In grade school and in high school, my teachers regularly complained to my parents that I "did not participate", did not do my work, came to class unprepared, and did not perform to potential.
Sometimes when I did "participate" or try to perform to "my potential", I was told that I should sit down and shut up because I wanted to talk about something that was not under discussion at the moment. On one occasion, a nun told me that I was wrong about something, and, when I looked it up in a dictionary and tried to show her that I was right, she refused to admit that I had been right and she had been wrong.
I learned that I was smart but not very good at learning, at least not in a classroom setting. I learned that most people did not want to hear what I had to say, especially if I was right.
I also figured out that I wasn't the usual student.
Eventually, I wound up in the army and they decided that I was smart enough to go to the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California to learn German (1966-67). It was great being in Monterey, but the learning part was hell. I managed to get through, but was lousy at German. Just barely passed.
One German instructor, Herr Porzig, a one-armed Prussian, often said to me, "Du bist faul, Herr Baldwin. Du bist faul." when I did not have my assignments memorized to his level of expectations.
I don't know what I could have done if things had turned out differently, but I do know that a few days ago, a doctor diagnosed me, at age 65, as having ADHD, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, a condition which can cause great difficulties in learning. It can be traced back to my childhood, and I have wondered for years but never discussed it with a professional.
I just assumed that everybody was right...I was a dreamer and somehow just lazy, even tho' I have received several awards for my actions over the years.
The doctor put me on a low dose of medication (Adderall) for ADHD, and I have noticed almost immediately that my mind is clearer and my reaction to life is more definite and certain.
Herr Porzig died a few years ago, I hear. I wish I could tell him, and several nuns, that maybe I wasn't just lazy.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Recent Diagnosis Explains a Lot
I have been meaning to ask a doctor about a particular condition for years, but always forgot. That was part of the problem. I forgot a lot of things...all my life. I hated being in classrooms even tho' I loved learning. I would zone out of important meetings, even interviews, in just a few minutes. I started project after project and the next day couldn't even remember what I had intended to do.
I once had to explain to my first wife why the garbage can was in the bedroom. I was taking out the garbage and something else captured my attention. I forgot about the garbage can until she brought it to my attention!
Long talk with the Doctor, tentative diagnosis...ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). She started me on Adderall. I began with the first dose yesterday. It took a few hours, but, for most of the day, I felt more awake, aware, alert....and focused, than I could remember ever being, at least consistenly, since first grade.
Wish I could have gone through grade school, high school, and college feeling like this (took my second dose about an hour ago). I probably would have graduated from FSU rather than flunking out due to lack of interest. Well, if that had happened, I would not have met the woman I love. Just wish I could have had both worlds.
I once had to explain to my first wife why the garbage can was in the bedroom. I was taking out the garbage and something else captured my attention. I forgot about the garbage can until she brought it to my attention!
Long talk with the Doctor, tentative diagnosis...ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). She started me on Adderall. I began with the first dose yesterday. It took a few hours, but, for most of the day, I felt more awake, aware, alert....and focused, than I could remember ever being, at least consistenly, since first grade.
Wish I could have gone through grade school, high school, and college feeling like this (took my second dose about an hour ago). I probably would have graduated from FSU rather than flunking out due to lack of interest. Well, if that had happened, I would not have met the woman I love. Just wish I could have had both worlds.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
My Sister's Grave
I often think of my sister, Katherine Elizabeth Baldwin. I guess that's a little strange because I never met her. She was born prematurely around 1950, and the methods for saving preemies that saved my grandson, Niko, were not available back then.
She was buried in St. John's cemetary in Warrington, Florida, in an unmarked grave, because my parents could not afford a headstone at that time.
I remember visiting the grave a few times with my parents. At first it was easy to find the small, child-sized mound of dirt which marked the spot where she was buried. With time, we had to search the area where we knew the grave to be to find vestiges of her resting place.
Eventually, nature took care of that and her grave could no longer be found.
I have often wondered what it would have meant to have a younger sister.
Being the only boy between two girls might have been a bother, but having someone else to take the heat of being the youngest kid in the family might have had some positive effect. On the other hand, middle kids often feel neglected.
Who's to say.
Anyway, at the age of 65, I miss this sister I never knew who would be about 60 years old herself. It would have been fun to watch her grow up and, at least for a while, be the older brother.
Oh well. Life does not always answer our desires.
However, if she could not live her own life and make her own friends, at least perhaps a few people might read this and know she passed this way. I'm sure she would have been a good sister.
She was buried in St. John's cemetary in Warrington, Florida, in an unmarked grave, because my parents could not afford a headstone at that time.
I remember visiting the grave a few times with my parents. At first it was easy to find the small, child-sized mound of dirt which marked the spot where she was buried. With time, we had to search the area where we knew the grave to be to find vestiges of her resting place.
Eventually, nature took care of that and her grave could no longer be found.
I have often wondered what it would have meant to have a younger sister.
Being the only boy between two girls might have been a bother, but having someone else to take the heat of being the youngest kid in the family might have had some positive effect. On the other hand, middle kids often feel neglected.
Who's to say.
Anyway, at the age of 65, I miss this sister I never knew who would be about 60 years old herself. It would have been fun to watch her grow up and, at least for a while, be the older brother.
Oh well. Life does not always answer our desires.
However, if she could not live her own life and make her own friends, at least perhaps a few people might read this and know she passed this way. I'm sure she would have been a good sister.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Lessons from the Army - The Motor Pool Walk
I was thinking about something this morning as I was writing a comment for my blog, Fitness After 40, and it triggered a new line of thought.
I was writing about safe driving for seniors, and that reminded me about when I was a truck driving instructor, then when I was a truck driver, and then when I was in the Army. That led me to the motor pool walk.
My wife and I call this a "rabbit trail". It's more representative of my thought process than hers as she's much more focused than I am, but we both realize that the subject is about to change when one of us looks at the other and says, "rabbit trail".
Anyway, in the Army, I spent a lot of time in motor pools, checking on equipment, training or supervising soldiers, or as an equipment operator myself. They can be dangerous places if you are not paying attention. That is why a company commander I served under, or perhaps it was a first sergeant, stressed what he called "the motor pool walk".
Basically, for safety's sake, you keep your head up, your eyes moving, and pay attention to all that is going on around you.
This was a good lesson for me in many aspects of army life, not just the motor pool. We did a lot of dangerous things, and simply paying attention was worth the effort when you consider the alternative!
Later, in the civilian world, I became a truck driver for a while and eventually a truck driving instructor. Once again, as I moved through equipment yards, strange facilities, truck stops, and even over the road, "heads up and eyes moving" was a good mantra.
When you read or listen to motivational speakers, they too often describe in their own way what I would define as "the motor pool walk". When we as soldiers had to move across an open area, some target or goal would be selected to walk towards, but it would still be necessary to look around to see what was going on and identify any potential threat or danger. The person looking at his or her feet was almost certain to veer off course and more likely to wander into a dangerous situation.
As I aged, I became aware that it was a little more difficult to walk, drive, even concentrate (although that has been an ongoing problem of mine since grade school). However, I reverted to consciously imposing "the motor pool walk" as a condition of any activity, and it helped immensely. I also learned that many seniors who are experiencing loss of balance often have a habit of looking down at the ground in front of them.
Not only does this hamper their ability to move safely and surely at the moment, but studies have also shown that it actually contributes to poor balance and more frequent falls. As the studies of mental exercise progress, it has become obvious to many researchers that keeping your head up, eyes moving, and thinking about what is going on around you actually helps the brain retain its ability to make decisions, problem solve, improve balance and keep you out of trouble.
It's amazing that one little lesson can last so long and have such a profound affect on one's life.
I was writing about safe driving for seniors, and that reminded me about when I was a truck driving instructor, then when I was a truck driver, and then when I was in the Army. That led me to the motor pool walk.
My wife and I call this a "rabbit trail". It's more representative of my thought process than hers as she's much more focused than I am, but we both realize that the subject is about to change when one of us looks at the other and says, "rabbit trail".
Anyway, in the Army, I spent a lot of time in motor pools, checking on equipment, training or supervising soldiers, or as an equipment operator myself. They can be dangerous places if you are not paying attention. That is why a company commander I served under, or perhaps it was a first sergeant, stressed what he called "the motor pool walk".
Basically, for safety's sake, you keep your head up, your eyes moving, and pay attention to all that is going on around you.
This was a good lesson for me in many aspects of army life, not just the motor pool. We did a lot of dangerous things, and simply paying attention was worth the effort when you consider the alternative!
Later, in the civilian world, I became a truck driver for a while and eventually a truck driving instructor. Once again, as I moved through equipment yards, strange facilities, truck stops, and even over the road, "heads up and eyes moving" was a good mantra.
When you read or listen to motivational speakers, they too often describe in their own way what I would define as "the motor pool walk". When we as soldiers had to move across an open area, some target or goal would be selected to walk towards, but it would still be necessary to look around to see what was going on and identify any potential threat or danger. The person looking at his or her feet was almost certain to veer off course and more likely to wander into a dangerous situation.
As I aged, I became aware that it was a little more difficult to walk, drive, even concentrate (although that has been an ongoing problem of mine since grade school). However, I reverted to consciously imposing "the motor pool walk" as a condition of any activity, and it helped immensely. I also learned that many seniors who are experiencing loss of balance often have a habit of looking down at the ground in front of them.
Not only does this hamper their ability to move safely and surely at the moment, but studies have also shown that it actually contributes to poor balance and more frequent falls. As the studies of mental exercise progress, it has become obvious to many researchers that keeping your head up, eyes moving, and thinking about what is going on around you actually helps the brain retain its ability to make decisions, problem solve, improve balance and keep you out of trouble.
It's amazing that one little lesson can last so long and have such a profound affect on one's life.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Lou and the Shelf Stretcher
In the early 60's, before I went in the Army, and in the late 60's, after I got out, I worked for Delchamps grocery in Pensacola.
After I got back from the Army, the Delchamps folks took me back and put me on the night stock crew at their Mobile Highway store, out near the Circle. Shortly after I started, the stock crew chief, Larry Poole, took a transfer to another store, and I became night stock crew chief. It was while working there that I took part in one of the few practical jokes I ever helped pull.
Since night stock crew only took a few hours a week, most of the night crew, including myself, worked stock during the days to make our 40 hours. I often worked with a guy named Doug. Doug was, well, to put it mildly, a little nuts.
One day a new bagboy was hired. His name was Lou, and you couldn't hope to meet a nicer guy, but he was naive. To the bagboys, stockers were a step up the food chain anyway and a couple of steps short of management.
One day, the manager, Kenneth McLemore, also a nice guy, but not the least bit naive, was out of the store for a few minutes. As Doug and I walked up to the front, we noticed Lou bagging groceries for a lady. We were in the elevated office with a clear view of the checkout. Doug picked up the microphone and paged, "Lou. Come to the office when you're finished."
Lou came up right away, and Doug said, "Lou, I noticed you put the eggs and tomatoes on the top of the bags. They might fall out and get broken. You need to put them in the bottom of the bag and put a couple of things on top to make sure they stay in."
Lou listened intently, but with a confused look on his face. "I thought we weren't supposed to do it the way I did it!"
Doug asked angrily, "Are you questioning me?"
Lou immediately said, "No, Doug. I guess I was confused."
He went back down to help another customer. I watched him while Doug looked for some supplies. Finally I picked up the microphone and paged, "Lou. Please report to the office, now."
Doug looked up. "Now what?"
I replied, "He put tomatos in the bottom of the bag and was putting cans on top...just like YOU told him. If Kenneth finds out...."
Just then, Lou came back into the office. Doug explained that he had just been joking, and told Lou to go back and fix the lady's bag. Lou came back over and he started explaining how we knew so much and he was still trying to learn everything. He went on to say that he wished that he could get off the front and help us work stock.
Doug looked at him and then winked at me.
"Lou, do you want to help us out?"
Lou nodded.
"Well, Don and I need to set up a display up front here, but we need a shelf stretcher. Would you go in the back and get us one?"
Lou was off like a shot. He was back in a few minutes, with a worried look on his face.
"I looked all over the stockroom," he said, "but I couldn't find anything that looked like one."
Here came my contribution,
"Hey, I think I saw it back in the incinerator room."
Back in those days, we burned the excess boxes and other garbage.
Lou headed towards the back again.
Now, it was Summer in Florida, and we had used the incinerator that morning, so the incinerator room was sweltering AND FILTHY! You could not move in there without getting soot all over yourself, and we wore white shirts!
While Lou was in the back, the store manager, Kenneth McLemore, came in the front door. Kenneth always wore a gold blazer and looked starched and neat. He had worked his way up from bagboy to store manager, and he was a great guy, but he ran a tight ship...no nonsense.
We were ready to split to the back and pull Lou off the hunt for a shelf stretcher, but Kenneth caught us by surprise.
"What are you guys doing hanging around up front?"
Before we could answer, Lou came up, red-faced, dripping sweat, and with soot all over his clothes, face, and hands.
"What's going on?" asked Kenneth with a little edge in his voice and a slightly brittle smile on his face.
Before we could answer, eager Lou piped up, "I was helping Doug and Don set up a display. They asked me to find a shelf stretcher for them." All this with a happy smile on his face.
Kenneth looked at Doug, looked at me, back at Doug, and said, "Come up to my office, now!"
The jig was up. Kenneth was going to fry us. Doug, Lou, and I began to follow him. Suddenly he stopped, turned to Lou and said, "Lou, the reason you couldn't find a shelf stretcher in the back was because I lent it to the manager of the Red and White Grocery by the McDonald's on Navy Boulevard. Do you have your car here?"
Lou nodded.
"Okay," said Kenneth, "I want you to drive down to the Red and White and tell the manager we want our shelf stretcher back. He was supposed to return it last month. Make sure you let him know how mad I am that he didn't return it."
Lou nodded again and bolted out the door, a man (boy) with a mission.
Kenneth headed for the office with us in tow.
"I'm going to get you guys for this!" but he was smiling.
He pulled out the phone book, found the number to Red and White, and called. He asked for the manager, and once he got him on the phone, briefed him on what was going on.
After hanging up, he turned to us and said, "He's going to give Lou a hard time and will call us back."
A few minutes later the phone rang, and Kenneth talked to the caller for a while. It was obvious that it was the other store manager with his report.
After he hung up, he said, "Lou got there and gave him my message and he told Lou to tell me that I was crazy and that he had returned the shelf stretcher weeks ago. He added a few obscene remarks about me and Delchamps and told Lou to get the hell out of his store.
A few minutes later, Lou pulled back into the parking lot and rushed into the store with a woeful but angry look on his face. Lou was a good guy, and somebody like that talking that way about Kenneth and Delchamps really upset him.
Kenneth played with him for a couple more minutes and then let him in on what had happened. At first, Lou was upset, but after a while, he began to talk about how the joke had been on him.
Several years later, I stopped at a Delchamps store in Gulf Breeze (now known as Bruno's), and the manager was, you guessed it, Lou. Delchamps went out of business several years ago, and I don't know where anybody is that I used to work with, but I can still see everybody's face as Lou walked up covered with soot, eager as a puppy, as Kenneth realized what was going on.
After I got back from the Army, the Delchamps folks took me back and put me on the night stock crew at their Mobile Highway store, out near the Circle. Shortly after I started, the stock crew chief, Larry Poole, took a transfer to another store, and I became night stock crew chief. It was while working there that I took part in one of the few practical jokes I ever helped pull.
Since night stock crew only took a few hours a week, most of the night crew, including myself, worked stock during the days to make our 40 hours. I often worked with a guy named Doug. Doug was, well, to put it mildly, a little nuts.
One day a new bagboy was hired. His name was Lou, and you couldn't hope to meet a nicer guy, but he was naive. To the bagboys, stockers were a step up the food chain anyway and a couple of steps short of management.
One day, the manager, Kenneth McLemore, also a nice guy, but not the least bit naive, was out of the store for a few minutes. As Doug and I walked up to the front, we noticed Lou bagging groceries for a lady. We were in the elevated office with a clear view of the checkout. Doug picked up the microphone and paged, "Lou. Come to the office when you're finished."
Lou came up right away, and Doug said, "Lou, I noticed you put the eggs and tomatoes on the top of the bags. They might fall out and get broken. You need to put them in the bottom of the bag and put a couple of things on top to make sure they stay in."
Lou listened intently, but with a confused look on his face. "I thought we weren't supposed to do it the way I did it!"
Doug asked angrily, "Are you questioning me?"
Lou immediately said, "No, Doug. I guess I was confused."
He went back down to help another customer. I watched him while Doug looked for some supplies. Finally I picked up the microphone and paged, "Lou. Please report to the office, now."
Doug looked up. "Now what?"
I replied, "He put tomatos in the bottom of the bag and was putting cans on top...just like YOU told him. If Kenneth finds out...."
Just then, Lou came back into the office. Doug explained that he had just been joking, and told Lou to go back and fix the lady's bag. Lou came back over and he started explaining how we knew so much and he was still trying to learn everything. He went on to say that he wished that he could get off the front and help us work stock.
Doug looked at him and then winked at me.
"Lou, do you want to help us out?"
Lou nodded.
"Well, Don and I need to set up a display up front here, but we need a shelf stretcher. Would you go in the back and get us one?"
Lou was off like a shot. He was back in a few minutes, with a worried look on his face.
"I looked all over the stockroom," he said, "but I couldn't find anything that looked like one."
Here came my contribution,
"Hey, I think I saw it back in the incinerator room."
Back in those days, we burned the excess boxes and other garbage.
Lou headed towards the back again.
Now, it was Summer in Florida, and we had used the incinerator that morning, so the incinerator room was sweltering AND FILTHY! You could not move in there without getting soot all over yourself, and we wore white shirts!
While Lou was in the back, the store manager, Kenneth McLemore, came in the front door. Kenneth always wore a gold blazer and looked starched and neat. He had worked his way up from bagboy to store manager, and he was a great guy, but he ran a tight ship...no nonsense.
We were ready to split to the back and pull Lou off the hunt for a shelf stretcher, but Kenneth caught us by surprise.
"What are you guys doing hanging around up front?"
Before we could answer, Lou came up, red-faced, dripping sweat, and with soot all over his clothes, face, and hands.
"What's going on?" asked Kenneth with a little edge in his voice and a slightly brittle smile on his face.
Before we could answer, eager Lou piped up, "I was helping Doug and Don set up a display. They asked me to find a shelf stretcher for them." All this with a happy smile on his face.
Kenneth looked at Doug, looked at me, back at Doug, and said, "Come up to my office, now!"
The jig was up. Kenneth was going to fry us. Doug, Lou, and I began to follow him. Suddenly he stopped, turned to Lou and said, "Lou, the reason you couldn't find a shelf stretcher in the back was because I lent it to the manager of the Red and White Grocery by the McDonald's on Navy Boulevard. Do you have your car here?"
Lou nodded.
"Okay," said Kenneth, "I want you to drive down to the Red and White and tell the manager we want our shelf stretcher back. He was supposed to return it last month. Make sure you let him know how mad I am that he didn't return it."
Lou nodded again and bolted out the door, a man (boy) with a mission.
Kenneth headed for the office with us in tow.
"I'm going to get you guys for this!" but he was smiling.
He pulled out the phone book, found the number to Red and White, and called. He asked for the manager, and once he got him on the phone, briefed him on what was going on.
After hanging up, he turned to us and said, "He's going to give Lou a hard time and will call us back."
A few minutes later the phone rang, and Kenneth talked to the caller for a while. It was obvious that it was the other store manager with his report.
After he hung up, he said, "Lou got there and gave him my message and he told Lou to tell me that I was crazy and that he had returned the shelf stretcher weeks ago. He added a few obscene remarks about me and Delchamps and told Lou to get the hell out of his store.
A few minutes later, Lou pulled back into the parking lot and rushed into the store with a woeful but angry look on his face. Lou was a good guy, and somebody like that talking that way about Kenneth and Delchamps really upset him.
Kenneth played with him for a couple more minutes and then let him in on what had happened. At first, Lou was upset, but after a while, he began to talk about how the joke had been on him.
Several years later, I stopped at a Delchamps store in Gulf Breeze (now known as Bruno's), and the manager was, you guessed it, Lou. Delchamps went out of business several years ago, and I don't know where anybody is that I used to work with, but I can still see everybody's face as Lou walked up covered with soot, eager as a puppy, as Kenneth realized what was going on.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Did I Really See a Ghost at the Winchester Mystery House?
Okay, I give up. I've been trying to get started on this for days, but each time, I come up with the same problem. My logical mind says to start at the begining, but my freewheeling mind says, "No way, Bubba!"
I simply will not be able to make this chronological, so the stories will come as they come...no sequence, rhyme, or reason. One time we may be in 2007, as today, and the next we may be reviewing my parents' lives in the late 1930's...or earlier.
Anyway, in April, 2007, my wife and I took a trip in our Prius Hybrid from Texas to California and back. We were gone for three weeks and visited friends and family and went to places we had wanted to see.
One of these places was the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California.
We took the standard tour, which is done with a group of people who are led through the home of Sarah Winchester and given little talks by the guide at various points.
Our group was small, and within a few minutes, I had a pretty good handle on who was with us. Everybody was normal, except possibly me, and nobody stood out.
At one stop, we were gathered around the guide, listening to his presentation. As I glanced over the small group, I noticed a lady standing on the outer edge of the other side of the semicircle we had formed. She caught my eye because I had not noticed her before, and her appearance really should have caught my attention earlier.
She was very short, as was Sarah Winchester. She was an older woman with a round, ruddy face, and she was wearing a brimmed flat hat such as I had often seen women wearing in pictures from the late 1890's and early 1900's when they were outside...gardening, perhaps. It looked a little like Zorro's sombrero.
I gazed at her for a moment, wondering why I had not noticed her before. I glanced back up at the guide, and then looked back at her....
She was gone.
There was no exit she could have gotten to in the couple of seconds I had looked away, yet when I had seen her, she was as real in appearance as anyone else in the group.
I did not tell my wife about her until after the tour, and she is certain that I saw a ghost...probably of Sarah Winchester herself.
Me? I have no idea. It's just something which happened to me on my journey through the universe.
Did I see a ghost? I personally don't believe in them, but acknowledge that I have no corner on wisdom and knowledge.
What do you think?
I simply will not be able to make this chronological, so the stories will come as they come...no sequence, rhyme, or reason. One time we may be in 2007, as today, and the next we may be reviewing my parents' lives in the late 1930's...or earlier.
Anyway, in April, 2007, my wife and I took a trip in our Prius Hybrid from Texas to California and back. We were gone for three weeks and visited friends and family and went to places we had wanted to see.
One of these places was the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California.
We took the standard tour, which is done with a group of people who are led through the home of Sarah Winchester and given little talks by the guide at various points.
Our group was small, and within a few minutes, I had a pretty good handle on who was with us. Everybody was normal, except possibly me, and nobody stood out.
At one stop, we were gathered around the guide, listening to his presentation. As I glanced over the small group, I noticed a lady standing on the outer edge of the other side of the semicircle we had formed. She caught my eye because I had not noticed her before, and her appearance really should have caught my attention earlier.
She was very short, as was Sarah Winchester. She was an older woman with a round, ruddy face, and she was wearing a brimmed flat hat such as I had often seen women wearing in pictures from the late 1890's and early 1900's when they were outside...gardening, perhaps. It looked a little like Zorro's sombrero.
I gazed at her for a moment, wondering why I had not noticed her before. I glanced back up at the guide, and then looked back at her....
She was gone.
There was no exit she could have gotten to in the couple of seconds I had looked away, yet when I had seen her, she was as real in appearance as anyone else in the group.
I did not tell my wife about her until after the tour, and she is certain that I saw a ghost...probably of Sarah Winchester herself.
Me? I have no idea. It's just something which happened to me on my journey through the universe.
Did I see a ghost? I personally don't believe in them, but acknowledge that I have no corner on wisdom and knowledge.
What do you think?
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Looking Back - With Google Earth
My wife and I both have itchy feet. Mine are itchier than hers, and probably smell kinda funky too!
That's probably why the two jobs I have enjoyed the most in my entire life were soldier and truck driver.
I know, the guys from the Florida Jobs office, whatever it was called back in 1962 came out and gave us all kinds of tests at Pensacola Catholic High. They told me I had an aptitude with words, but should stay away from anything that required manual dexterity.
I can't say that they were wrong, because as much as I prefer doing things that require activity, at least as opposed to sitting in an office behind a desk, I tend to bang myself up more than others around me doing the same thing that I am.
I even cut my finger on an orange peel the other day...but that's another (very short) story.
As a soldier, I have done, as the saying went, "more before 9AM than most people do all day". In fact, sometimes I did so much for such a prolonged period that I could not have told you which day it was!
By the way, there was only one time in my life that I not only did not know what day it was but whether it was morning or evening, and that was January 1, 1967. I had only been in Germany for a few months and spent the night at the NCO club drinking champagne and German beer. When I got back to the barracks, someone challenged me to chug cheap German rum out of a bottle down to a mark they had put on the label.
The rest is history, but for for the next couple of years, we could point out the dent in the wall locker where my head hit.
Anyway, back to my life in the woods and on the open road.
I probably enjoyed being a truck driver more than being a soldier, and both beat the hell out of being an accountant...which a piece of paper from the University of West Florida says I am!
So anyway, my wife has gotten hooked on Google earth, and this afternoon, we toured Monterey, California. We tooled along 17-Mile Drive, and looked at the Robert Louis Stevenson house. Then we went over to Carmel and tried to find Lulu's House of Silk, a great little shop we went into in 2007, the last time we went out there.
We used to drive for Schneider, so, since we were in Califonia, we took the Google Earth express over to Fontana, California and looked at the Schneider operating center we had been in and out of so many times. We discovered the dinky little truck stop on the corner where we used to weigh our loads was now a sleek and shiny truck stop, but Cherry truck sales is still on the corner diagonally accross from Schneider.
I took a quick Google trip over to Germany, to Bad Aibling, and looked for the barracks where I used to live (67 to 70), where the aformentioned falling down thing happened. As usual, one memory revives another, and I can remember....
The Rabid Hedgehog - don't ask
Beer Deliveries
The Girl I Loved Madly Who Worked in the Snack Bar - but did not speak English...or German
The Count, or Graf, Riding His Horse Around the Perimeter of the Post
The Mad Bull
The Kriechbaumer Gasthaus
The Only True Case of Levitation I Ever Saw
The German Cop with the Machine Gun
The Spinout in the Gym Parking Lot
The Upside-Down Car (x2)
And all those nights at the NCO Club....I wonder what ever happened to Sascha and the Metronomes!
And other things.
That's probably why the two jobs I have enjoyed the most in my entire life were soldier and truck driver.
I know, the guys from the Florida Jobs office, whatever it was called back in 1962 came out and gave us all kinds of tests at Pensacola Catholic High. They told me I had an aptitude with words, but should stay away from anything that required manual dexterity.
I can't say that they were wrong, because as much as I prefer doing things that require activity, at least as opposed to sitting in an office behind a desk, I tend to bang myself up more than others around me doing the same thing that I am.
I even cut my finger on an orange peel the other day...but that's another (very short) story.
As a soldier, I have done, as the saying went, "more before 9AM than most people do all day". In fact, sometimes I did so much for such a prolonged period that I could not have told you which day it was!
By the way, there was only one time in my life that I not only did not know what day it was but whether it was morning or evening, and that was January 1, 1967. I had only been in Germany for a few months and spent the night at the NCO club drinking champagne and German beer. When I got back to the barracks, someone challenged me to chug cheap German rum out of a bottle down to a mark they had put on the label.
The rest is history, but for for the next couple of years, we could point out the dent in the wall locker where my head hit.
Anyway, back to my life in the woods and on the open road.
I probably enjoyed being a truck driver more than being a soldier, and both beat the hell out of being an accountant...which a piece of paper from the University of West Florida says I am!
So anyway, my wife has gotten hooked on Google earth, and this afternoon, we toured Monterey, California. We tooled along 17-Mile Drive, and looked at the Robert Louis Stevenson house. Then we went over to Carmel and tried to find Lulu's House of Silk, a great little shop we went into in 2007, the last time we went out there.
We used to drive for Schneider, so, since we were in Califonia, we took the Google Earth express over to Fontana, California and looked at the Schneider operating center we had been in and out of so many times. We discovered the dinky little truck stop on the corner where we used to weigh our loads was now a sleek and shiny truck stop, but Cherry truck sales is still on the corner diagonally accross from Schneider.
I took a quick Google trip over to Germany, to Bad Aibling, and looked for the barracks where I used to live (67 to 70), where the aformentioned falling down thing happened. As usual, one memory revives another, and I can remember....
The Rabid Hedgehog - don't ask
Beer Deliveries
The Girl I Loved Madly Who Worked in the Snack Bar - but did not speak English...or German
The Count, or Graf, Riding His Horse Around the Perimeter of the Post
The Mad Bull
The Kriechbaumer Gasthaus
The Only True Case of Levitation I Ever Saw
The German Cop with the Machine Gun
The Spinout in the Gym Parking Lot
The Upside-Down Car (x2)
And all those nights at the NCO Club....I wonder what ever happened to Sascha and the Metronomes!
And other things.
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