Sunday, May 22, 2011
Final Tribute to the Huey
I worked with Larry (Lawrence Castagneto) when I taught instruments at ACE. My mom also knows Larry. What an honor to have been chosen to give the last official good bye to the huey! Good job Larry!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Helicopter Crash in Alaska
NTSB Report
This was the only crash I experienced in my flying career. My boss told me afterward that if you stay in this business long enough, there are those that have and those that will.
There is a negative safety attitude in aviation where someone says, "It can't happen to me." Any time I buckle into a helicopter I realize I might not have the opportunity to unbuckle. I'm very fortunate in the above event that I was able to unbuckle. I'm also very grateful that I didn't lose my dog. I view flying as an exercise in stacking the deck in your favor. Even though you are able to do that, you never really know how the cards may fall.
We were camped at Charlie Lake Alaska.
View Larger Map I didn't remember the lake name from the previous story of Sadie not wanting a bath. On the morning of our crash the survey crew consisting of an instrument man and a rod girl requested I take them back to the place they were working the previous afternoon.
I pulled on some rain boots and called Sadie to go with us. The Hughes 500 has a bench seat in front that can sit three. The pilot sat on the left side and the instrument man sat on the right. Sadie sat in the middle. Molly the rod girl sat in the back.
It was a pleasant flight to the job location. I returned to the same ridge I had landed on the previous afternoon. After touching down I reevaluated the wind conditions. The crew really needed to go to a rocky outcrop on the end of the ridge. I made them hike there the previous day because the winds were not favorable for landing on the rocky outcrop. The winds were considerably calmer this morning, so I asked the crew if they would like for me to get them closer to where they needed to go. They said yes.
I increased pitch to get airborne again and proceeded to the rocky outcrop at a high hover. When I reduced my collective pitch to descend on my chosen landing spot at a five thousand foot elevation I experienced a left yaw followed by warning lights illuminating with audio alerts. It was all the indications of an engine failure. In a turbine helicopter, if the engine is going to quit it will most likely quit when you make a power adjustment either up or down. I had just reduced my power.
My training kicked in and I automatically reacted. I reduced my collective to full down to enter autorotation while applying right pedal and reducing my throttle to flight idle. Then I evaluated my potential landing area. It was rocky and craggy with no good area to sit down safely with a power off landing. I reasoned that there was a high potential of ending up rolling down the mountain. My brain said I needed to get farther away from the mountain to try to autorotate to a better area. I then instinctively did what could have been a very dangerous maneuver.
I simultaneous increased collective and moved the cyclic to get us farther away from the mountain. We went from 15 to 20 feet AGL (Above Ground Level) to 300 feet AGL in a split second. This was a critical maneuver because when the engine quits only centrifugal force and the wind feeding through the rotor system will keep it spinning. If you do not reduce power or if you increase power like I did after reducing it you will slow your rotor system down. If it gets below a certain point you will not be able to regain enough rotor RPM to autorotate safely and you will fall like a rock.
All of this happened much faster than I can tell the story. After moving laterally away from the mountain I told myself that I have to now lower my collective and take what I get. Because if I didn't we would fall like a rock. I once again lowered my collective to full down. The 300 feet of AGL altitude I had gained, not by climbing but by moving laterally away from the mountain top quickly diminished as the aircraft fell closer to the mountain side. But, as it fell my rotor RPM increased and I increased airspeed. It seems like we fell to within a yard of the mountain. Then we scooted along the steep slope of the mountain for what seems like a good 700 feet until I got enough airspeed to pull away from the mountain.
My pucker factor was pretty cranked up as we scooted a mere few feet above the surface of the slope. I know I was praying as I willed the aircraft from hitting the mountain. After scooting along the slope for what seemed at least 700 feet and finally getting enough airspeed to pull away from the mountain I relaxed some. Whoa, that was close, but we still weren't safely across the finish line.
I had a split decision now. I could turn up the valley and try to make some nice flat tundra off in the distance. If I could make the tundra that would be very nice. But, before I got there I would have to cross some tall trees and a cliff. I wasn't sure if I could glide that far and terminating in the trees and cliff could easily be catastrophic. The other choice was turning down canyon. From my altitude it looked like I had a choice of a multitude of gravel bars with no tall trees or cliffs. This choice had a slight four knot tail wind. It is almost always better to land into the wind, but as inviting as the tundra seemed if I could make it the gravel bars seemed like the more conservative course to take. So I chose it.
After making this decision I checked all of my flight instruments. My engine had not completely failed. I apparently had a low side governor failure. I next rolled my throttle completely on hoping my engine would recover. It did not. I should have then closed my throttle completely and turned my fuel switch off, but through hangar flying I had a small amount of poison introduced into my thinking. Normally hangar flying is beneficial, but in this case a buddy told me about a friend of his that had an engine failure and after the crash they put the aircraft engine on a testbed and could find nothing wrong with it. So, they accused my friend's friend of rolling his own throttle off. So stupidly I decided to leave my throttle full on. I told myself that no one will accuse me of rolling my own throttle off. I also told myself that having been a military instructor pilot I had done many practice autorotations and this would simply be like one of those.
Also a little pride kicked in. I had been trained well and considered myself to be a good pilot. I thought of calling my boss after a successful termination and teasing him about needing a new engine if I did a good job on setting this bird down without power.
This period of time was like the eye of the storm. A hurricane hits with a lot of violence. If the eye of the storm passes over you it becomes peaceful, but another wallop is soon to follow.
As I got closer to what I thought were gravel bars from three thousand feet above I realized they were not gravel bars but bolder bars. Before I touched down I told myself that I was going to need more than a new engine landing to this mess. I knew I was going to take damage. I just didn't know how much.
At fifty feet I decelerated my aircraft to lose forward airspeed. At ten to fifteen feet I applied some cushioning collective pitch, then just prior to touch down I applied the remainder of my collective pitch to effect a soft touchdown. And we did touchdown soft and pretty right on top of two large boulders. Good job Robert! Pride well deserved! (Don't you know pride comes before a fall)
The top of the two boulders were not sufficient enough to support the helicopter, so it rocked back and the tail rotor struck the ground. All was quiet though. I thought it was over. We had safely crossed the finish line.
I could tell Sadie was concerned. She had never experienced a landing like this. After everything came to rest I released all the controls and turned to Sadie to tell her everything was going to be alright.
I got "Sadie, everything is going to..." out of my mouth when because of the slight jarring of the tail rotor striking the ground and the large collective pitch increase which tells the governor that the engine needs more fuel what ever had malfunctioned decided to right itself. A ton of fuel got shot to my helicopter's engine with my collective pitch full up.
You can find a debate among helicopter pilots about what to do with the throttle in the situation I faced. Some say leave it full on to get a little assistance at the bottom. All the Army manuals say close the throttle completely and turn off the main fuel prior to touchdown. If I had followed those manuals I would have had a head swollen with pride from the excellent job I had done setting that disabled helicopter down. I learned the hard way why they say to shut everything down.
When my engine received that full shot of fuel we ended up back in the air swapping ends as fast as the rotor blades turn. We were spinning so fast that outside was not a blur, it was just one solid color. My head was shaking so violently I thought it could literally shake off of my body. If I had not let go of my controls to tell Sadie everything was going to be alright, I would have immediately closed my throttle. As it was centrifugal force would not allow me to get back to the controls.
These thoughts went through my head, I thought of calling my boss previously and teasing him after doing a good job, now I wondered if I would get to call him, then I wondered if I would get to call anybody. Then the realization hit me that this was going to kill us, it was really going to kill us. When that thought hit me, I shouted as loud as I could, "God I want to live!".
The quiet was instantaneous. I had to look down at myself to check that I was still alive. When I realized I was I asked my passengers if they were okay. They both said they were. I then said, "well lets get out of this thing".
There was a small engine fire. I got the aircraft's fire extinguisher and put the fire out. Everything that was loose in the helicopter was scattered all over the boulder bar. Papers were everywhere and Sadie Dog was gone! I spent the next forty-five minutes looking for her. She was nowhere to be found.
The helicopter had come to rest in the small stream bed that ran through the valley. The skids were knocked off and the clam-shell that housed the engine was caved in from striking a large boulder that shut the engine off at the moment I shouted, "God I want to live!" It was easily a 50/50 chance that my head would have struck that boulder. I asked the instrument man to help me tilt the helicopter up so that Molly could look underneath it for Sadie Dog. Before we did, she asked me if I really wanted to know. I told her I have to know one way or another.
Sadie was not under the helicopter. I didn't know what else to do as far as looking for her, so I got the ELT (Emergency Locator Transmitter) out of the helicopter and decided to climb the mountain with it so the signal could get out better and rescue could find us.
A quarter of the way up the mountain I stopped to look around. About a quarter of a mile away from the crash site I spied a little black and white thing running as fast as she could back to the crash. Sadie had evidently been tossed out of the helicopter during its death spin and hit the ground running. I shouted, "Sadie! Hey Sadie!" She heard me and stopped to look in my direction. When she saw me a huge wiggle went through her whole body, then she cut a beeline for me. But, she only ran about twenty feet when she stopped again to make a double-take and see if it was really me. When she saw me the second time another huge wiggle went through her whole body and then she started running toward me again.
She didn't stop until she got to me. When she did she whimpered, "Uhmm, Uhmm, Uhmm." I said, "Yea baby that was bad". But I had tears of joy running down my check having been reunited with my dog. We climbed the mountain together and set the ELT down on top. Then we headed back down to the crash site. When we got within twenty feet of the helicopter she whimpered again. When a rescue helicopter showed up to pick us up, she didn't much want to get on board, but she did. She was still a great traveler and a great companion dog.
I sure miss you Sadie... we had quite the time!
SurvivalDog out...ciao
This was the only crash I experienced in my flying career. My boss told me afterward that if you stay in this business long enough, there are those that have and those that will.
There is a negative safety attitude in aviation where someone says, "It can't happen to me." Any time I buckle into a helicopter I realize I might not have the opportunity to unbuckle. I'm very fortunate in the above event that I was able to unbuckle. I'm also very grateful that I didn't lose my dog. I view flying as an exercise in stacking the deck in your favor. Even though you are able to do that, you never really know how the cards may fall.
We were camped at Charlie Lake Alaska.
View Larger Map I didn't remember the lake name from the previous story of Sadie not wanting a bath. On the morning of our crash the survey crew consisting of an instrument man and a rod girl requested I take them back to the place they were working the previous afternoon.
I pulled on some rain boots and called Sadie to go with us. The Hughes 500 has a bench seat in front that can sit three. The pilot sat on the left side and the instrument man sat on the right. Sadie sat in the middle. Molly the rod girl sat in the back.
It was a pleasant flight to the job location. I returned to the same ridge I had landed on the previous afternoon. After touching down I reevaluated the wind conditions. The crew really needed to go to a rocky outcrop on the end of the ridge. I made them hike there the previous day because the winds were not favorable for landing on the rocky outcrop. The winds were considerably calmer this morning, so I asked the crew if they would like for me to get them closer to where they needed to go. They said yes.
I increased pitch to get airborne again and proceeded to the rocky outcrop at a high hover. When I reduced my collective pitch to descend on my chosen landing spot at a five thousand foot elevation I experienced a left yaw followed by warning lights illuminating with audio alerts. It was all the indications of an engine failure. In a turbine helicopter, if the engine is going to quit it will most likely quit when you make a power adjustment either up or down. I had just reduced my power.
My training kicked in and I automatically reacted. I reduced my collective to full down to enter autorotation while applying right pedal and reducing my throttle to flight idle. Then I evaluated my potential landing area. It was rocky and craggy with no good area to sit down safely with a power off landing. I reasoned that there was a high potential of ending up rolling down the mountain. My brain said I needed to get farther away from the mountain to try to autorotate to a better area. I then instinctively did what could have been a very dangerous maneuver.
I simultaneous increased collective and moved the cyclic to get us farther away from the mountain. We went from 15 to 20 feet AGL (Above Ground Level) to 300 feet AGL in a split second. This was a critical maneuver because when the engine quits only centrifugal force and the wind feeding through the rotor system will keep it spinning. If you do not reduce power or if you increase power like I did after reducing it you will slow your rotor system down. If it gets below a certain point you will not be able to regain enough rotor RPM to autorotate safely and you will fall like a rock.
All of this happened much faster than I can tell the story. After moving laterally away from the mountain I told myself that I have to now lower my collective and take what I get. Because if I didn't we would fall like a rock. I once again lowered my collective to full down. The 300 feet of AGL altitude I had gained, not by climbing but by moving laterally away from the mountain top quickly diminished as the aircraft fell closer to the mountain side. But, as it fell my rotor RPM increased and I increased airspeed. It seems like we fell to within a yard of the mountain. Then we scooted along the steep slope of the mountain for what seems like a good 700 feet until I got enough airspeed to pull away from the mountain.
My pucker factor was pretty cranked up as we scooted a mere few feet above the surface of the slope. I know I was praying as I willed the aircraft from hitting the mountain. After scooting along the slope for what seemed at least 700 feet and finally getting enough airspeed to pull away from the mountain I relaxed some. Whoa, that was close, but we still weren't safely across the finish line.
I had a split decision now. I could turn up the valley and try to make some nice flat tundra off in the distance. If I could make the tundra that would be very nice. But, before I got there I would have to cross some tall trees and a cliff. I wasn't sure if I could glide that far and terminating in the trees and cliff could easily be catastrophic. The other choice was turning down canyon. From my altitude it looked like I had a choice of a multitude of gravel bars with no tall trees or cliffs. This choice had a slight four knot tail wind. It is almost always better to land into the wind, but as inviting as the tundra seemed if I could make it the gravel bars seemed like the more conservative course to take. So I chose it.
After making this decision I checked all of my flight instruments. My engine had not completely failed. I apparently had a low side governor failure. I next rolled my throttle completely on hoping my engine would recover. It did not. I should have then closed my throttle completely and turned my fuel switch off, but through hangar flying I had a small amount of poison introduced into my thinking. Normally hangar flying is beneficial, but in this case a buddy told me about a friend of his that had an engine failure and after the crash they put the aircraft engine on a testbed and could find nothing wrong with it. So, they accused my friend's friend of rolling his own throttle off. So stupidly I decided to leave my throttle full on. I told myself that no one will accuse me of rolling my own throttle off. I also told myself that having been a military instructor pilot I had done many practice autorotations and this would simply be like one of those.
Also a little pride kicked in. I had been trained well and considered myself to be a good pilot. I thought of calling my boss after a successful termination and teasing him about needing a new engine if I did a good job on setting this bird down without power.
This period of time was like the eye of the storm. A hurricane hits with a lot of violence. If the eye of the storm passes over you it becomes peaceful, but another wallop is soon to follow.
As I got closer to what I thought were gravel bars from three thousand feet above I realized they were not gravel bars but bolder bars. Before I touched down I told myself that I was going to need more than a new engine landing to this mess. I knew I was going to take damage. I just didn't know how much.
At fifty feet I decelerated my aircraft to lose forward airspeed. At ten to fifteen feet I applied some cushioning collective pitch, then just prior to touch down I applied the remainder of my collective pitch to effect a soft touchdown. And we did touchdown soft and pretty right on top of two large boulders. Good job Robert! Pride well deserved! (Don't you know pride comes before a fall)
The top of the two boulders were not sufficient enough to support the helicopter, so it rocked back and the tail rotor struck the ground. All was quiet though. I thought it was over. We had safely crossed the finish line.
I could tell Sadie was concerned. She had never experienced a landing like this. After everything came to rest I released all the controls and turned to Sadie to tell her everything was going to be alright.
I got "Sadie, everything is going to..." out of my mouth when because of the slight jarring of the tail rotor striking the ground and the large collective pitch increase which tells the governor that the engine needs more fuel what ever had malfunctioned decided to right itself. A ton of fuel got shot to my helicopter's engine with my collective pitch full up.
You can find a debate among helicopter pilots about what to do with the throttle in the situation I faced. Some say leave it full on to get a little assistance at the bottom. All the Army manuals say close the throttle completely and turn off the main fuel prior to touchdown. If I had followed those manuals I would have had a head swollen with pride from the excellent job I had done setting that disabled helicopter down. I learned the hard way why they say to shut everything down.
When my engine received that full shot of fuel we ended up back in the air swapping ends as fast as the rotor blades turn. We were spinning so fast that outside was not a blur, it was just one solid color. My head was shaking so violently I thought it could literally shake off of my body. If I had not let go of my controls to tell Sadie everything was going to be alright, I would have immediately closed my throttle. As it was centrifugal force would not allow me to get back to the controls.
These thoughts went through my head, I thought of calling my boss previously and teasing him after doing a good job, now I wondered if I would get to call him, then I wondered if I would get to call anybody. Then the realization hit me that this was going to kill us, it was really going to kill us. When that thought hit me, I shouted as loud as I could, "God I want to live!".
The quiet was instantaneous. I had to look down at myself to check that I was still alive. When I realized I was I asked my passengers if they were okay. They both said they were. I then said, "well lets get out of this thing".
There was a small engine fire. I got the aircraft's fire extinguisher and put the fire out. Everything that was loose in the helicopter was scattered all over the boulder bar. Papers were everywhere and Sadie Dog was gone! I spent the next forty-five minutes looking for her. She was nowhere to be found.
The helicopter had come to rest in the small stream bed that ran through the valley. The skids were knocked off and the clam-shell that housed the engine was caved in from striking a large boulder that shut the engine off at the moment I shouted, "God I want to live!" It was easily a 50/50 chance that my head would have struck that boulder. I asked the instrument man to help me tilt the helicopter up so that Molly could look underneath it for Sadie Dog. Before we did, she asked me if I really wanted to know. I told her I have to know one way or another.
Sadie was not under the helicopter. I didn't know what else to do as far as looking for her, so I got the ELT (Emergency Locator Transmitter) out of the helicopter and decided to climb the mountain with it so the signal could get out better and rescue could find us.
A quarter of the way up the mountain I stopped to look around. About a quarter of a mile away from the crash site I spied a little black and white thing running as fast as she could back to the crash. Sadie had evidently been tossed out of the helicopter during its death spin and hit the ground running. I shouted, "Sadie! Hey Sadie!" She heard me and stopped to look in my direction. When she saw me a huge wiggle went through her whole body, then she cut a beeline for me. But, she only ran about twenty feet when she stopped again to make a double-take and see if it was really me. When she saw me the second time another huge wiggle went through her whole body and then she started running toward me again.
She didn't stop until she got to me. When she did she whimpered, "Uhmm, Uhmm, Uhmm." I said, "Yea baby that was bad". But I had tears of joy running down my check having been reunited with my dog. We climbed the mountain together and set the ELT down on top. Then we headed back down to the crash site. When we got within twenty feet of the helicopter she whimpered again. When a rescue helicopter showed up to pick us up, she didn't much want to get on board, but she did. She was still a great traveler and a great companion dog.
I sure miss you Sadie... we had quite the time!
SurvivalDog out...ciao
Friday, October 1, 2010
The Gauntlet
CAUTION: Some of the content of this tale may be disturbing for the squeamish.
The capture was easy and non eventful. Delta was not alone. Many of his fellow cohorts in crime were also with him. They didn’t consider themselves criminals, but they were finally captured after a long escape and evasion ordeal. Delta wasn’t his real name. It was simply the military phonetic alphabet designation for the initial of his first name. It was unknown what the future now held. No one had ever revealed any details about what was in store for those who were captured. The captors seemed pleasant enough though. Perhaps things would not be too bad.
The small caravan of military jeeps transporting the prisoners approached a fenced compound. The fence was every bit of eight feet tall topped with high security concertina wire. Big men in combat fatigues stood along the outside of the compound’s front fence watching the approach of the military jeeps. As the jeeps slowed the military men rapidly approached the jeeps without waiting for them to completely stop. Methodically they pulled prisoners from the back of the jeeps and threw them to the ground.
Delta attempted to stand after hitting the ground. One of the goons that had previously pulled him from the back of the jeep quickly shoved him back to the dirt. Delta attempted to look around to survey what was going on with everyone. The goon obviously in charge of Delta gave him a firm kick followed with a stern command, “Put your head down PIG. You don’t deserve to look around. Keep your head down and don’t look around!” Delta acquiesced. He didn’t know what else to do. His mental state was still intact even though nothing that had occurred had been expected. So far the treatment did not seem too extreme. The goons herded the men now crawling on their hands and knees toward the front gate of the compound. Repeated commands to get your head down PIG! Stay down PIG! You don’t deserve to walk or look around. You are the scum of the earth! Continued to ring out.
As the men got close to the front gate they were herded close up against each other uncomfortably invading each others personal space. Near the gate there was a wall of empty and dirty sandbags hanging on hooks. The prisoners were ordered to disrobe down to their briefs and place all of their possessions including their clothes into a dirty sandbag. After disrobing the men were forced up tight against each other still on their hands and knees in the line to enter the front gate. Delta could feel himself enter a condition of slight mental shock as he was forced to uncomfortably violate the personal space of the man in front of him and likewise had his personal space violated from behind. He had thought they would have been treated more humanly. After all his captors were his fellow citizens. It wasn’t like he was in a foreign land. The shock from his mental distress caused by the abuse he and his compatriots experienced was real though. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it could get.
Once inside the compound with the front gate now securely closed the men were allowed to stand and increase their distance from one another. The night was cold though and all of them were uncomfortably clothed only in their briefs. They were now allowed to stand and be processed. One of the prisoners made a smart remark. Immediately all of them were ordered to drop and knock out a hundred pushups. Many in macho form knocked out the pushups effortlessly and quickly. Some struggled. The order for pushups continued with each infraction. Slowly men dropped the macho display and soon all struggled with apparent effort except for one man who continued his prideful macho display of strength longer than anyone. It was apparent he was not going to allow himself to be easily broken. Delta wasn’t that man. He was has healthy and stout as any of them, but he quickly realized early on that it was a fruitless gesture. So, he conserved his strength acting as if it took extreme effort to accomplish any pushups. These PIGS that called him a PIG did not deserve his best efforts.
Everyone was assigned various work details consisting of some kind of menial labor within the compound. These tasks too were met with apparent incompetent effort where the men performed only to the extent required to keep attention from being focused on them. Slowly individual men were separated out and directed to one of two different buildings.
In one building Delta was greeted by a kind man that offered him a cigarette. There was an assortment of magazines on a nearby table Delta recognized as totally opposed to his worldview. So, was this to be a reeducation camp? The man told Delta that if he agreed to cooperate and join their side things would go easier on him. Delta engaged the man in conversation slowing picking out different magazines and asking questions about what it meant to be on their side. Delta was given a form to sign. Slowing he read the form quietly enjoying his escape from the cold night air and menial labor duties inside the comfortable interior of the soft cell building. The form required a confession stating he was guilty of being an enemy of the state. Delta drug his feet as long as he could and finally coldly looked the man in the eyes when he knew he could stretch his brief reprieve from the chilly night air no longer stating, “This isn’t me! I’m not signing anything and I don’t have anything to tell you.”
The man simply smiled back at Delta saying, “have it your way”. There was something nefarious about the smirk the man then gave Delta as he waved his hand in a manner that was obviously a signal which was soon followed by two of the goons from the front gate appearing from the shadows to escort Delta to the other building.
The other building was stark, cold, and dark compared to the building with the apparent kind man and magazines. Once inside the new building one of the goons opened the lid to a small wooden box barely large enough to contain a man all scrunched up on hands and knees. The goons then shoved Delta into the box and closed the lid. The bottom was sand and small gravel grit. A few unknown bugs could be felt crawling around. Delta made himself as comfortable as possible and attempted to take a nap. There was nothing he could do about the bugs or grit, so he decided to make the best of his current situation. Delta was grateful that neither bugs nor claustrophobia were things that disturbed him, otherwise the box could have been a small living hell.
Delta was only allowed to remain in the box for approximately twenty minutes before the lid opened and one of the goons interrupting his nap said, “Okay scum bag, time for more fun and games! Come on out of there.” Delta was then forced to sit in some type of chair that could recline back and had security straps on the arms. The goons strapped him in place and then wrapped his head in a large towel. Then the goons lit some type of pipe and began blowing smoke all up into the towel. If it was pot Delta could have easily gotten high, but it was only some nasty brand of tobacco fortunately not near as bad as Picayune Cigarettes native to his south Louisiana home. Delta easily handled the barrage of smoke.
Next two large goons took up positions on either side of Delta with one standing behind him at his head. A couple of others formed a line to a set of five gallon buckets lined up along one of the walls of the shack. The goons adjusted the chair back so that Delta was now in a reclined position. Then one of the goons took the towel and placed it into one of the nearby buckets full of water fully saturating the towel. The towel was then stretched taunt over Delta’s face as one of the five gallon buckets full of water was handed to the man behind Delta. A slow steady stream of water was then poured onto the towel covering Delta’s mouth and nose.
Once long ago when Delta was young he had been forcefully held underwater while swimming with an older man. Delta soon began to kick and struggle as he thought the older man would not bring him to the surface for air. The man held him down longer causing Delta to experience the very real panic that comes from the fear of drowning. Eventually the man did allow Delta to come up grasping for the precious air that allows all of us to experience the gift of life.
He was not held underwater now, but it felt exactly the same as a steady stream of water was kept pouring over the towel stretched taunt against his face. Delta held his breath unable to breath and trying not to inhale any water, but the goons had more than enough buckets full of water replacing an empty one with a full one when necessary to easily outlast him. Would he panic or simply pass out from the lack of oxygen? Not very many can simply pass out. The fear of drowning is too great of a threat to take calmly. As Delta’s oxygen levels depleted and his carbon dioxide levels stimulating his desire to breath built up, Delta could feel the urge to panic rise uncontrollably. He fought it hopelessly and soon gave in to full fledged panic kicking, fighting, and struggling against the restraints and the goons holding him in place. They continued the steady stream over the taunt towel heightening Delta’s panic. They wanted him fully ready to cooperate with them when they finally would decide to turn off the water. Death actually comes easy when one drowns. It is the ungodly panic that precedes it that is so awful. The men were quite experienced and knew just how far they could push it getting maximum results. Delta didn’t know what this technique was called other than drowning someone out of the water, but the perpetrators were complete experts at what was known as water boarding someone to extract information. It was debatable as to whether or not it was really torture. If it was torture, it was very humane in that the subject suffered no real physical harm other than the mental anguish of panic that involves the sensation of being drowned. Once the water flow stopped and the towel was removed whether the victim was passed out or still struggling, life giving oxygen would quickly return and all would be well in the world except for the mental anguish of having been nearly drowned. There would be no lasting physical harm and the mental anguish would soon vanish also leaving no lasting effects. If the person didn’t talk, the process would be repeated. Most would say anything to keep that from happening again. Delta was no exception.
“Wha, what do you want to know? What do you want to know?” Delta shouted as he grasped for air. The goons laughed.
“It is not what we want to know, but what we want you to know.” one of the meanest looking goons whispered to Delta.
“What’s that?” Delta asked with eyes wide in fright.
“Everyone breaks. It is just a matter of how long before it happens and how.” The man smiled. “You’re free to go and join your buddies now”.
The reality of what was going on and where Delta really was soon returned. It wasn’t a bad dream or a real drowning situation. The night was one of the longest he could remember ever enduring, but the sun eventually rose ushering in a new day. When the sun did rise, so was the American flag raised over the compound followed with the star spangled banner playing over the compound’s loudspeakers.
The mock POW camp was the final phase of Army Flight School just prior to the award of Army Aviator Wings followed by the commissioning of the Warrant Officer Candidates into full fledged Warrant Officers fully ready for duty as combat helicopter pilots who could be shot down, easily captured if they survived and become real prisoners held captive by a truly hostile force. Every one of them would now have some idea of what they might face should that dreaded event ever become a reality. One thing was known for sure though, any future captivity was unlikely to be near as humane as what they had all just experienced. Regardless the future looked bright. Not just anyone could experience the sheer freedom and thrill of helicopter flight not just as a passenger, but as the one who commanded the controls invoking the aircraft to carry out their every desire.
Ciao!
The capture was easy and non eventful. Delta was not alone. Many of his fellow cohorts in crime were also with him. They didn’t consider themselves criminals, but they were finally captured after a long escape and evasion ordeal. Delta wasn’t his real name. It was simply the military phonetic alphabet designation for the initial of his first name. It was unknown what the future now held. No one had ever revealed any details about what was in store for those who were captured. The captors seemed pleasant enough though. Perhaps things would not be too bad.
The small caravan of military jeeps transporting the prisoners approached a fenced compound. The fence was every bit of eight feet tall topped with high security concertina wire. Big men in combat fatigues stood along the outside of the compound’s front fence watching the approach of the military jeeps. As the jeeps slowed the military men rapidly approached the jeeps without waiting for them to completely stop. Methodically they pulled prisoners from the back of the jeeps and threw them to the ground.
Delta attempted to stand after hitting the ground. One of the goons that had previously pulled him from the back of the jeep quickly shoved him back to the dirt. Delta attempted to look around to survey what was going on with everyone. The goon obviously in charge of Delta gave him a firm kick followed with a stern command, “Put your head down PIG. You don’t deserve to look around. Keep your head down and don’t look around!” Delta acquiesced. He didn’t know what else to do. His mental state was still intact even though nothing that had occurred had been expected. So far the treatment did not seem too extreme. The goons herded the men now crawling on their hands and knees toward the front gate of the compound. Repeated commands to get your head down PIG! Stay down PIG! You don’t deserve to walk or look around. You are the scum of the earth! Continued to ring out.
As the men got close to the front gate they were herded close up against each other uncomfortably invading each others personal space. Near the gate there was a wall of empty and dirty sandbags hanging on hooks. The prisoners were ordered to disrobe down to their briefs and place all of their possessions including their clothes into a dirty sandbag. After disrobing the men were forced up tight against each other still on their hands and knees in the line to enter the front gate. Delta could feel himself enter a condition of slight mental shock as he was forced to uncomfortably violate the personal space of the man in front of him and likewise had his personal space violated from behind. He had thought they would have been treated more humanly. After all his captors were his fellow citizens. It wasn’t like he was in a foreign land. The shock from his mental distress caused by the abuse he and his compatriots experienced was real though. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it could get.
Once inside the compound with the front gate now securely closed the men were allowed to stand and increase their distance from one another. The night was cold though and all of them were uncomfortably clothed only in their briefs. They were now allowed to stand and be processed. One of the prisoners made a smart remark. Immediately all of them were ordered to drop and knock out a hundred pushups. Many in macho form knocked out the pushups effortlessly and quickly. Some struggled. The order for pushups continued with each infraction. Slowly men dropped the macho display and soon all struggled with apparent effort except for one man who continued his prideful macho display of strength longer than anyone. It was apparent he was not going to allow himself to be easily broken. Delta wasn’t that man. He was has healthy and stout as any of them, but he quickly realized early on that it was a fruitless gesture. So, he conserved his strength acting as if it took extreme effort to accomplish any pushups. These PIGS that called him a PIG did not deserve his best efforts.
Everyone was assigned various work details consisting of some kind of menial labor within the compound. These tasks too were met with apparent incompetent effort where the men performed only to the extent required to keep attention from being focused on them. Slowly individual men were separated out and directed to one of two different buildings.
In one building Delta was greeted by a kind man that offered him a cigarette. There was an assortment of magazines on a nearby table Delta recognized as totally opposed to his worldview. So, was this to be a reeducation camp? The man told Delta that if he agreed to cooperate and join their side things would go easier on him. Delta engaged the man in conversation slowing picking out different magazines and asking questions about what it meant to be on their side. Delta was given a form to sign. Slowing he read the form quietly enjoying his escape from the cold night air and menial labor duties inside the comfortable interior of the soft cell building. The form required a confession stating he was guilty of being an enemy of the state. Delta drug his feet as long as he could and finally coldly looked the man in the eyes when he knew he could stretch his brief reprieve from the chilly night air no longer stating, “This isn’t me! I’m not signing anything and I don’t have anything to tell you.”
The man simply smiled back at Delta saying, “have it your way”. There was something nefarious about the smirk the man then gave Delta as he waved his hand in a manner that was obviously a signal which was soon followed by two of the goons from the front gate appearing from the shadows to escort Delta to the other building.
The other building was stark, cold, and dark compared to the building with the apparent kind man and magazines. Once inside the new building one of the goons opened the lid to a small wooden box barely large enough to contain a man all scrunched up on hands and knees. The goons then shoved Delta into the box and closed the lid. The bottom was sand and small gravel grit. A few unknown bugs could be felt crawling around. Delta made himself as comfortable as possible and attempted to take a nap. There was nothing he could do about the bugs or grit, so he decided to make the best of his current situation. Delta was grateful that neither bugs nor claustrophobia were things that disturbed him, otherwise the box could have been a small living hell.
Delta was only allowed to remain in the box for approximately twenty minutes before the lid opened and one of the goons interrupting his nap said, “Okay scum bag, time for more fun and games! Come on out of there.” Delta was then forced to sit in some type of chair that could recline back and had security straps on the arms. The goons strapped him in place and then wrapped his head in a large towel. Then the goons lit some type of pipe and began blowing smoke all up into the towel. If it was pot Delta could have easily gotten high, but it was only some nasty brand of tobacco fortunately not near as bad as Picayune Cigarettes native to his south Louisiana home. Delta easily handled the barrage of smoke.
Next two large goons took up positions on either side of Delta with one standing behind him at his head. A couple of others formed a line to a set of five gallon buckets lined up along one of the walls of the shack. The goons adjusted the chair back so that Delta was now in a reclined position. Then one of the goons took the towel and placed it into one of the nearby buckets full of water fully saturating the towel. The towel was then stretched taunt over Delta’s face as one of the five gallon buckets full of water was handed to the man behind Delta. A slow steady stream of water was then poured onto the towel covering Delta’s mouth and nose.
Once long ago when Delta was young he had been forcefully held underwater while swimming with an older man. Delta soon began to kick and struggle as he thought the older man would not bring him to the surface for air. The man held him down longer causing Delta to experience the very real panic that comes from the fear of drowning. Eventually the man did allow Delta to come up grasping for the precious air that allows all of us to experience the gift of life.
He was not held underwater now, but it felt exactly the same as a steady stream of water was kept pouring over the towel stretched taunt against his face. Delta held his breath unable to breath and trying not to inhale any water, but the goons had more than enough buckets full of water replacing an empty one with a full one when necessary to easily outlast him. Would he panic or simply pass out from the lack of oxygen? Not very many can simply pass out. The fear of drowning is too great of a threat to take calmly. As Delta’s oxygen levels depleted and his carbon dioxide levels stimulating his desire to breath built up, Delta could feel the urge to panic rise uncontrollably. He fought it hopelessly and soon gave in to full fledged panic kicking, fighting, and struggling against the restraints and the goons holding him in place. They continued the steady stream over the taunt towel heightening Delta’s panic. They wanted him fully ready to cooperate with them when they finally would decide to turn off the water. Death actually comes easy when one drowns. It is the ungodly panic that precedes it that is so awful. The men were quite experienced and knew just how far they could push it getting maximum results. Delta didn’t know what this technique was called other than drowning someone out of the water, but the perpetrators were complete experts at what was known as water boarding someone to extract information. It was debatable as to whether or not it was really torture. If it was torture, it was very humane in that the subject suffered no real physical harm other than the mental anguish of panic that involves the sensation of being drowned. Once the water flow stopped and the towel was removed whether the victim was passed out or still struggling, life giving oxygen would quickly return and all would be well in the world except for the mental anguish of having been nearly drowned. There would be no lasting physical harm and the mental anguish would soon vanish also leaving no lasting effects. If the person didn’t talk, the process would be repeated. Most would say anything to keep that from happening again. Delta was no exception.
“Wha, what do you want to know? What do you want to know?” Delta shouted as he grasped for air. The goons laughed.
“It is not what we want to know, but what we want you to know.” one of the meanest looking goons whispered to Delta.
“What’s that?” Delta asked with eyes wide in fright.
“Everyone breaks. It is just a matter of how long before it happens and how.” The man smiled. “You’re free to go and join your buddies now”.
The reality of what was going on and where Delta really was soon returned. It wasn’t a bad dream or a real drowning situation. The night was one of the longest he could remember ever enduring, but the sun eventually rose ushering in a new day. When the sun did rise, so was the American flag raised over the compound followed with the star spangled banner playing over the compound’s loudspeakers.
The mock POW camp was the final phase of Army Flight School just prior to the award of Army Aviator Wings followed by the commissioning of the Warrant Officer Candidates into full fledged Warrant Officers fully ready for duty as combat helicopter pilots who could be shot down, easily captured if they survived and become real prisoners held captive by a truly hostile force. Every one of them would now have some idea of what they might face should that dreaded event ever become a reality. One thing was known for sure though, any future captivity was unlikely to be near as humane as what they had all just experienced. Regardless the future looked bright. Not just anyone could experience the sheer freedom and thrill of helicopter flight not just as a passenger, but as the one who commanded the controls invoking the aircraft to carry out their every desire.
Ciao!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
My Private Tall Tales
I still have plenty of Tall Tales to write, but some of them I am not so comfortable sharing with the public at large.
So, I've just opened "My Private Tall Tales" which is restricted to those I personally invite.
If you know me and have not received an invite, feel free to send me an email.
Here is the link for easy access for those invited: My Private Tall Tales
You will be required to sign in to gain access to these Private Tall Tales... Sorry. It should all be Kosher on Blogger.
Hopefully these will be as entertaining and enjoyable as the ones I have already posted.
So, I've just opened "My Private Tall Tales" which is restricted to those I personally invite.
If you know me and have not received an invite, feel free to send me an email.
Here is the link for easy access for those invited: My Private Tall Tales
You will be required to sign in to gain access to these Private Tall Tales... Sorry. It should all be Kosher on Blogger.
Hopefully these will be as entertaining and enjoyable as the ones I have already posted.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
A Cause of Strife
It seems like yesterday, but it was years ago during the 1990's that we lived in a house trailer that had defective plumbing. The pipes under the trailer were easily prone to spring leaks. I was capable of fixing the leaks, but needless to say it was almost always a hassle to climb underneath and tackle the task.
Once we had a leak that coincided with my work schedule preventing me from getting to its repair as quickly as I would have liked. This was a leak we could live with until I managed to get a round to it. However, my wife trying to be helpful contacted a neighbor without telling me and arranged for him to repair my leak. When I arrived home from work she told me what she had done.
This flew all over me. I am not opposed to accepting help when I really need it, but if it is something that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself; I feel like I am abusing my friendship if I impose on someone else to take care of it out of charity without pay. That is exactly what my wife arranged. My friend and neighbor had not done the repair yet, but he was scheduled. This put me into a sour mood.
My wife likes for me to put on a facade as if all is okay when it is not. My personality rarely if ever allows me to do that. I needed to rest for my next shift that required a fresh pilot instead of tackling the leak before I was ready which would most likely be during my days off. So, I headed to our bedroom to chill out alone. I laid on my bed and prayed and stewed trying to figure out how I could resolve this situation my wife presumptuously caused thinking she was helping me by imposing on my neighbor. I also was interested in why this little seemingly innocent incident had placed me into such a sour mood.
My wife looked at me in disgust and told me I should get over it, but I was covered in a foul mood that I could not shake.
Finally I picked up my Bible and opened it to read hoping I could find some relief. It opened to Proverbs chapter 13 where my eyes were drawn to verse 10 and I read: "Through presumption comes nothing but strife, But with those who receive counsel is wisdom." Wow! right before my eyes God clearly showed me the dynamics behind the sour mood I had found myself in.
My dictionary defines strife as a noun whose meaning is: angry or bitter disagreement over fundamental issues; conflict.
My sour mood definitely involved strife over what my wife had done though she was only innocently attempting to be helpful.
My dictionary also defines presumption as a noun. It has several more definitions than strife among one is: "• an idea that is taken to be true, and often used as the basis for other ideas, although it is not known for certain"
My wife recognized that our plumbing needed fixing although it was minor in this case since the leak had not completely shutdown our ability to use the system. She also recognized that I was busy and couldn't get to the problem until my off shift. This situation also gave her the idea that getting someone else to fix the problem would be beneficial and helpful to me. Of course she presumed this since it was not known for certain since she had not run it by me prior to setting the steps of acquiring help from someone else in place.
Interestingly my dictionary also defines presumption as: "2 behavior perceived as arrogant, disrespectful, and transgressing the limits of what is permitted or appropriate". As mentioned above I am not opposed to receiving help when it is truly necessary, but I was somewhat perturbed at imposing upon a neighbor to do something I was fully capable of doing myself. If only my wife had counseled with me prior to setting her plan in motion my sense of umbrage would not have been piqued.
Now that proverbs 13:10 revealed to me what had happened helping me to understand my dour feelings, a much better mood came upon me and I was able to call my neighbor and tell him though I appreciated his willingness to help this was a job that I could easily do myself once I got around to it. I was also able to share with my wife the dynamics behind what had confronted us and what I clearly now saw was behind my sour mood.
God is so amazing!
BOOM! I shared this little tale most recently at a small bible study I attend. Then we went looking for the particular scripture involved. It could not be found. In Promise Keepers & a lesson learned we found what a difference a translation may make. Though I favor the NASB, I sometimes read different translations just to see if God might have something new to show me. I personally believe if your heart is sincere God will use whatever translation is available to you, though I have found both strengths and weaknesses in different translations. It would be nice to know Greek and Hebrew, but I don't.
I am currently reading the "New Living Translation" which renders Proverbs 13:10 as "Pride leads to conflict; those who take advice are wise." Not quite the dynamics of what I felt I had experienced. When I got home I checked my current NASB "Through insolence comes nothing but strife, But wisdom is with those who receive counsel." Hmmm? Again not quite what I remember. A look at the definition of insolence lead to impertinence which had the word meddlesome and presumptuous. Getting close, but it didn't relay it quite like I remember. Next I pulled out my New King James version where I found: "By pride comes nothing but strife, But with the well-advised is wisdom." Okay, I give up! But wait; not so easy...
When someone tells me of something they have read in the bible and my mind tells me I have never seen that; I ask them to personally show me. I may consider them a very reliable source, but from experience I know I may end up looking for something for ever that is not there. Have you ever looked for "Spare the rod and spoil the child"? Or looked for where Paul fell off a horse on his journey to Damascus? If you find any of those, please send me a message with scripture and verse and also what translation so I can see for myself. When I see it in print for myself, my brain registers yep, there it is! It really does exist, and it seems to file this knowledge away with confidence for what has been stated.
Did my memory fail me? I underline verses that stand out to me as I read. I call this getting your bible trained where you can easily find a verse in question so you can show someone else when needed. I also tend to give away my trained bibles when I encounter someone in need of a book. My very first bible was given to a couple of hitchhikers I had given a ride to long ago. I think I gave the one with the scripture in question to a man that had accosted me on the street who I got to share the Lord with. And, if I find I'm constantly reading stuff all underlined I get a feeling I'm not finding anything new, so I often then purchase myself a new book and begin underlining and training the new book all over again. It keeps my reading fresh. If you read the Lockman Foundations principals of translation found in the front of a NASB I believe you will find they use good logic as I have found. However, they have made some improvements in more current editions. Some I agree with and some I don't.
I recently purchased a reference NASB that is retro to one I had given away in the past. I pulled it out to look for the mystery verse. There it was just as I had originally read it: "Through presumption comes nothing but strife, But with those who receive counsel is wisdom." How amazing is that! God had provided me with the exact translation I needed when I needed it to show me what I was dealing with and provided me with the understanding I might not have received if I had any other translation available at the time.
"Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows."
Luke 12:7
A personal relationship with Jesus has revealed to me way more than once His power and the reality of His existence! Thank You Lord!
Ciao!
Once we had a leak that coincided with my work schedule preventing me from getting to its repair as quickly as I would have liked. This was a leak we could live with until I managed to get a round to it. However, my wife trying to be helpful contacted a neighbor without telling me and arranged for him to repair my leak. When I arrived home from work she told me what she had done.
This flew all over me. I am not opposed to accepting help when I really need it, but if it is something that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself; I feel like I am abusing my friendship if I impose on someone else to take care of it out of charity without pay. That is exactly what my wife arranged. My friend and neighbor had not done the repair yet, but he was scheduled. This put me into a sour mood.
My wife likes for me to put on a facade as if all is okay when it is not. My personality rarely if ever allows me to do that. I needed to rest for my next shift that required a fresh pilot instead of tackling the leak before I was ready which would most likely be during my days off. So, I headed to our bedroom to chill out alone. I laid on my bed and prayed and stewed trying to figure out how I could resolve this situation my wife presumptuously caused thinking she was helping me by imposing on my neighbor. I also was interested in why this little seemingly innocent incident had placed me into such a sour mood.
My wife looked at me in disgust and told me I should get over it, but I was covered in a foul mood that I could not shake.
Finally I picked up my Bible and opened it to read hoping I could find some relief. It opened to Proverbs chapter 13 where my eyes were drawn to verse 10 and I read: "Through presumption comes nothing but strife, But with those who receive counsel is wisdom." Wow! right before my eyes God clearly showed me the dynamics behind the sour mood I had found myself in.
My dictionary defines strife as a noun whose meaning is: angry or bitter disagreement over fundamental issues; conflict.
My sour mood definitely involved strife over what my wife had done though she was only innocently attempting to be helpful.
My dictionary also defines presumption as a noun. It has several more definitions than strife among one is: "• an idea that is taken to be true, and often used as the basis for other ideas, although it is not known for certain"
My wife recognized that our plumbing needed fixing although it was minor in this case since the leak had not completely shutdown our ability to use the system. She also recognized that I was busy and couldn't get to the problem until my off shift. This situation also gave her the idea that getting someone else to fix the problem would be beneficial and helpful to me. Of course she presumed this since it was not known for certain since she had not run it by me prior to setting the steps of acquiring help from someone else in place.
Interestingly my dictionary also defines presumption as: "2 behavior perceived as arrogant, disrespectful, and transgressing the limits of what is permitted or appropriate". As mentioned above I am not opposed to receiving help when it is truly necessary, but I was somewhat perturbed at imposing upon a neighbor to do something I was fully capable of doing myself. If only my wife had counseled with me prior to setting her plan in motion my sense of umbrage would not have been piqued.
Now that proverbs 13:10 revealed to me what had happened helping me to understand my dour feelings, a much better mood came upon me and I was able to call my neighbor and tell him though I appreciated his willingness to help this was a job that I could easily do myself once I got around to it. I was also able to share with my wife the dynamics behind what had confronted us and what I clearly now saw was behind my sour mood.
God is so amazing!
BOOM! I shared this little tale most recently at a small bible study I attend. Then we went looking for the particular scripture involved. It could not be found. In Promise Keepers & a lesson learned we found what a difference a translation may make. Though I favor the NASB, I sometimes read different translations just to see if God might have something new to show me. I personally believe if your heart is sincere God will use whatever translation is available to you, though I have found both strengths and weaknesses in different translations. It would be nice to know Greek and Hebrew, but I don't.
I am currently reading the "New Living Translation" which renders Proverbs 13:10 as "Pride leads to conflict; those who take advice are wise." Not quite the dynamics of what I felt I had experienced. When I got home I checked my current NASB "Through insolence comes nothing but strife, But wisdom is with those who receive counsel." Hmmm? Again not quite what I remember. A look at the definition of insolence lead to impertinence which had the word meddlesome and presumptuous. Getting close, but it didn't relay it quite like I remember. Next I pulled out my New King James version where I found: "By pride comes nothing but strife, But with the well-advised is wisdom." Okay, I give up! But wait; not so easy...
When someone tells me of something they have read in the bible and my mind tells me I have never seen that; I ask them to personally show me. I may consider them a very reliable source, but from experience I know I may end up looking for something for ever that is not there. Have you ever looked for "Spare the rod and spoil the child"? Or looked for where Paul fell off a horse on his journey to Damascus? If you find any of those, please send me a message with scripture and verse and also what translation so I can see for myself. When I see it in print for myself, my brain registers yep, there it is! It really does exist, and it seems to file this knowledge away with confidence for what has been stated.
Did my memory fail me? I underline verses that stand out to me as I read. I call this getting your bible trained where you can easily find a verse in question so you can show someone else when needed. I also tend to give away my trained bibles when I encounter someone in need of a book. My very first bible was given to a couple of hitchhikers I had given a ride to long ago. I think I gave the one with the scripture in question to a man that had accosted me on the street who I got to share the Lord with. And, if I find I'm constantly reading stuff all underlined I get a feeling I'm not finding anything new, so I often then purchase myself a new book and begin underlining and training the new book all over again. It keeps my reading fresh. If you read the Lockman Foundations principals of translation found in the front of a NASB I believe you will find they use good logic as I have found. However, they have made some improvements in more current editions. Some I agree with and some I don't.
I recently purchased a reference NASB that is retro to one I had given away in the past. I pulled it out to look for the mystery verse. There it was just as I had originally read it: "Through presumption comes nothing but strife, But with those who receive counsel is wisdom." How amazing is that! God had provided me with the exact translation I needed when I needed it to show me what I was dealing with and provided me with the understanding I might not have received if I had any other translation available at the time.
"Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows."
Luke 12:7
A personal relationship with Jesus has revealed to me way more than once His power and the reality of His existence! Thank You Lord!
Ciao!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Promise Keepers & a lesson learned
It has been a little while since I've written a tall tale. I awoke about an hour skyscrapers ago to the sound of my wife suctioning my handicapped son's trach. I now find sleep eluding me. I keep the radio on Music Thru The Night so that there is something worthwhile to listen to should I awake between midnight and 5am. Mike Kellogg told the brief tale of Jackie Robinson the first black Major League Baseball player. Mike said Jackie was not given a warm reception by the white fans, and during one of the games he committed an error that drew the ire of the fans. Jackie stood near second base listening to the booing of the fans and contemplated quitting the major leagues when the shortstop approached him and placed his arm around Jackie's shoulders and faced the booing fans with him. The booing quit, but most notable was that Mike said Jackie considered quitting the major leagues until his fellow player offered his support against the booing fans. That story caused me to think of my "Promise Keepers" experience as well as some pretty top notch black men I have known in my life most notably a man I know only as Hatchet who is as honorable and good as any man I have known regardless of race. Hatchet is now deceased, but it has been my great privilege to have known him in this life and to have been introduced to horse back riding by him. He is one that you would want on your side and on your team. It is my great hope that I will see him again.
As I thought about the story Mike Kellogg told about Jackie on second base and the shortstop it stirred the memory of my Promise Keepers experience. I probably would have preferred to simply return to sleep, but sleep did not want to seem to easily return and when the creative juices for writing a Tall Tale strike they often do not return with the same fervor if at all when they are set aside for later, so I take the time to spin this Tall Tale now.
Promise Keepers first appeared on my radar through a Christian radio station in the very early 1990's. My wife and I both had an interest in my attending one of their events. I was working an EMS job on the old "Kelly Shift" cycle back then. The Kelly Shift consisted of a 9 day cycle consisting of 3 twenty four hour shifts during the first 5 days followed by 4 days off. The closest event was scheduled for Dallas Texas, but did not coincide with a date that matched my four days off. My wife and I were disappointed and hoped another one in a suitable location that matched my off days would eventually be scheduled.
Then an act of God occurred that caused the current Dallas event to be rescheduled to a time that perfectly matched my four days off. A hugh thunderstorm with strong winds blew down the stage for the first scheduled Dallas event causing it to be rescheduled inside a sports arena. To my knowledge no one was hurt and they simply suffered the inconvenience of having to reschedule to a time and date that was very convenient for me. I quickly bought two tickets. One for me and another for a black preacher I knew from South Louisiana.
My preacher friend was not able to attend, so I headed to Dallas alone with both tickets. I would spend two nights with a Christian couple that my wife made a missionary trip to China with before I knew her. I invited the man to attend with me offering him my spare ticket, which he declined. So, with excitement and anticipation I headed to the event unaccompanied the following morning.
While en route and listening to a local Dallas station they talked about the event and brought up the subject of parking along with a required parking fee. Uh oh! I heard warning bells go off in my head. Back in those days I never traveled with any cash carrying only a checkbook and a credit card. The radio didn't clearly alert listeners that only cash would be taken to pay the parking fee, but that eventuality felt strongly implied. I was optimistic though. I reasoned at best I could get them to take one of my checks and at worst I could quickly panhandle my second now unused and unneeded ticket.
When I arrived I patently waited my turn in the parking line for what was a huge mass of traffic. When my turn to pay came I explained my situation to the attendant accepting parking fees. He wasn't understanding or helpful at all with my cashless dilemma. He simply said, "You can probably go down town and find a place to cash your check and then come back." I simply said, "Okay" as I pulled out of my place in line.
I was somewhat offended yet still optimistic as I headed into downtown Dallas to attempt to cash an out of town check. After several failed attempts at different establishments my optimism faded and my sense of being offended greatly increased. I came within a hair's breadth of simply heading home and telling myself that all those people care about is money anyhow. Then I spied some tall skyscrapers about a mile's walking distance to the event. I set my face like flint and told myself that I would find an available empty and free parking spot near the skyscrapers since it was the weekend, and then I would make the mile long hike back to the Promise Keepers event and they would have to put up with my now disgruntled spirit.
I found my parking spot and my mood was quite sour as I began my long walk from my parking spot. As I got very close to the event I entered some kind of college campus just across the road from where I initially attempted to pay and park. On the college campus there were all kinds of open and shaded free parking spots within an easy walking distance if only a person could have known about them. I saw several college students sitting around watching the goings on. Then there was what appeared to be a lone student tossing a Frisbee for his dog in an open field I was crossing.
As I entered the Frisbee field with my face still set like flint and my spirit covered with the sour mood of my parking experience offense, the man looked up at me and asked, "Are you going over to that promise keepers event?"
I said in what I am sure was not a too pleasant tone, "yeah!"
He said kindly, "Well, I'll walk over there with you. If that's alright?"
His choosing to walk over there with me knocked all the crud that was covering me, from being offended by the promise keepers parking debacle to garner a little extra money, right off of me. I can only imagine what I experienced at that moment was similar to what Jackie Robinson felt years ago when the shortstop put his arm around him in solidarity thus changing Jackie's mind from quitting the major leagues. My sour spirit instantly changed to a more pleasant one now that I had someone to hang with who showed himself friendly.
I thoroughly enjoyed my two days at the Dallas Promise Keepers event. I rendezvoused with my new found friend the next day. I got to meet several of his other friends and we all got to share and witness to other men attending. Tony Evans even made an unscheduled brief appearance and almost took the roof off of the place. I wouldn't learn the significance of my being offended by their parking situation until I arrived home after my Promise Keepers trip was completed.
When I arrived home I gathered all my children together for a small bible reading in my bedroom. I opened my bible to Matthew chapter 24 and began reading. I was reading from the New King James version. The Bible the man gave me in this previous Tall Tale was a NASB. Historically I have favored the NASB translation, although I occasionally like to read a different translation. The very first time I ever opened my original NASB as a new bible reader it was to Matthew Chapter 24, so this chapter carries great meaning to me since I felt Jesus was personally talking to me about the things that would come upon the world. Every time I read verse 10 “At that time many will fall away and will betray one another and hate one another." I have always told myself, "That's not me. I'm not interested in falling away and betraying anyone. I want to be one who endures to the end."
This day while reading from the NKJ version to my children I reached verse 10 in the different translation which said, "And then shall many be offended, and shall betray one another, and shall hate one another." God hit me right between the eyes! "then shall many be offended" "shall hate one another". Wow! The memory of how the Promise Keepers parking fee offended me and the hatred I had felt came full circle. I heard God's still quiet voice say to me, "And look how easy it happened to you David!"
It was a great lesson for me. Little things that should be insignificant can often easily end up offending us stirring up strong emotions. I had personally experienced it at Promise Keepers. It can happen between spouses, friends, work acquaintances, and strangers. I am much more wary of this trick of the devil since my Promise Keepers experience and the NKJ translation. I hope this Tall Tale can also make you wary of this clever tactic of the enemy and help you also be one who endures to the end able to look with compassion on those who may unknowingly give offense.
The man that befriended me on the Frisbee field wasn't aware of what had just happened to me regarding parking, but God was and I have no doubt that He placed the man with the frisbee and dog there for me for such a time as this. Likewise I believe God had the shortstop there for Jackie Robinson when he needed him most. Thank you Mr. Kellogg for that story. Music thru the Night is almost over now, and I've added another Tall Tale to my collection that will hopefully be of benefit to some of you. I have company arriving later today, so hopefully now I can catch a little more sleep and this visit will also be in God's hand.
“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me; and I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of My hand." John 10:27,28
Ciao!
As I thought about the story Mike Kellogg told about Jackie on second base and the shortstop it stirred the memory of my Promise Keepers experience. I probably would have preferred to simply return to sleep, but sleep did not want to seem to easily return and when the creative juices for writing a Tall Tale strike they often do not return with the same fervor if at all when they are set aside for later, so I take the time to spin this Tall Tale now.
Promise Keepers first appeared on my radar through a Christian radio station in the very early 1990's. My wife and I both had an interest in my attending one of their events. I was working an EMS job on the old "Kelly Shift" cycle back then. The Kelly Shift consisted of a 9 day cycle consisting of 3 twenty four hour shifts during the first 5 days followed by 4 days off. The closest event was scheduled for Dallas Texas, but did not coincide with a date that matched my four days off. My wife and I were disappointed and hoped another one in a suitable location that matched my off days would eventually be scheduled.
Then an act of God occurred that caused the current Dallas event to be rescheduled to a time that perfectly matched my four days off. A hugh thunderstorm with strong winds blew down the stage for the first scheduled Dallas event causing it to be rescheduled inside a sports arena. To my knowledge no one was hurt and they simply suffered the inconvenience of having to reschedule to a time and date that was very convenient for me. I quickly bought two tickets. One for me and another for a black preacher I knew from South Louisiana.
My preacher friend was not able to attend, so I headed to Dallas alone with both tickets. I would spend two nights with a Christian couple that my wife made a missionary trip to China with before I knew her. I invited the man to attend with me offering him my spare ticket, which he declined. So, with excitement and anticipation I headed to the event unaccompanied the following morning.
While en route and listening to a local Dallas station they talked about the event and brought up the subject of parking along with a required parking fee. Uh oh! I heard warning bells go off in my head. Back in those days I never traveled with any cash carrying only a checkbook and a credit card. The radio didn't clearly alert listeners that only cash would be taken to pay the parking fee, but that eventuality felt strongly implied. I was optimistic though. I reasoned at best I could get them to take one of my checks and at worst I could quickly panhandle my second now unused and unneeded ticket.
When I arrived I patently waited my turn in the parking line for what was a huge mass of traffic. When my turn to pay came I explained my situation to the attendant accepting parking fees. He wasn't understanding or helpful at all with my cashless dilemma. He simply said, "You can probably go down town and find a place to cash your check and then come back." I simply said, "Okay" as I pulled out of my place in line.
I was somewhat offended yet still optimistic as I headed into downtown Dallas to attempt to cash an out of town check. After several failed attempts at different establishments my optimism faded and my sense of being offended greatly increased. I came within a hair's breadth of simply heading home and telling myself that all those people care about is money anyhow. Then I spied some tall skyscrapers about a mile's walking distance to the event. I set my face like flint and told myself that I would find an available empty and free parking spot near the skyscrapers since it was the weekend, and then I would make the mile long hike back to the Promise Keepers event and they would have to put up with my now disgruntled spirit.
I found my parking spot and my mood was quite sour as I began my long walk from my parking spot. As I got very close to the event I entered some kind of college campus just across the road from where I initially attempted to pay and park. On the college campus there were all kinds of open and shaded free parking spots within an easy walking distance if only a person could have known about them. I saw several college students sitting around watching the goings on. Then there was what appeared to be a lone student tossing a Frisbee for his dog in an open field I was crossing.
As I entered the Frisbee field with my face still set like flint and my spirit covered with the sour mood of my parking experience offense, the man looked up at me and asked, "Are you going over to that promise keepers event?"
I said in what I am sure was not a too pleasant tone, "yeah!"
He said kindly, "Well, I'll walk over there with you. If that's alright?"
His choosing to walk over there with me knocked all the crud that was covering me, from being offended by the promise keepers parking debacle to garner a little extra money, right off of me. I can only imagine what I experienced at that moment was similar to what Jackie Robinson felt years ago when the shortstop put his arm around him in solidarity thus changing Jackie's mind from quitting the major leagues. My sour spirit instantly changed to a more pleasant one now that I had someone to hang with who showed himself friendly.
I thoroughly enjoyed my two days at the Dallas Promise Keepers event. I rendezvoused with my new found friend the next day. I got to meet several of his other friends and we all got to share and witness to other men attending. Tony Evans even made an unscheduled brief appearance and almost took the roof off of the place. I wouldn't learn the significance of my being offended by their parking situation until I arrived home after my Promise Keepers trip was completed.
When I arrived home I gathered all my children together for a small bible reading in my bedroom. I opened my bible to Matthew chapter 24 and began reading. I was reading from the New King James version. The Bible the man gave me in this previous Tall Tale was a NASB. Historically I have favored the NASB translation, although I occasionally like to read a different translation. The very first time I ever opened my original NASB as a new bible reader it was to Matthew Chapter 24, so this chapter carries great meaning to me since I felt Jesus was personally talking to me about the things that would come upon the world. Every time I read verse 10 “At that time many will fall away and will betray one another and hate one another." I have always told myself, "That's not me. I'm not interested in falling away and betraying anyone. I want to be one who endures to the end."
This day while reading from the NKJ version to my children I reached verse 10 in the different translation which said, "And then shall many be offended, and shall betray one another, and shall hate one another." God hit me right between the eyes! "then shall many be offended" "shall hate one another". Wow! The memory of how the Promise Keepers parking fee offended me and the hatred I had felt came full circle. I heard God's still quiet voice say to me, "And look how easy it happened to you David!"
It was a great lesson for me. Little things that should be insignificant can often easily end up offending us stirring up strong emotions. I had personally experienced it at Promise Keepers. It can happen between spouses, friends, work acquaintances, and strangers. I am much more wary of this trick of the devil since my Promise Keepers experience and the NKJ translation. I hope this Tall Tale can also make you wary of this clever tactic of the enemy and help you also be one who endures to the end able to look with compassion on those who may unknowingly give offense.
The man that befriended me on the Frisbee field wasn't aware of what had just happened to me regarding parking, but God was and I have no doubt that He placed the man with the frisbee and dog there for me for such a time as this. Likewise I believe God had the shortstop there for Jackie Robinson when he needed him most. Thank you Mr. Kellogg for that story. Music thru the Night is almost over now, and I've added another Tall Tale to my collection that will hopefully be of benefit to some of you. I have company arriving later today, so hopefully now I can catch a little more sleep and this visit will also be in God's hand.
“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me; and I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of My hand." John 10:27,28
Ciao!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Take on minimal fuel
One of the things I was told as a brand new EMS pilot was to take on the minimal amount of fuel necessary to get back to base where the fuel is cheaper.
Any of you out there who are successful business people know the importance of saving a buck here and there if you can.
Night flight patient delivery to the big city of Memphis followed by refueling at Memphis International Airport. Minimal fuel, minimal fuel, minimal fuel... Memphis to Cape Girardeau. Okay, I made my choice and decided what I needed.
Many pilots will tell you that the only time you have too much fuel onboard is when your aircraft is on fire.
Well I took on minimal fuel, climbed to altitude where you get better fuel consumption and hopefully favorable winds.
Only head winds on this trip back. God, we seemed like we were moving slow. The fuel gage needle wasn't though. Do I have enough to make it back? One thing in aviation and stacking the deck in your favor besides always taking on extra fuel is to have contingency plans.
Well, there I was over the top of Blytheville Municipal Airport at a point of decision. Do I chance it and see if I can make it with truly minimal fuel or land and get some more gas?
View Larger Map
The conservative side of me had me land. At midnight the airport was closed. I called the sheriff who got the airport manager out of bed for us. No way was I going to tell the man to give me a couple of gallons. I said, "Top it off!"
Always better to be safe than sorry. And, who knows when I might need the man to get up out of bed again for just a little bit of fuel.
After that experience I always took on a little more than just the minimal amount of fuel necessary to make it back.
If the powers that be didn't like that, they could dang sure come and fly that bird their own self.
Ciao! and, if you fly: FLY SAFE!
Any of you out there who are successful business people know the importance of saving a buck here and there if you can.
Night flight patient delivery to the big city of Memphis followed by refueling at Memphis International Airport. Minimal fuel, minimal fuel, minimal fuel... Memphis to Cape Girardeau. Okay, I made my choice and decided what I needed.
Many pilots will tell you that the only time you have too much fuel onboard is when your aircraft is on fire.
Well I took on minimal fuel, climbed to altitude where you get better fuel consumption and hopefully favorable winds.
Only head winds on this trip back. God, we seemed like we were moving slow. The fuel gage needle wasn't though. Do I have enough to make it back? One thing in aviation and stacking the deck in your favor besides always taking on extra fuel is to have contingency plans.
Well, there I was over the top of Blytheville Municipal Airport at a point of decision. Do I chance it and see if I can make it with truly minimal fuel or land and get some more gas?
View Larger Map
The conservative side of me had me land. At midnight the airport was closed. I called the sheriff who got the airport manager out of bed for us. No way was I going to tell the man to give me a couple of gallons. I said, "Top it off!"
Always better to be safe than sorry. And, who knows when I might need the man to get up out of bed again for just a little bit of fuel.
After that experience I always took on a little more than just the minimal amount of fuel necessary to make it back.
If the powers that be didn't like that, they could dang sure come and fly that bird their own self.
Ciao! and, if you fly: FLY SAFE!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Stacking the Deck to Maintain GPA
A couple of Computer Science professors overhead a group of students talking about a 4.0 GPA; the two CS professors looked at each other as one commented, "Obviously not Computer Science students".
When I decided to return to school late in life to pursue a computer science degree I did my first semester back in school at a small branch of the big state university located in my current home town. I was under the miss impression that I would be able to get everything I needed there. I could have done one more semester here before going off to the big campus, but I would have used up a lot of my filler classes and would have not been left with much easy stuff to buffer the extra hard classes required for a BS in CS. Fifteen credit hours of nothing but tough classes is hard to digest. It is nice to have some soft and easy stuff sprinkled among the hard and demanding stuff.
Initially, I didn't know the fine arts, of which a student had to choose two out of three choices, were some of the easy stuff. I took my first fine arts at the little campus, but which one would it be?
There was Fine Arts Music, then there was Fine Arts Visual, and Fine Arts Theater. None of the openings for Fine Arts Visual matched my schedule so I had to choose between Music or Theater. Well, I had no clue what fine arts was all about and I have ZERO musical talent; my wife hogged it all and did a pretty nice job of it. So, I decided I had better try Theater.
My fine arts theater class was at the end of the day. I really enjoyed learning and entered the classroom with pleasant anticipation. The room was full. Finally a haggard looking teacher entered. She had evidently had a long day. She started talking handling her haggard condition well. A couple of things she said set off warning bells in my head. Something then inspired me to look around and survey the room. It was full of women. I was the only guy in the whole class.
The teacher was not a normal fine arts theater teacher; she was substituting because the school didn't have one for the moment. The teacher started talking about the class doing plays, then one of the girls spoke up and said, "What are we going to do about guy parts? We don't have enough guys to go around."
The teacher then said, "Oh, we'll just have to be transgendered. I can't say transsexual, because that would be wrong, but it's alright for us to be transgendered."
I found myself thinking, "I'm not interested in being transgendered. I'm glad I'm a guy. It should be easy to fill a guy part."
Then the teacher said, "Lets do a reading" as she arbitrarily opened the text book to a play and told us where to turn to. The reading started on the far end of the room from me. It was a guy / girl play. It didn't take long for me to realize that I might not have any say or choice as to any part I might be assigned. I started deliberating what I could do. I felt trapped.
The reading continued from student to student as it approached me. The teacher was happily smiling as each student in succession read their line. Finally my turn arrived. I looked directly at the teacher and said, "Teacher I have serious inhibitions about doing a transgendered part! Do you think there is any hope for me?"
When what I had said sunk into her tired brain and she realized it wasn't the line I was supposed to read and comprehension of what I said set in, her happy little smile disappeared. She looked up from her book directly back at me as darts flew from her eyeballs toward me. Then she pointed at me and commanded, "NO! Now read!"
I said, "What? You don't like my ad libbed line?"
She said, "We'll come back to you later", and motioned with her hand to skip over me. The reading continued. As it progressed toward the end of the classroom, the bell rang.
SAVED BY THE BELL!!!
I exited the classroom and went directly to the administration office where I dropped fine arts theater and registered for fine arts music. Fine arts music was a great class. I completed it with an "A". It wasn't noting like I thought it would be.
The following day after dropping theater, I stopped by the fine arts theater teacher's office and told her I dropped her class because I thought it would be better for both her and me. She pleasantly said, "Ah, we could have made it worked." I said, "Well we don't have to bother trying now." It might have been a good class. I didn't hang around to find out. I cut my losses while I could, and bailed on what I discerned could turn into a bad situation. Discretion is often called the better part of valor.
At the "BIG CAMPUS" I now had the choice between fine arts visual or fine arts theater. Given my previous theater experience, I opted for the visual. Nice teacher. Brand new though, yet easy on the eyes and pleasant. The visual stuff seemed very interesting. My gosh! The amount of work and study it required though. I think a lot of brand new teachers have higher expectations than reality allows especially for a class that should have been an easy ride. I worked and studied hard for her first test. I aced it! Woohoo!
The teacher wasn't too happy though with the overall class performance. Evidently the lion's share of the class didn't do too well on her first test. Her boy friend was a chemistry professor that told her, her students just didn't put out the required effort. Wow! I wish I had the luxury to put out the necessary effort all semester her class would have taken to continue to ace her tests. I had a Calculus III class I was also contending with, so I went and dropped her class like I had dropped the theater class at the small campus. I didn't bother stopping by and visiting her office after my drop though like I did the other teacher. I didn't have anything I could tell her that would be useful. I'd imagine she'd figure it out eventually like most do. I kinda felt sorry for her, but that wasn't going to help me stack the deck in favor of my GPA.
After dropping fine arts visual I eventually ended up taking theater at the big campus. Imagine that! This teacher didn't make us do any plays. We just studied theater and learned what thespians are. It was a pretty easy "A". I also did an extracurricular project for this teacher on my own initiative unrequested. I wrote a play titled: "Prettier at Closing Time, A tale from the dark side". I gave it too him with a smile saying I had a blueprint for him. After he read it I found he didn't much care for it. He told me it was a morality play and that they weren't too popular. He also asked me how could you get someone to play the part of LouElla. I just agreed with him and said, "Yeah" with a countenance of disappointment. Every time I watch something now that has a part that could be difficult to cast like "Peach" in Lonesome Dove, I ask my wife, "Now how can you get someone to play that part?"
The inspiration for Prettier at Closing Time came from a dream I had once where I feel the Lord was showing me what I had waiting for me in the hereafter if I didn't change my former debauched and hedonistic ways. The play wasn't the first time I had capitalized on the dream for a classroom project. During my first ever semester in college at LSU in the fall of 1981 we were given an assignment to watch any television show of our choice and put it on paper. There wasn't anything on television I was interested in. Then the idea came to me to write up my dream as if it was an episode of the Darkroom TV series which aired at the time. My english teacher gave me an "A" which you can find at the lower right of the second page.
Now that typewriter written paper is an old artifact.
Here is the link to the song in the play: Old Fashion Man
I came close to changing my major a time or two, but I managed to make it through with a respectable GPA though not a 4.0 because of it being Computer Science you know...
I'd rather be coding (programming), but thanks to my foggy headed days I can handle writing a whole lot easier. Reading Tall Tales is probably a lot easier for others that visit here than reading software code, but then maybe I could have created a farmville, mafiawars, or youtube application that would have scored a billion users like ProximityCast (NOT). Then I might have managed to become a much better host and gotten to travel and see more of you along the way.
Regardless, I've had interesting hands dealt to me to play along the way. When all is finally said and done, having a journey full of tall tales is probably more valuable and entertaining than anything else I could have done. As long as I manage to pass through "the" narrow gate and endure to the end I'll have to consider myself blessed. Thank You Jesus!
It ain't over yet though... Are you ready!
Ciao...
When I decided to return to school late in life to pursue a computer science degree I did my first semester back in school at a small branch of the big state university located in my current home town. I was under the miss impression that I would be able to get everything I needed there. I could have done one more semester here before going off to the big campus, but I would have used up a lot of my filler classes and would have not been left with much easy stuff to buffer the extra hard classes required for a BS in CS. Fifteen credit hours of nothing but tough classes is hard to digest. It is nice to have some soft and easy stuff sprinkled among the hard and demanding stuff.
Initially, I didn't know the fine arts, of which a student had to choose two out of three choices, were some of the easy stuff. I took my first fine arts at the little campus, but which one would it be?
There was Fine Arts Music, then there was Fine Arts Visual, and Fine Arts Theater. None of the openings for Fine Arts Visual matched my schedule so I had to choose between Music or Theater. Well, I had no clue what fine arts was all about and I have ZERO musical talent; my wife hogged it all and did a pretty nice job of it. So, I decided I had better try Theater.
My fine arts theater class was at the end of the day. I really enjoyed learning and entered the classroom with pleasant anticipation. The room was full. Finally a haggard looking teacher entered. She had evidently had a long day. She started talking handling her haggard condition well. A couple of things she said set off warning bells in my head. Something then inspired me to look around and survey the room. It was full of women. I was the only guy in the whole class.
The teacher was not a normal fine arts theater teacher; she was substituting because the school didn't have one for the moment. The teacher started talking about the class doing plays, then one of the girls spoke up and said, "What are we going to do about guy parts? We don't have enough guys to go around."
The teacher then said, "Oh, we'll just have to be transgendered. I can't say transsexual, because that would be wrong, but it's alright for us to be transgendered."
I found myself thinking, "I'm not interested in being transgendered. I'm glad I'm a guy. It should be easy to fill a guy part."
Then the teacher said, "Lets do a reading" as she arbitrarily opened the text book to a play and told us where to turn to. The reading started on the far end of the room from me. It was a guy / girl play. It didn't take long for me to realize that I might not have any say or choice as to any part I might be assigned. I started deliberating what I could do. I felt trapped.
The reading continued from student to student as it approached me. The teacher was happily smiling as each student in succession read their line. Finally my turn arrived. I looked directly at the teacher and said, "Teacher I have serious inhibitions about doing a transgendered part! Do you think there is any hope for me?"
When what I had said sunk into her tired brain and she realized it wasn't the line I was supposed to read and comprehension of what I said set in, her happy little smile disappeared. She looked up from her book directly back at me as darts flew from her eyeballs toward me. Then she pointed at me and commanded, "NO! Now read!"
I said, "What? You don't like my ad libbed line?"
She said, "We'll come back to you later", and motioned with her hand to skip over me. The reading continued. As it progressed toward the end of the classroom, the bell rang.
SAVED BY THE BELL!!!
I exited the classroom and went directly to the administration office where I dropped fine arts theater and registered for fine arts music. Fine arts music was a great class. I completed it with an "A". It wasn't noting like I thought it would be.
The following day after dropping theater, I stopped by the fine arts theater teacher's office and told her I dropped her class because I thought it would be better for both her and me. She pleasantly said, "Ah, we could have made it worked." I said, "Well we don't have to bother trying now." It might have been a good class. I didn't hang around to find out. I cut my losses while I could, and bailed on what I discerned could turn into a bad situation. Discretion is often called the better part of valor.
At the "BIG CAMPUS" I now had the choice between fine arts visual or fine arts theater. Given my previous theater experience, I opted for the visual. Nice teacher. Brand new though, yet easy on the eyes and pleasant. The visual stuff seemed very interesting. My gosh! The amount of work and study it required though. I think a lot of brand new teachers have higher expectations than reality allows especially for a class that should have been an easy ride. I worked and studied hard for her first test. I aced it! Woohoo!
The teacher wasn't too happy though with the overall class performance. Evidently the lion's share of the class didn't do too well on her first test. Her boy friend was a chemistry professor that told her, her students just didn't put out the required effort. Wow! I wish I had the luxury to put out the necessary effort all semester her class would have taken to continue to ace her tests. I had a Calculus III class I was also contending with, so I went and dropped her class like I had dropped the theater class at the small campus. I didn't bother stopping by and visiting her office after my drop though like I did the other teacher. I didn't have anything I could tell her that would be useful. I'd imagine she'd figure it out eventually like most do. I kinda felt sorry for her, but that wasn't going to help me stack the deck in favor of my GPA.
After dropping fine arts visual I eventually ended up taking theater at the big campus. Imagine that! This teacher didn't make us do any plays. We just studied theater and learned what thespians are. It was a pretty easy "A". I also did an extracurricular project for this teacher on my own initiative unrequested. I wrote a play titled: "Prettier at Closing Time, A tale from the dark side". I gave it too him with a smile saying I had a blueprint for him. After he read it I found he didn't much care for it. He told me it was a morality play and that they weren't too popular. He also asked me how could you get someone to play the part of LouElla. I just agreed with him and said, "Yeah" with a countenance of disappointment. Every time I watch something now that has a part that could be difficult to cast like "Peach" in Lonesome Dove, I ask my wife, "Now how can you get someone to play that part?"
The inspiration for Prettier at Closing Time came from a dream I had once where I feel the Lord was showing me what I had waiting for me in the hereafter if I didn't change my former debauched and hedonistic ways. The play wasn't the first time I had capitalized on the dream for a classroom project. During my first ever semester in college at LSU in the fall of 1981 we were given an assignment to watch any television show of our choice and put it on paper. There wasn't anything on television I was interested in. Then the idea came to me to write up my dream as if it was an episode of the Darkroom TV series which aired at the time. My english teacher gave me an "A" which you can find at the lower right of the second page.
Now that typewriter written paper is an old artifact.
Here is the link to the song in the play: Old Fashion Man
I came close to changing my major a time or two, but I managed to make it through with a respectable GPA though not a 4.0 because of it being Computer Science you know...
I'd rather be coding (programming), but thanks to my foggy headed days I can handle writing a whole lot easier. Reading Tall Tales is probably a lot easier for others that visit here than reading software code, but then maybe I could have created a farmville, mafiawars, or youtube application that would have scored a billion users like ProximityCast (NOT). Then I might have managed to become a much better host and gotten to travel and see more of you along the way.
Regardless, I've had interesting hands dealt to me to play along the way. When all is finally said and done, having a journey full of tall tales is probably more valuable and entertaining than anything else I could have done. As long as I manage to pass through "the" narrow gate and endure to the end I'll have to consider myself blessed. Thank You Jesus!
It ain't over yet though... Are you ready!
Ciao...
Monday, August 16, 2010
Coming Back Stronger ~ Drew Brees
I just finished reading
I predict that the Saints will not win a single game in the up coming season. Don't bother asking until we know whether or not my prediction held true.
If I am wrong: Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez!
If I am right, I will write my book review explaining how I came to my conclusion.
ciao...
UPDATE
New Orleans Saints beat the Minnesota Vikings 14-9 in the season opener at the Superdome.
I'll still write my book review. Just sooner than I thought, and it just won't include the reason for my prediction.
Who dat! Who dat say they gonna beat dem saints!
I predict that the Saints will not win a single game in the up coming season. Don't bother asking until we know whether or not my prediction held true.
If I am wrong: Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez!
If I am right, I will write my book review explaining how I came to my conclusion.
ciao...
UPDATE
New Orleans Saints beat the Minnesota Vikings 14-9 in the season opener at the Superdome.
Laissez Les Bon Temps Roulez!
I'll still write my book review. Just sooner than I thought, and it just won't include the reason for my prediction.
Who dat! Who dat say they gonna beat dem saints!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Duty Officer ~ Opportunity to show mercy
"For the one who has shown no mercy will be judged without mercy.
Mercy triumphs over judgment."
James 2:13
"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy."
Matthew 5:7
I have been shown more mercy in my life than I probably deserve. I have a tall tale or two I could tell where I probably would have lost my opportunity to go to Army Flight School if I had not been shown mercy. Because of the mercy I have been shown, I am inclined to show others mercy when I am able and when they will allow it.
This is the story of a young black soldier named Henry that served in my unit in Korea. I was the duty officer one night when I was called to the front gate. Korea had and maybe still does a curfew where the streets shut down at midnight. Only Military Police patrols are allowed out after that. Sometimes drunks do not necessarily like complying with a curfew and other inconveniences that may seem unreasonable to those who can't understand or refuse to accept the reason for them whether justified or not.
It was either midnight or very close to it when I was summoned to the camp's front gate because of a ruckus one of the drunks that didn't want to call it quits for the night was causing. When I arrived at the gate I found the source of the ruckus to be the young soldier mentioned above. I made several attempts to reason with him telling him that party time was over and it was time to put a cap on it and go to bed. Every attempt to extend mercy was met with loud, obnoxious, and disrespectful protests about how he was ready to continue partying, and no one was going to stop him. I did my best to show this young soldier mercy that he wanted no part of. I finally just shook my head and wrote him up when it became obvious that all attempts were fruitless. After he was wrote up, the guards were able to escort him to the stockade where he could sober up and cool off. His fate was now out of my hands. I had no idea what else would result from his obstinacy.
Besides getting to sober up in the stockade Henry was placed on restriction. I was surprised by the length of restriction he received. My turn at duty officer rolled around again, and Henry was still on restriction from the previous incident involving me. Basically, he was not allowed to leave the compound. All of the officers in the unit took a turn at duty officer. Since we were an aviation unit there were plenty of officers, so duty officer didn't roll around that much.
Henry approached me. He was very polite. He even told be that he understood why I wrote him up. Others had told him I had done my best to try to give him a break that he wouldn't take. The length of Henry's restriction presented him with another problem. He had a korean girlfriend in the ville that had some of his possessions at her place. He was afraid that he would lose them if she moved on since he had not showed up in such a long time. Henry asked me if I could give him permission to leave the compound and go fetch his stuff.
This request was outside the realm of my authority. I told Henry, "I don't have the authority to allow you to do that, but I can take you to the company commander and let you personally ask him if it is okay." Henry didn't want to do that. He then asked me what would happen if he snuck out in the back of a deuce and a half. A deuce and a half is a standard sized military truck commonly used for a variety of purposes. I told Henry that if he didn't get caught then I guess nothing. He thought about that and said, "Okay" as he left.
I then called the front gate and told John Wayne, this was the nick name for a particularly large korean guard, to make sure he carefully checked every truck that left the compound. After calling John Wayne, I got myself a chair and placed it outside at the corner of one of the officer's BOQ where I had a good view of the front gate so I could comfortably sit back and watch the show.
Well, it wasn't long before a deuce and a half pulled up to the gate. John Wayne bee-bopped around to the back of the truck and lifted the flap and peeked in. There was Henry. I could see the surprised on John Wayne's face as he ordered Henry out of the truck. When I was called up there I told Henry the offer to personally ask the company commander still stood. He was now ready, so I took him to the Major. The Major said, "He can go and get his stuff as long as you escort him Robert".
So, Henry and I had our little ville excursion. It was uneventful.
OUCH! This wasn't uneventful! (This was a link to a helicopter crash of a botched loop where the pilot crashed and burned literally. I removed it because the page had sneaky links to inappropriate videos. Don't ask.)
As a pilot I am sometimes asked to do things I shouldn't. If you looked at the video, I have no personal desire to do any flying like that. Why do it other than just to show off? If I have a genuine operational necessity, then I'm all for doing something I have the ability to do, but I have learned that IF something is going to go wrong, it will most likely go wrong when you are doing something you have no business doing. Yeah I have gotten away with stuff I probably shouldn't have done, but I've learned to ask myself a good question to gauge whether or not I should do something requested. So what's the question?
"If I do this, how would I like to be sitting across the table from someone explaining why I did it?"
If the answer is "I wouldn't", then I don't!
Not everyone is inclined to show mercy in this day and age. As I have gotten older I try hard not to put myself in a position where I might need it because of doing something something I probably shouldn't have done. I know of a couple of stories where the individuals involved deserved to be shown a little more mercy than they received. Both were innocent in their assumptions, but those with authority over them viewed it otherwise fair or not. Neither did those in authority show any mercy. It is getting tough out there.
Be careful!
Ciao...
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Marginal Weather Flying ~ Civilian EMS
In previous posts I covered marginal weather flying in the military. Civilian EMS is a whole different ballgame that requires a different mindset.
When I first knew I was going to get a job flying civilian EMS I called a buddy of mine that had flown EMS previously. He gave me the best attitude mindset about the job than any other I've heard. He said, "Dave. That aircraft is not there for just any given patient. It is there for all the patients it may have to serve in the future too. If you make a bad decision and break your aircraft because you pushed weather, or worse hurt or kill yourself and/or your crew because you made a bad weather decision; you just took that aircraft out of service for all the people that will need it down line".
Most of the unknowing public consider civilian EMS as a job for heros, but in reality it is not. Pilots are told to consider their patients as simply a box of rocks they are trying to deliver. There is no sense in risking your life or your crews life for a box of rocks, so if there is any question as to safety; the pilot does what is safe for himself and his/her crew first and foremost. The mindset is similar to what the Red Cross teaches in swimming lifesaving; if you don't have the ability and skill to enter the water and rescue someone, it is better to have one drown instead of two.
All of the above is sometimes easier said than done since we are human. We can find ourselves feeling compassion for our fellow man whether we want to or not. Because of our human condition the company I worked for had a policy that the pilot was not to be told any patient information until after the go/no go weather decision was already made. The idea was that the company wanted their pilots to think with their minds and not with their hearts. When I first heard this policy I thought I would always make an appropriate weather decision regardless of what I knew about the patient. Well, I didn't have any choice because the company, e.g. medical crews and dispatchers were pretty good about sticking to the policy.
Late one night while on shift I personally experienced the wisdom of this policy. The flight phone rang for a flight request to a scene and then on to Little Rock. The weather was really quite lousy, so I turned the request down. After I turned it down the medical crew told me a ground ambulance was beating feet to Little Rock with a pregnant woman and things were going south for the woman and baby fast. At that time a friend's wife was pregnant with what was to be their only child. This friend lived in the area and there was a real possibility that it was his wife needing help. I had the hardest time going back to sleep wondering if it was my friend's wife. Well it wasn't his wife I found out later with a lot of relief, but it was someone's loved one. Since we did not participate I never heard how things turned out for the woman and baby.
A pilot that pushes it too much in civilian EMS and is overly concerned with doing whatever they can to get the job done to help the patient gets tagged as a "Rescue Ranger", which is a bad reputation to have in civilian EMS. A "Rescue Ranger" is considered an accident just waiting for a place to happen.
For the majority of the EMS flights I've flown, I couldn't tell you from one day to the next what the flight involved patient wise. Most of them just all blend together. Then there are some that you never forget; mostly those involving children, and some involving unusual circumstances. For instance one attempted suicide I flew where the bullet took the person's face off of his head without hurting his brain. My medic said, "Man Dave! If you ever find me like that, just finish the job for me." I said, "If I ever find you like that, it's not my job to finish it for you. So, you just better do the job right in the first place." This was the only patient I ever flew that I established a friendship with after the fact. I figured he needed a friend. He had a tough go of it trying to make it through life without a face caused by something he had done.
Anyhow, back to weather. In Korea we knew the area we flew in like the back of our hand. We trained low and flew low much of the time for tactical reasons, plus if the weather forced you lower you were already familiar with the terrain so it felt like home where otherwise a lower altitude could feel like a foreign land over territory that you commonly covered from a high altitude. In aviation, altitude is your friend unless you are in hostile territory where the enemy has the ability to easily shoot you down. Though EMS aircraft have been shot at before by crazies on the ground (I never have that I know of) it is not a significant concern, so we tend to fly at a reasonable altitude. Also in Korea there was quite often a convenient rice paddy always available in most areas if the weather became impossible to deal with. In civilian EMS you most often get to pick what tree you'd like to set it down into if you let it go as far as we could in Korea. The weather can be unpredictable. I have had to make weather precautionary landings. That can be frowned upon, but if the weather is going south fast it is the better option as opposed to crashing. It is always much better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air, than in the air wishing you were on the ground.
In the military we could legally take advantage of the IFR enroute structure if the need arose when there was an IFR enroute structure. Because it takes extra money and equipment to have legal IFR capability, that is often not an option with many civilian EMS flying jobs. There is enough instrumentation to save your bacon if you encounter IIMC and are competent, but you can't intentionally select that option legally unless your aircraft is certified for it and you are IFR current. It is something most pilots would like, but just not available in most cases for various reasons.
On one interesting flight the weather was showing signs of deterioration as we neared our destination of Little Rock. The medic told me, "What ever you do Dave, I don't want to set on the ground with this patient". That was the wrong thing to say... The weather continued to deteriorate. I had established communication with Little Rock approach control about thirty miles out so I could enter their Class C airspace seamlessly with the time approached. I continued to monitor the deteriorating weather situation along with the "extra pressure" from the medic not to do a weather precautionary landing prior to our destination. Well, it soon became obvious that the safe thing to do was the weather precautionary landing regardless of what the medic wanted. I advised Little Rock of my intentions. The controller then offered me several options on different IFR approaches. Though it would have been nice to have been able to accept them, I had to turn him down because even though I had the ability I would not have been legal accepting any of them.
We made our weather precautionary landing and rendezvoused with a ground ambulance that completed the delivery with my med crew. The medical crew often stays with the patient on the ground ambulance in situations like this rather than turn the patient over to a lessor level of care.
There is a lot involved in making a good weather decision. The tools available to help the pilot make a good decision have improved over the years I have flown EMS. There are conditions I've flown through in the early days that I would have never found myself in with the new tools available. For example; I remember one night flight where everything available looked good to go, but I wanted to personally see a weather radar screen before taking off. Just call it a hunch. All we had back then was the weather channel on TV that occasionally cycled a radar screen up. Well, I waited, and waited, and waited for the radar to come up. Finally we just left without seeing the radar. Ceiling and visibility was good that night, but boy did we ever fly through a lot of rain. I probably would have turned that flight down if I had a convenient peek at the radar screen. My medic certainly saved this patient's life having to do an in the field tracheotomy. The receiving physician complemented him on the job he did. So, what do we do when we turn a flight down? Well, if it is night time we go back to bed and go to sleep. They don't call EMS "Earn Money Sleeping" for nothing.
In the company I worked for besides the policy of not telling the pilot what they were requested for prior to making the weather decision, they also have a policy of "three to go, one to say no". If any one of the crew members is uncomfortable with the weather they can call the flight off regardless of whether they are a pilot, nurse, or medic. Some pilots have a tough time with this, thinking it is solely in the pilot's domain to make a weather decision. But, it is simply the way it is and sometimes with good reason; some medical crew have had pilots scare the living hell out of them. Knowing what I know after a little over 6000 hours of total time I'm not very interested in riding in the back with just anyone upfront. Neither am I interested in ever letting my wife be a flight nurse. Now if I were a patient or any of my loved ones were a patient needing air transport, I wouldn't think twice about letting them fly. Both of my sons have had an air medical flight for which I was quite grateful. I can show you the bill on one of them which I have framed. In one good week of flying I can easily make my whole annual salary. C'est la vie!
Sometimes pilots receive pressure to fly when they shouldn't. This can happen in the military too. I remember flying a Colonel once that was a non-aviator and thought pilots had xray vision based on how he acted. The weather was getting worse by the minute and he was practically swearing that it was getting better. I flew to the point where to continue I would have had to make an "educated guess", pull pitch, bust into the clouds and guesstimate when to let pitch out to get by the mountain blocking our way along with the inclement weather. Actually there would not have been anything educated about it; it would have been pure ignorant stupidity and foolishness to try and continue. Another time at the hospital co-located with our corporate headquarters where we were to pickup our patient, I stepped into dispatch to look at the radar. Thunderstorms were popping up all along the route to the receiving hospital. The company president just happened to be in dispatch also. This man was pointing out all the ways I could pick my way through the storms. I personally knew with the changing weather that it would not be prudent to attempt to complete the flight, so I had to call it off in spite of the company president's encouragement to accept and make the flight. I told this gentleman the words of wisdom my buddy had passed on to me years before and also told him that we'd be going back to our base and not making this flight regardless of what he thought I could do. This man prior to becoming our company's president had been a hospital administrator and was a non-pilot, but even if he was a pilot if I felt not to go he would be more than welcome to try it himself as long as none of my loved ones were in the back. And, more power to him if he could have successfully made it. C'est la vie, and some of my friends consider what I did for a job was not real work. That may be debatable, but when they actually do the job we can then have a better debate.
HEMS has been a good job though that I thoroughly enjoyed. Its accident rate has gone through the ceiling recently and has gotten a lot of national attention. I have my own theory on the best means to improve their current lousy safety record that differs from current well meaning attempts. Time will tell whether or not the current attempts will produce viable results.
Till then, if you fly: fly safe. If you drive, don't drink. If you drink, don't drive. Cherish each day you have because life is a precious gift. No one is promised tomorrow. Value the time you have with those you love. Later...
Ciao!
When I first knew I was going to get a job flying civilian EMS I called a buddy of mine that had flown EMS previously. He gave me the best attitude mindset about the job than any other I've heard. He said, "Dave. That aircraft is not there for just any given patient. It is there for all the patients it may have to serve in the future too. If you make a bad decision and break your aircraft because you pushed weather, or worse hurt or kill yourself and/or your crew because you made a bad weather decision; you just took that aircraft out of service for all the people that will need it down line".
Most of the unknowing public consider civilian EMS as a job for heros, but in reality it is not. Pilots are told to consider their patients as simply a box of rocks they are trying to deliver. There is no sense in risking your life or your crews life for a box of rocks, so if there is any question as to safety; the pilot does what is safe for himself and his/her crew first and foremost. The mindset is similar to what the Red Cross teaches in swimming lifesaving; if you don't have the ability and skill to enter the water and rescue someone, it is better to have one drown instead of two.
All of the above is sometimes easier said than done since we are human. We can find ourselves feeling compassion for our fellow man whether we want to or not. Because of our human condition the company I worked for had a policy that the pilot was not to be told any patient information until after the go/no go weather decision was already made. The idea was that the company wanted their pilots to think with their minds and not with their hearts. When I first heard this policy I thought I would always make an appropriate weather decision regardless of what I knew about the patient. Well, I didn't have any choice because the company, e.g. medical crews and dispatchers were pretty good about sticking to the policy.
Late one night while on shift I personally experienced the wisdom of this policy. The flight phone rang for a flight request to a scene and then on to Little Rock. The weather was really quite lousy, so I turned the request down. After I turned it down the medical crew told me a ground ambulance was beating feet to Little Rock with a pregnant woman and things were going south for the woman and baby fast. At that time a friend's wife was pregnant with what was to be their only child. This friend lived in the area and there was a real possibility that it was his wife needing help. I had the hardest time going back to sleep wondering if it was my friend's wife. Well it wasn't his wife I found out later with a lot of relief, but it was someone's loved one. Since we did not participate I never heard how things turned out for the woman and baby.
A pilot that pushes it too much in civilian EMS and is overly concerned with doing whatever they can to get the job done to help the patient gets tagged as a "Rescue Ranger", which is a bad reputation to have in civilian EMS. A "Rescue Ranger" is considered an accident just waiting for a place to happen.
For the majority of the EMS flights I've flown, I couldn't tell you from one day to the next what the flight involved patient wise. Most of them just all blend together. Then there are some that you never forget; mostly those involving children, and some involving unusual circumstances. For instance one attempted suicide I flew where the bullet took the person's face off of his head without hurting his brain. My medic said, "Man Dave! If you ever find me like that, just finish the job for me." I said, "If I ever find you like that, it's not my job to finish it for you. So, you just better do the job right in the first place." This was the only patient I ever flew that I established a friendship with after the fact. I figured he needed a friend. He had a tough go of it trying to make it through life without a face caused by something he had done.
Anyhow, back to weather. In Korea we knew the area we flew in like the back of our hand. We trained low and flew low much of the time for tactical reasons, plus if the weather forced you lower you were already familiar with the terrain so it felt like home where otherwise a lower altitude could feel like a foreign land over territory that you commonly covered from a high altitude. In aviation, altitude is your friend unless you are in hostile territory where the enemy has the ability to easily shoot you down. Though EMS aircraft have been shot at before by crazies on the ground (I never have that I know of) it is not a significant concern, so we tend to fly at a reasonable altitude. Also in Korea there was quite often a convenient rice paddy always available in most areas if the weather became impossible to deal with. In civilian EMS you most often get to pick what tree you'd like to set it down into if you let it go as far as we could in Korea. The weather can be unpredictable. I have had to make weather precautionary landings. That can be frowned upon, but if the weather is going south fast it is the better option as opposed to crashing. It is always much better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air, than in the air wishing you were on the ground.
In the military we could legally take advantage of the IFR enroute structure if the need arose when there was an IFR enroute structure. Because it takes extra money and equipment to have legal IFR capability, that is often not an option with many civilian EMS flying jobs. There is enough instrumentation to save your bacon if you encounter IIMC and are competent, but you can't intentionally select that option legally unless your aircraft is certified for it and you are IFR current. It is something most pilots would like, but just not available in most cases for various reasons.
On one interesting flight the weather was showing signs of deterioration as we neared our destination of Little Rock. The medic told me, "What ever you do Dave, I don't want to set on the ground with this patient". That was the wrong thing to say... The weather continued to deteriorate. I had established communication with Little Rock approach control about thirty miles out so I could enter their Class C airspace seamlessly with the time approached. I continued to monitor the deteriorating weather situation along with the "extra pressure" from the medic not to do a weather precautionary landing prior to our destination. Well, it soon became obvious that the safe thing to do was the weather precautionary landing regardless of what the medic wanted. I advised Little Rock of my intentions. The controller then offered me several options on different IFR approaches. Though it would have been nice to have been able to accept them, I had to turn him down because even though I had the ability I would not have been legal accepting any of them.
We made our weather precautionary landing and rendezvoused with a ground ambulance that completed the delivery with my med crew. The medical crew often stays with the patient on the ground ambulance in situations like this rather than turn the patient over to a lessor level of care.
There is a lot involved in making a good weather decision. The tools available to help the pilot make a good decision have improved over the years I have flown EMS. There are conditions I've flown through in the early days that I would have never found myself in with the new tools available. For example; I remember one night flight where everything available looked good to go, but I wanted to personally see a weather radar screen before taking off. Just call it a hunch. All we had back then was the weather channel on TV that occasionally cycled a radar screen up. Well, I waited, and waited, and waited for the radar to come up. Finally we just left without seeing the radar. Ceiling and visibility was good that night, but boy did we ever fly through a lot of rain. I probably would have turned that flight down if I had a convenient peek at the radar screen. My medic certainly saved this patient's life having to do an in the field tracheotomy. The receiving physician complemented him on the job he did. So, what do we do when we turn a flight down? Well, if it is night time we go back to bed and go to sleep. They don't call EMS "Earn Money Sleeping" for nothing.
In the company I worked for besides the policy of not telling the pilot what they were requested for prior to making the weather decision, they also have a policy of "three to go, one to say no". If any one of the crew members is uncomfortable with the weather they can call the flight off regardless of whether they are a pilot, nurse, or medic. Some pilots have a tough time with this, thinking it is solely in the pilot's domain to make a weather decision. But, it is simply the way it is and sometimes with good reason; some medical crew have had pilots scare the living hell out of them. Knowing what I know after a little over 6000 hours of total time I'm not very interested in riding in the back with just anyone upfront. Neither am I interested in ever letting my wife be a flight nurse. Now if I were a patient or any of my loved ones were a patient needing air transport, I wouldn't think twice about letting them fly. Both of my sons have had an air medical flight for which I was quite grateful. I can show you the bill on one of them which I have framed. In one good week of flying I can easily make my whole annual salary. C'est la vie!
Sometimes pilots receive pressure to fly when they shouldn't. This can happen in the military too. I remember flying a Colonel once that was a non-aviator and thought pilots had xray vision based on how he acted. The weather was getting worse by the minute and he was practically swearing that it was getting better. I flew to the point where to continue I would have had to make an "educated guess", pull pitch, bust into the clouds and guesstimate when to let pitch out to get by the mountain blocking our way along with the inclement weather. Actually there would not have been anything educated about it; it would have been pure ignorant stupidity and foolishness to try and continue. Another time at the hospital co-located with our corporate headquarters where we were to pickup our patient, I stepped into dispatch to look at the radar. Thunderstorms were popping up all along the route to the receiving hospital. The company president just happened to be in dispatch also. This man was pointing out all the ways I could pick my way through the storms. I personally knew with the changing weather that it would not be prudent to attempt to complete the flight, so I had to call it off in spite of the company president's encouragement to accept and make the flight. I told this gentleman the words of wisdom my buddy had passed on to me years before and also told him that we'd be going back to our base and not making this flight regardless of what he thought I could do. This man prior to becoming our company's president had been a hospital administrator and was a non-pilot, but even if he was a pilot if I felt not to go he would be more than welcome to try it himself as long as none of my loved ones were in the back. And, more power to him if he could have successfully made it. C'est la vie, and some of my friends consider what I did for a job was not real work. That may be debatable, but when they actually do the job we can then have a better debate.
HEMS has been a good job though that I thoroughly enjoyed. Its accident rate has gone through the ceiling recently and has gotten a lot of national attention. I have my own theory on the best means to improve their current lousy safety record that differs from current well meaning attempts. Time will tell whether or not the current attempts will produce viable results.
Till then, if you fly: fly safe. If you drive, don't drink. If you drink, don't drive. Cherish each day you have because life is a precious gift. No one is promised tomorrow. Value the time you have with those you love. Later...
Ciao!
Friday, August 6, 2010
Why I'm No Fan of Microsoft
Once upon a time I was a "BIG" fan of Microsoft and their products. I got burned by them, left and never looked back. I'll spare you the details of why I was once a fan and will tell you why I no longer like Microsoft. This information is somewhat dated and Microsoft "may" have made some improvements, but I'm not looking back and could care less. I'd been and would be better off now if I had "NEVER" been a fan of Microsoft in the first place. I used to listen to the Microsoft detractors and share why I was a fan and maybe even encourage others to give Microsoft a chance. To any others whom I may have encouraged to use Microsoft and subsequently got burned too, please accept my apologies and regrets.
Microsoft was not involved in my initial programming experience, but along the way when I switched to IBM clone products because of their ubiquitousness in the work place I started playing with the Microsoft programming product that came freely with every IBM system because of the convenient access. I could generate code and test on any IBM computer without having to install any software. I also went back to college along the way and was "delighted" with the Microsoft student license pricing and convenience.
But then I returned to the workplace and began doing what I thought was some significant work that had potential to go somewhere. I had a small problem in that I was now doing this work with a Microsoft product that I only had a student license for.
The product worked well for me except I decided that it would probably be a good idea to get a valid commercial license just in case what I was working on got wings and really took off. This was in the very early days of Microsoft's Dot.Net products being advertised and released. What I was using worked fine and even though Bill Gates touted the Dot.Net product as allowing you to get your projects up and running faster and better than ever before, I didn't see a need to fix what was not broken and spend what was a lot of money for me to step up to the Dot.Net products.
I contacted Microsoft first in an attempt to upgrade my "student license" at cost of course. Microsoft would not do this for me since they had an interest in seeing users step up to Dot.Net. I then purchased what I needed over the internet "THREE" or "FOUR" times. Three or four times??? Yes. The product I needed arrived packaged and looking legitimate each time, BUT I scrutinized the EULA and the products "authenticity" with a fine tooth comb each time. All of them proved to be pirated versions that did not provide me with a valid license which was the whole reason for the purchase since I had a working product and only needed a legitimate commercial license so I could commercially offer what I was working on and not have Microsoft come back after the fact and tag me for not having my "i"s dotted and "T"s crossed.
Everyplace I purchased the pirated products from that had the appearance of legitimacy accepted their products back and gave me a full refund when I advised them the license agreement was not valid and did not provide what I needed.
Well, because of an obstinate Microsoft corporation that would not help me upgrade my student license to a commercial license, I finally bit the bullet and did what Microsoft wanted me to do and purchased the commercial version of Microsoft's Studio.Net suite. I think I paid in the neighborhood of $1200.00 for this back then which was a big chunk of money for a poor boy that really was just a "hobbyist" programmer even though he now had a computer science degree.
In only got worse from there. Bill Gates said you'd get your projects up and running faster and easier than ever before. Well Bill, that proved to be a "BIG LIE" from my point of view. Explanation follows...
I referred to myself as a hobbyist programmer even though I have a computer science degree. Well all the intricate details are a long story, but the short of it is I'm more of a commercial helicopter pilot with entrepreneurial interests in computer science than a professional programmer. My real job involved HEMS which provided me the time I needed to work on my hobby which I had high hopes for. For those of you that think helicopter pilots make "BIG MONEY", I started HEMS in 1990 with an annual salary less than 20K. I finished my career due to medical reasons in 2006 with a salary of only 52K. As a father of five with a stay at home mom for a wife the $1200.00 I paid for Dot.Net in 2001 tacked on with my brand new student loans was a big chunk of change.
I found the Dot.Net product to be a nightmare back then. I have no idea what it is like now and no desire to know. Here is my analogy of Dot.Net as it relates to my flying:
As a helicopter pilot and not a mechanic I have "NO" desire to have too assemble an engine just so I can go do a little flying. I don't mind doing my preflight inspection to make sure my aircraft is in an airworthy condition, but then all I want to do is crank and takeoff. If I had to assemble an engine each time I wanted to go fly, I doubt I would ever fly.
Likewise, as a coder that loves programming, I have no desire to assemble a "framework" just so I can do a little coding. Every time I tried to do anything with Dot.Net it was a nightmare trying to get anything to work properly much less my code. Microsoft provided technical support, but the money meter was running every time you utilized it. All of that may have been fine for a large company with the financial resources and support personnel to keep the Dot.Net product up and running and ready for a coder to write a little code. As a one man show I got pretty much burned out trying to get Dot.Net to where I could do a little coding without dealing with all the overhead problems. I experienced Dot.Net as the death of the hobbyist coder. I also put my programming and dreams on the shelf for a long, long time because of my Dot.Net horror story and Bill's false promises.
For all of you coders happy with your "student" licenses you better think twice if you're not planning on working for a larger company that will provide you with all you need to create "their" products.
For Bill Gates who put his word on "Get it done easier and faster than ever before with Dot.Net", you would if you are a man of your word, at a minimum sit down for a meal with this poor boy to discuss the issue. I'd even pickup the meal tab at the restaurant of my choice. At the maximum, you'd step up to the plate and become my venture angel. Yeah, fat chance either one of those two things will happen just like fat chance dot.net would have made my dreams come true.
Once upon a time I was a fan of Microsoft in spite of the plethora of detractors. Now I am no fan of Microsoft and have joined the ranks of their many detractors. If you are a coder that loves programming, do yourself a favor and seek other options besides Microsoft products.
Comments both pro and con Microsoft are welcome.
Ciao...
ps I'm not alone:
Microsoft was not involved in my initial programming experience, but along the way when I switched to IBM clone products because of their ubiquitousness in the work place I started playing with the Microsoft programming product that came freely with every IBM system because of the convenient access. I could generate code and test on any IBM computer without having to install any software. I also went back to college along the way and was "delighted" with the Microsoft student license pricing and convenience.
But then I returned to the workplace and began doing what I thought was some significant work that had potential to go somewhere. I had a small problem in that I was now doing this work with a Microsoft product that I only had a student license for.
The product worked well for me except I decided that it would probably be a good idea to get a valid commercial license just in case what I was working on got wings and really took off. This was in the very early days of Microsoft's Dot.Net products being advertised and released. What I was using worked fine and even though Bill Gates touted the Dot.Net product as allowing you to get your projects up and running faster and better than ever before, I didn't see a need to fix what was not broken and spend what was a lot of money for me to step up to the Dot.Net products.
I contacted Microsoft first in an attempt to upgrade my "student license" at cost of course. Microsoft would not do this for me since they had an interest in seeing users step up to Dot.Net. I then purchased what I needed over the internet "THREE" or "FOUR" times. Three or four times??? Yes. The product I needed arrived packaged and looking legitimate each time, BUT I scrutinized the EULA and the products "authenticity" with a fine tooth comb each time. All of them proved to be pirated versions that did not provide me with a valid license which was the whole reason for the purchase since I had a working product and only needed a legitimate commercial license so I could commercially offer what I was working on and not have Microsoft come back after the fact and tag me for not having my "i"s dotted and "T"s crossed.
Everyplace I purchased the pirated products from that had the appearance of legitimacy accepted their products back and gave me a full refund when I advised them the license agreement was not valid and did not provide what I needed.
Well, because of an obstinate Microsoft corporation that would not help me upgrade my student license to a commercial license, I finally bit the bullet and did what Microsoft wanted me to do and purchased the commercial version of Microsoft's Studio.Net suite. I think I paid in the neighborhood of $1200.00 for this back then which was a big chunk of money for a poor boy that really was just a "hobbyist" programmer even though he now had a computer science degree.
In only got worse from there. Bill Gates said you'd get your projects up and running faster and easier than ever before. Well Bill, that proved to be a "BIG LIE" from my point of view. Explanation follows...
I referred to myself as a hobbyist programmer even though I have a computer science degree. Well all the intricate details are a long story, but the short of it is I'm more of a commercial helicopter pilot with entrepreneurial interests in computer science than a professional programmer. My real job involved HEMS which provided me the time I needed to work on my hobby which I had high hopes for. For those of you that think helicopter pilots make "BIG MONEY", I started HEMS in 1990 with an annual salary less than 20K. I finished my career due to medical reasons in 2006 with a salary of only 52K. As a father of five with a stay at home mom for a wife the $1200.00 I paid for Dot.Net in 2001 tacked on with my brand new student loans was a big chunk of change.
I found the Dot.Net product to be a nightmare back then. I have no idea what it is like now and no desire to know. Here is my analogy of Dot.Net as it relates to my flying:
As a helicopter pilot and not a mechanic I have "NO" desire to have too assemble an engine just so I can go do a little flying. I don't mind doing my preflight inspection to make sure my aircraft is in an airworthy condition, but then all I want to do is crank and takeoff. If I had to assemble an engine each time I wanted to go fly, I doubt I would ever fly.
Likewise, as a coder that loves programming, I have no desire to assemble a "framework" just so I can do a little coding. Every time I tried to do anything with Dot.Net it was a nightmare trying to get anything to work properly much less my code. Microsoft provided technical support, but the money meter was running every time you utilized it. All of that may have been fine for a large company with the financial resources and support personnel to keep the Dot.Net product up and running and ready for a coder to write a little code. As a one man show I got pretty much burned out trying to get Dot.Net to where I could do a little coding without dealing with all the overhead problems. I experienced Dot.Net as the death of the hobbyist coder. I also put my programming and dreams on the shelf for a long, long time because of my Dot.Net horror story and Bill's false promises.
For all of you coders happy with your "student" licenses you better think twice if you're not planning on working for a larger company that will provide you with all you need to create "their" products.
For Bill Gates who put his word on "Get it done easier and faster than ever before with Dot.Net", you would if you are a man of your word, at a minimum sit down for a meal with this poor boy to discuss the issue. I'd even pickup the meal tab at the restaurant of my choice. At the maximum, you'd step up to the plate and become my venture angel. Yeah, fat chance either one of those two things will happen just like fat chance dot.net would have made my dreams come true.
Once upon a time I was a fan of Microsoft in spite of the plethora of detractors. Now I am no fan of Microsoft and have joined the ranks of their many detractors. If you are a coder that loves programming, do yourself a favor and seek other options besides Microsoft products.
Comments both pro and con Microsoft are welcome.
Ciao...
ps I'm not alone:
Friday, July 30, 2010
Scattering to the harm of others...
"He who is not with Me is against Me; and he who does not gather with Me scatters." Matthew 12:30
WARNING! This story is not pretty and does not have a happy outcome.
It is a tale of scattering
that takes you to the end result
which was very sad for me.
I told the story of the journey that took me to a point of decision where I was born again here. Before I was born again I led a rather wild life where promiscuity and drunkenness were the two major sins I willingly engaged in as often as possible. I also did much scattering giving hearty approval to those that did the same, and even helped some others engage in unrighteousness.
American culture is covered with movies and stories that make light of wrongdoing palliating the potential consequences of unrighteous actions and painting the actions as fun and something to be sought.
Men like looking at women, I do. We are wired that way. God made women into some of the nicest eye candy a man can know. Men also like seducing women when they don't know better. I did. If a woman walks by a construction site she is usually met with "cat calls". Many of the men on the site give hearty approval to their buddies when they score on a date. It can be a game among them of who can score the most. Many may want to find that ultimate soulmate, but as they say, "when you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." Then life may throw curve balls at us. Things may not be as happy on the home front as they could or should be, and opportunity can come a man's way that may cause him to stray if he doesn't know better or have strong moral resolve. Even those that should have known better and should have had strong moral resolve have fallen. We call them hypocrites. It can all be complicated, and they who have disappointed us and not lived up to our expectations can become an excuse to not seek and choose the One that can make a real difference in our lives.
I worked with a flight nurse in the early nineties that was Barbie Doll pretty and is still an attractive woman. Her brother recently told me she has been married 6 or 7 times. He told me they all either cheated on her or beat on her. How sad...
I don't know all the details of her life, but I do know she would have preferred it had not been this way. My spiritual mentor when I was born again told me that I could never expect a relationship to workout unless I got things right with God first. My life's experience have proven the truth of his words to me. I value and love my wife tremendously, but not as much as I value and love my personal relationship with Jesus. He is the giver of all good gifts, and my wife is a very precious gift Jesus has allowed me to know.
One of the best analogies I've heard relating to sex is the comparison of sex to a fire. Fire in a fireplace or a wood stove with a glass door is beautiful, comforting, warm, and serves a useful purpose. Likewise sex in the marriage bed, untainted by the things that can spoil or ruin it, does all the same and more. Take that same fire out of the fireplace or wood stove and put it on the living room couch, and it can become extremely destructive. Likewise, sex out of the marriage bed can also be extremely destructive.
Anyhow... When I was a military instructor pilot at Fort Rucker, Alabama in the late seventies before I was born again I hooked up with an enlisted WAC that worked in a control tower at one of the stage fields I flew at with one of my Army buddies. Visiting my buddy in the tower, I met this WAC. This Army buddy had a real pleasant personality and was a good guy. He was married, but we mutually enjoyed the eye candy that passed us when we were together which is common for many men. I can't remember what brought the WAC and I together for a tryst, but I do remember that she started showing up at my BOQ on a regular basis. I enjoyed playing the field hoping to eventually encounter that ultimate soulmate, and I didn't consider this WAC her. So many times when I had an illicit affair, my heart would flip soon after the initial score and I was soon ready to pursue new conquests. Every now and then one would come along that I liked spending more time with, but something or other would happen to mess it up. I was ready to get this WAC off my back so I could be free to play the field more. My Army buddy was an easy and available mark.
I talked to the WAC about him. He was the tower supervisor she worked in and her superior. She felt he was off limits though he did hold an appeal to her. I knew my buddy liked women even though he was married. I didn't know his wife at that time. I encouraged the WAC to make a move on him telling her she might be surprised. She was fairly aggressive which I knew since she'd show up at my place so many times uninvited. Well she did make a move on my buddy at my encouragement, and he did take advantage of the opportunity that plopped in his lap.
Sometime after that I then ended up being born again and eventually getting out of the Army in 1979. In 1982 I went to work for the government contractor that supplied civilian instructor pilots for the Army. I became an instrument instructor pilot. My old Army buddy had retired from the Army and became a primary instructor pilot for the same company. We reestablished contact. When I got married in November of 83 my wife and I visited my old buddy and even met his wife. His wife loved him. I shared my testimony and how I had changed. Before leaving this job we visited my buddy with my toddler daughter, Joanna. My buddy's daughter who was twelve at that time gave Joanna a toy cow that mooed. I attempted to share Jesus and gather rather than scatter to make up for some of my past scattering.
It is not always easy for people to come to Jesus for one reason or another, and my buddy was comfortable in his lifestyle. I eventually left that job and lost contact with my buddy again.
In the early nineties I worked with a male flight nurse that knew my old Army buddy someway or another. This flight nurse quit my company and went to work for another company in Springfield, Missouri. I think Springfield was his home town. Anyhow I stopped in to visit him once at his new place of work and he told me that my old Army buddy was fixing to take a trip to Springfield for a vacation. Springfield was evidently his hometown too. I gave the nurse my home phone number and told him to tell my old Army buddy to give me a call when he showed up.
I never got that phone call. Several weeks later I was back in Springfield and stopped in to see the nurse I had worked with. I asked him about my old Army buddy. He said, "Before (my buddy's name) made it up here on vacation, his girl friend caught him cheating and shot him in the head killing him dead."
My old Army buddy was still married to a wife that loved him in spite of his faults. He had a daughter that loved him dearly. It wasn't his wife that shot him, but a girl friend because he was cheating with another girl. I don't know for sure, but the girlfriend could quite possibly have been the WAC I caused to hook up with my friend. Though my friend liked looking at the eye candy back when we were in the Army together I don't know that he had ever cheated on his wife before I set the aggressive WAC on him. My shame is incredible. If I could only take back what I had done, I would. This is an extreme case of scattering going wrong, but all scattering has harmful effects. Some of the harmful effects we may never come to know about as we go on with our lives, but for certain our scattering can easily be a link in the chain that causes harm. Even though it may have seemed fun at the time, God wanted me to personally know the harm I helped cause. I now hate scattering with the utmost hatred regardless of the fun and entertainment it may have provided once in my life. Unfortunately I can't take this back. I would trade places with my buddy if it were possible. I deserve to be where he is, not him. All I can do now is my best to never scatter again. I now choose to gather as the opportunities present themselves.
"He who is not with Me is against Me; and he who does not gather with Me scatters."
Matthew 12:30
If you don't have a personal relationship with Jesus, please consider inviting Him into your heart to be the Lord of your life. It is a choice I have never regretted and only wish I had made it sooner.
If you do have a personal relationship with Jesus that needs strengthening, ask Him to cause the growth that strengthens. If He can do it for me, He can and will do it for you.
Ciao!
WARNING! This story is not pretty and does not have a happy outcome.
It is a tale of scattering
that takes you to the end result
which was very sad for me.
I told the story of the journey that took me to a point of decision where I was born again here. Before I was born again I led a rather wild life where promiscuity and drunkenness were the two major sins I willingly engaged in as often as possible. I also did much scattering giving hearty approval to those that did the same, and even helped some others engage in unrighteousness.
American culture is covered with movies and stories that make light of wrongdoing palliating the potential consequences of unrighteous actions and painting the actions as fun and something to be sought.
Men like looking at women, I do. We are wired that way. God made women into some of the nicest eye candy a man can know. Men also like seducing women when they don't know better. I did. If a woman walks by a construction site she is usually met with "cat calls". Many of the men on the site give hearty approval to their buddies when they score on a date. It can be a game among them of who can score the most. Many may want to find that ultimate soulmate, but as they say, "when you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." Then life may throw curve balls at us. Things may not be as happy on the home front as they could or should be, and opportunity can come a man's way that may cause him to stray if he doesn't know better or have strong moral resolve. Even those that should have known better and should have had strong moral resolve have fallen. We call them hypocrites. It can all be complicated, and they who have disappointed us and not lived up to our expectations can become an excuse to not seek and choose the One that can make a real difference in our lives.
I worked with a flight nurse in the early nineties that was Barbie Doll pretty and is still an attractive woman. Her brother recently told me she has been married 6 or 7 times. He told me they all either cheated on her or beat on her. How sad...
I don't know all the details of her life, but I do know she would have preferred it had not been this way. My spiritual mentor when I was born again told me that I could never expect a relationship to workout unless I got things right with God first. My life's experience have proven the truth of his words to me. I value and love my wife tremendously, but not as much as I value and love my personal relationship with Jesus. He is the giver of all good gifts, and my wife is a very precious gift Jesus has allowed me to know.
One of the best analogies I've heard relating to sex is the comparison of sex to a fire. Fire in a fireplace or a wood stove with a glass door is beautiful, comforting, warm, and serves a useful purpose. Likewise sex in the marriage bed, untainted by the things that can spoil or ruin it, does all the same and more. Take that same fire out of the fireplace or wood stove and put it on the living room couch, and it can become extremely destructive. Likewise, sex out of the marriage bed can also be extremely destructive.
Anyhow... When I was a military instructor pilot at Fort Rucker, Alabama in the late seventies before I was born again I hooked up with an enlisted WAC that worked in a control tower at one of the stage fields I flew at with one of my Army buddies. Visiting my buddy in the tower, I met this WAC. This Army buddy had a real pleasant personality and was a good guy. He was married, but we mutually enjoyed the eye candy that passed us when we were together which is common for many men. I can't remember what brought the WAC and I together for a tryst, but I do remember that she started showing up at my BOQ on a regular basis. I enjoyed playing the field hoping to eventually encounter that ultimate soulmate, and I didn't consider this WAC her. So many times when I had an illicit affair, my heart would flip soon after the initial score and I was soon ready to pursue new conquests. Every now and then one would come along that I liked spending more time with, but something or other would happen to mess it up. I was ready to get this WAC off my back so I could be free to play the field more. My Army buddy was an easy and available mark.
I talked to the WAC about him. He was the tower supervisor she worked in and her superior. She felt he was off limits though he did hold an appeal to her. I knew my buddy liked women even though he was married. I didn't know his wife at that time. I encouraged the WAC to make a move on him telling her she might be surprised. She was fairly aggressive which I knew since she'd show up at my place so many times uninvited. Well she did make a move on my buddy at my encouragement, and he did take advantage of the opportunity that plopped in his lap.
Sometime after that I then ended up being born again and eventually getting out of the Army in 1979. In 1982 I went to work for the government contractor that supplied civilian instructor pilots for the Army. I became an instrument instructor pilot. My old Army buddy had retired from the Army and became a primary instructor pilot for the same company. We reestablished contact. When I got married in November of 83 my wife and I visited my old buddy and even met his wife. His wife loved him. I shared my testimony and how I had changed. Before leaving this job we visited my buddy with my toddler daughter, Joanna. My buddy's daughter who was twelve at that time gave Joanna a toy cow that mooed. I attempted to share Jesus and gather rather than scatter to make up for some of my past scattering.
It is not always easy for people to come to Jesus for one reason or another, and my buddy was comfortable in his lifestyle. I eventually left that job and lost contact with my buddy again.
In the early nineties I worked with a male flight nurse that knew my old Army buddy someway or another. This flight nurse quit my company and went to work for another company in Springfield, Missouri. I think Springfield was his home town. Anyhow I stopped in to visit him once at his new place of work and he told me that my old Army buddy was fixing to take a trip to Springfield for a vacation. Springfield was evidently his hometown too. I gave the nurse my home phone number and told him to tell my old Army buddy to give me a call when he showed up.
I never got that phone call. Several weeks later I was back in Springfield and stopped in to see the nurse I had worked with. I asked him about my old Army buddy. He said, "Before (my buddy's name) made it up here on vacation, his girl friend caught him cheating and shot him in the head killing him dead."
My old Army buddy was still married to a wife that loved him in spite of his faults. He had a daughter that loved him dearly. It wasn't his wife that shot him, but a girl friend because he was cheating with another girl. I don't know for sure, but the girlfriend could quite possibly have been the WAC I caused to hook up with my friend. Though my friend liked looking at the eye candy back when we were in the Army together I don't know that he had ever cheated on his wife before I set the aggressive WAC on him. My shame is incredible. If I could only take back what I had done, I would. This is an extreme case of scattering going wrong, but all scattering has harmful effects. Some of the harmful effects we may never come to know about as we go on with our lives, but for certain our scattering can easily be a link in the chain that causes harm. Even though it may have seemed fun at the time, God wanted me to personally know the harm I helped cause. I now hate scattering with the utmost hatred regardless of the fun and entertainment it may have provided once in my life. Unfortunately I can't take this back. I would trade places with my buddy if it were possible. I deserve to be where he is, not him. All I can do now is my best to never scatter again. I now choose to gather as the opportunities present themselves.
"He who is not with Me is against Me; and he who does not gather with Me scatters."
Matthew 12:30
If you don't have a personal relationship with Jesus, please consider inviting Him into your heart to be the Lord of your life. It is a choice I have never regretted and only wish I had made it sooner.
If you do have a personal relationship with Jesus that needs strengthening, ask Him to cause the growth that strengthens. If He can do it for me, He can and will do it for you.
Ciao!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
