "How did we grow up in the same home?" There is certainly reason to question that. However, we are as close right now as we have ever been though he lives in Georgia while I am here in Florida. We disagree on so much and yet there is enough that we agree on that we end every phone concersation with "I love you." My brother is an author and a book and film critic. I am a retired school teacher. He is three and one-half years younger than I am. We don't look alike, we don't think alike, but we enjoy and appreciate each other alike. Jackie once told me: "You are the only one left who knows my history." That is so true.

50 years ago

October 16, 1960 (Sunday) - I must say that I’m not at all keeping my diary up to date now. After seven years of constant daily undertaking to keep this journal vivid with each day’s thoughts and experiences, I have finally grown negligent. Here I sit on Thursday, October 20th, like the man in “The Lost Weekend,” trying to recapture the fleeting events of this week. The memory part of my brain must be terribly immature or weak for I shudder to think that I would be forced to fill this page with Sunday’s happenings. Sunday was just another Sunday. Perhaps I paid a little more attention to the service because it was conducted by the women of the church. I remember avoiding Eleanor Goss, because I had not purchased the organ music which she gave me $5.00 for. The afternoon sped by on the wings of sleep as this journal lay neglected in its corner of my desk. Diary, I promise to keep you up to date henceforth.

This is my journal entry of 50 years ago. I'm afraid I didn't live up to my commitment as there are gaps in my journals, some for years. Still, I will never regret the days that I wrote, the memories they evoke, and the evidence they occasionally give that my existence mattered.

My In-Laws Made an Outlaw out of Me (repeat)

My brother is the writer in the family. He has published four books, all about our family and his life in central Georgia. One of the cleverest stories he has ever written concerns the family cat, Fluff, who had to be housed with a vet during the visit of my brother’s mother-in-law, Mary Lou, who is allergic to cat hair. After I read my brother’s story, I wrote the following country music song for Fluff:

My In-Laws Made An Outlaw Out of Me

My life though blessed with loving care
Began to spin ar(eow)nd;
When Joe and Mary Lou, my in-laws,
Aimed to come to t(eow)n.

Her nose is plagued with allergies,
She says cat hair’s the curse.
But when I’m told to shed no hair
It makes me shed it worse!

My owner said, “Fluff, you must stay
Down at the kitty p(eow)nd;”
He packed my bags, gave me a pat,
My life flipped upside d(eow)n.

The other cats were mean as sin,
And treated me real rough;
For five days I was hardened;
I emerged as “Flo, the Tough.”

So when they came to take me home,
I treated them aloof;
And as they tried to scratch my head,
I swigged on 100 proof.

I guess I will forgive them soon,
They didn’t mean to hurt me;
And I will be a purrrfect cat,
If they don’t re-desert me.

(Chorus) My in-laws made an out-law out of me,
They put me in the clink without a key;
It hurt me, so I sing this melody.
My in-laws made an outlaw out of me.

DADT

Under President Clinton, a law was passed that was supposed to make it easier for gay people to serve in the military. It was given a title about as silly our word for moving pictures, the "movies." The legal designation was "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." That was seventeen years ago. President Obama promised to repeal this law which would then allow gay servicemen and women to serve without fear of being outed and kicked out of the service. During the time since this law was passed (a part of Defense Spending Act), thousands of gays have been separated from the military even though many of their areas of service were essential to the military mission. It is definitely time that this law was repealed. However, it appears lately that the courts are ahead of the politicans in justifying its repeal. Recently, a federal court ordered that a lesbian nurse who had been dismissed from the military be returned to her rank and place in the military. It was ruled that her dismissal came at the expense of the military in that she served a very important role as a nurse, one that is difficult to replace. Hopefully, this reversal is the beginning of the end of DADT.

Guilty, though not charged

When something breaks or is lost, I immediately feel guilty. Where this guilt came from, I don't know. I just know I always feel guilty. I remember when the Vietnam Memorial was opened in Washington, D.C., and Americans one and all told of their emotional reaction to the Wall, I wondered if I would be emotionally moved and, if not, was I warped? That was in 1989, and that year that I had a chance to visit Washington and determined to find my way to the Memorial, which I did. As I approached the area, I remember the apprehension I felt, fearing that I might be found lacking in emotional response to what others had so easily found moving. Then, there it was -- the wall of names, stretching on and on. All names of men and women who had given their life to insure my freedom, freedom to feel an emotional contact but also the freedom to feel nothing. But I didn't feel nothing. I felt tears well up in my eyes, and I thanked God for my ability to feel love and honor for these dead heroes.

Her Big Brothers

My children are the joy of my life -- Boh, Todd, and Robin. Boh has been involved in music most of his life. Todd, while also musical, has not had some of the breaks his brother has had and has, for the most part, had a regular job and played music on the side. Both boys began working musically in the Christian music community and eventually moved into secular music. Boh's big break came when he connected with Peter Cetera, former lead singer with the music group, Chicago. He began to do concerts with Cetera which eventually resulted in his auditioning with David Foster who is a friend of Peter Cetera. Boh's keyboard skills were strong enough that he was hired by Foster and did six concerts with him. Since then, he has been playing for both Cetera and Foster. Later this month, he will do an Asian tour with Foster. Recently, Boh learned that the Alan Parsons Project was looking for a saxaphone player and vocalist. Enter Todd, the younger son. This connection happened only a few weeks ago, and the next thing I knew Todd was on YouTube singing and playing with Alan Parsons. My daughter, Robin, who is not a musician, recently sent me an e-mail cheering on her brothers. My joy is vicariously enjoying music through them as they accomplish things in music that I only dreamed about.

Birthday Present

Pat Archibald is a teacher friend. We worked together for several years, but I retired while she continued to work. She became an administrator in an elementary school where she was incredibly successful. Pat and I belonged to a mutual admiration society and, while we didn't see each other as often as we used to when we were both working in the same office, we maintained contact via e-mail and occasional phone calls. I certainly never intended to miss her birthday, but I realized one morning that her birthday was that day, and I had not remembered to buy a card and get it in the mail. So, I did the next best thing: I called her office at school. Her secretary answered: "Ms. Archibald's office, who may I say is calling?" I responded, "Just tell her it's Tom." I had hardly finished that sentence when the secretary screamed, "Really!" I was left on the line wondering what all the excitement was about when Pat came to the phone. I immediately questioned her as to why her secretary had gone ballistic. She said, "You won't believe the coincidence. Just before you called, she asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and I said Tom Selleck." No further explanation needed.

Star over Perry, GA

I beat my brother to the draw on having grandchildren so had the grandparents all to myself for a while. However, when his first was born, Jackie Junior, my brother became the claimant for the greatest child ever born to humanity. He wrote about, called me about, exaggerated about, went on and on about his son, JJ. It was almost Messianic. After hearing so much about this marvel, we decided to make a trip to Georgia to visit the blessed parents. Just prior to our visit, Joe and Mary Lou Millard, the proud grandparents, had driven up to see this child. It was the first time we had spent time with my brother and his family in their new home so, when we walked in, the first thing Jackie said was, "Did you have any trouble finding the house?" I replied, "No, we just followed the star." He immediately jumped in with, "Good, Joseph and Mary have been here and just left." Joe and Mary Lou probably never knew how well they set up the ending for this story.

Rainy Days and Mondays

I was born with far from a perfect teeth. I learned early in life that I had four teeth, two on either side of my front teeth, that had no permanent teeth coming behind them. Dentists were perplexed, saying that I should keep those "baby" teeth as long as they lasted as they didn't know how they could replace them with something affordable that would look good. When I went into the Navy, one of the requirements was to have your teeth checked. When the lieutenant who examined my teeth saw those four teeth, he said, "Why hasn't someone pulled those?"When I gave him the explanation I had always received, he said, "Well, I'm going to pull them, and they'll have to do something." And he did; and they did. He was chewed out, but the office went to work to see what they could do to replace those teeth. What they came up with was a permanent bridge that hooked onto my front teeth. Permanent is not the best word for that bridge as I did have trouble with it later on. One of the facings kept coming off which prevented my saying plosive "s" or "f" sounds. Try that sometime. During one of my not infrequent dental visits, a humorous event occurred. My civilian dentist was quite nervous about getting a new bridge to set, connect, and look natural. As he was working to cement the bridge in place, Karen Carpenter was singing "Rainy Days and Monday" in the background. When she came to the words "Nothing ever seems to fit," Dr. Easter and I both burst into laughter.