Category Archives: Memories

One less Weed in the world

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In the wee hours of the morning, the storm escalated to include lightning and thunder claps seemingly right outside my window. It woke me up, and as I lay there in the darkness for some inexplicable reason, my mind took me back to high school and a girl I loved named Gail. Since I couldn’t get back to sleep anyway, I got up and consulted Google to try and learn more about how Gail’s life how turned out. Her internet footprint wasn’t very large, but the first result listed was this one:

Lavonne Gail (Weed) Midtgard, 64, passed away at Renown Regional Medical Center on September 20, 2021 after a three week battle with covid pneumonia. She was referred to as Gail to most everyone that knew her.

Lavonne was born May 16, 1957 in Santa Ana, California to James Doyle Weed and Ines Lou (Davis) Weed. She attended Westminster high school.

She moved to Sparks, Nevada in 1993 where she eventually found and married Bill the love of her life.

Lavonne was employed both as an administrator and manager at Lithia Motors until her retirement in 2016. She enjoyed sewing, crafting, and quilt making. She would always brighten up a room with her big smile and kind mannerism. Always ready to help whenever someone needed something done. Her and her husband Bill loved to travel, both by car, motorhome and cruise ship.

I checked my archives but couldn’t find any photos of Gail from those long-ago days we shared. I know I have (or had) some in a box somewhere stateside. This one from the obituary is how I remember her:

She was sweet and fun and always up for an adventure.

She looked a little different at the end of her life:

I wouldn’t have recognized her. I bet she had the same loving heart, though.

I mentioned Gail a couple of times on the blog, including this post about my arrest back in 1973 in Huntington Beach, California. Gail was present for that event. Gail was my second love in high school; her predecessor moved away before my senior year. Gail gifted me her virginity, and we shared some passionate times together. Naturally, I fucked things up with Gail by not making a clean break with the one who moved away. I would occasionally sneak down to San Diego to visit Karen, and for some reason, when Gail found out, she wasn’t cool with it. I guess that scenario sounds familiar, but hey, bad habits have to start somewhere. I really did hate losing Gail and realized once she was gone that I had fucked up. Try as I might, I could not win her back. Which led me to getting a community college classmate pregnant who eventually became my first wife. And the rest is history.

Anyone recognize what this is?
It is called a postcard. This is how people communicated from a distance in the days before email. Oh, and I used to go by my middle name in those days.

Yeah, I just opened up the memory box I do have here with me and found the postcard and some letters Gail had sent me while on vacation with her parents. One consistent theme in each was an entreaty for me to “be good.” One ended with this P.S.: “I’m being good, so would you please?! Reading Gail’s words of love was a sad reminder of how unworthy I’ve always been when someone has trusted me with her heart.

I also found a poem I wrote in those long ago years entitled “New Year’s Eve.” I can’t swear now that it was written with Gail in mind, but I suspect it was. Gail may have been my “second” love, but she was my first broken heart. I paid a hefty price for being unfaithful. Maybe I’m still paying today.

You never even took the time
To see what you were using
And you were shocked when you found out
It was you who did the losing

You never believed in the difference
Between what she felt and your dreams
Her feelings never mattered
You were busy with other things

And you really can't help looking back
Was it all just another game?
You pretend it doesn't matter
But you've never felt quite the same

Because this time there was something more
But you didn't realize it
And when you finally understood
You had already lost it

And when it is finally all over
Will you look at your life and be sad?
Will you remember the people and places
And the love you could have had?

--J.M. McCrarey

I’m sorry that I missed my chance with you, Gail, but I’m happy that it appears you lived a full and happy life. You may be gone, but you are not forgotten.

My closing song will be from another Gail memory. I don’t know why this one has stuck in my head for going on fifty years now, but it’s there. We were driving on a country road in my 1963 Ford pickup truck (technically my dad’s, but he was off at sea). I’m driving, my brother Greg is in the passenger seat, and Gail is riding in the middle. My truck has an 8-track tape player, and we’ve got Stealers Wheel blaring away. Gail was singing along, and when she got to the chorus line of: “clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right,” she’d gesture at me and my brother, seeing as how she was stuck in the middle. Good times!

A chance encounter on Memory Lane

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Don’t be dismayed by good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.

Richard bach

July 2010. I was scheduled to retire in September, so I traveled to the Philippines to start processing my retirement visa and look for a place to live. I did the visa paperwork in Angeles, then came to Barretto and stayed at the Arizona Resort. I had planned to be in Manila for the final couple of days to meet a gal I’d been chatting with online named Eva. And then, in the middle of the trip, everything changed. Forever. And last night, an event occurred that has me trying to remember what happened back then and why.

So, after the Sunday feeding at Hideaway, I went to The Green Room for my nightcap. I sat down and ordered my beer, and then an unfamiliar waitress approached and showed me her phone displaying the photo posted above, “Is that you?” she asked. I responded, yes, it is. Where did you get that? The waitress told me she used to work at Arizona and asked if I remembered her. I honestly told her that I did not. She gave me a few additional details about how and where we met (that’s her in the photo with me back in July of 2010), and it all started to come back to me in bits and pieces.

Her name is Anne. I met her in the Score Bar, which was on the premises at Arizona. I still don’t recall if I had barfined her (paid to have her spend the night with me) at some point during my visit, but the afternoon those pictures were taken, I was sitting in Arizona’s outdoor restaurant near the pool. I saw Anne and a couple of the other Score girls swimming and invited her to join me for lunch. I remember being sick during the trip as well. There is still a bit of a black hole as to what caused me to cancel the remainder of my stay and fly back to Korea earlier than scheduled. I recall that when I told Eva I wasn’t going to meet her in Manila after all, she cried.

Talking with Anne again last night, nearly thirteen years later, was almost surreal. It did help bring to mind my final evening of that fateful trip. I was in Score Bar and feeling ill. Anne was with me at my table. She could tell I was sick and offered to care for me that night, and I accepted. We both knew there would be no sex involved. But what I now remember was maybe the sweetest hours I’ve ever experienced with a Filipina–lying beside her while she rubbed my head and sang to me in a hauntingly beautiful voice until I fell asleep. It was magical.

We had breakfast the next morning, and then it was time for me to depart for the airport. As I hugged her goodbye, tears were streaming down her face. I guess we both knew we would never meet again. Until we did last night.

Nice to see you again, Anne. And thanks for the memories!

You may have noticed Anne’s pictures from all those years ago were from a photo album. I guess our meeting was important enough to her that she wanted to preserve the memory. The implications of that are a little too scary to contemplate, but it is touching. We are now friends on Facebook, and she sent me a couple more photos to refresh my memory.

What can I say? I have impeccable taste.
Some of the crew from Score Bar. It’s long gone now.

So, this morning I went on a quest for answers as to what happened and why. I figured I must have told the story here at LTG, but I was wrong about that. Back in those days, this blog wasn’t much of a diary. There is a bunch of political crap, dart league updates, and big gaps between posts. On July 21, 2010, I had this to say:

Anyway, I am a tad disconcerted right now but I’m going to see it through and wait until I get back home to decide what the hell to do.

But I’m good.

But the very next day, I posted this:

Not to worry, but I’ve got some kind of bug.  I played darts yesterday afternoon in the Subic league (went 2-2 but should have done better) then went back to the room and went to bed.  And stayed there for 14 hours (with occasional trips to the CR)

I didn’t post again until July 27, and that was about darts in Seoul, so I was home again by then. And then, on the 28th, I had this cryptic post:

Dreams die.

New dreams emerge.

It’s the freakin’ circle of life.

So, I have decided to postpone retirement until 2 January 2011. 

Time to work on Plan “B”.

What the hell was going on with me? I didn’t bother even to try and answer that question until August 20:

Fact is I do start feeling guilty when I don’t take care of business here at LTG.  I’ve just been pretty much without motivation for anything lately accept sitting on my lazy ass.   As I’ve speculated on why that might be the best I’ve come up with is that the uncertainty of my future has left me more than a little disconcerted.  And when I get to feeling this way, I tend to retreat and ignore.  Tantamount to putting my hands over my ears and screaming LA LA LA! at the top of my voice.

Anyway, I make it sound worse than it is.  It’s not like sitting on my lazy ass doing nothing is all that bad.  Still, there are things to be done and decisions to be made and at some point I need to get on with the doing and deciding.

As folks who care know, last months trip to the Philippines was not exactly a disaster, but it didn’t go as planned either.  Not only did I not find a suitable place to live, I came away questioning whether I wanted to live there period.  Which kinda sorta undermined the dream I’d been pursuing for these past several years.

Upon my return from that ill-fated trip I had to postpone my retirement date and recalibrate my future plans.  It was more than a little embarassing seeing as how my farewell luncheon had been scheduled and my replacement had been selected.

January 2, 2011 is the new big day.  And no excuses, I will no doubt about it, unquestionably, effectuate my retirement on that date.  I really mean it this time.

What I am going to do and where I will be on January 3, 2011 remains to be seen. 

Stay tuned.

Well, that certainly clears things up, doesn’t it? I couldn’t find anything else to document what occurred back then, so I’ll have to rely on my Biden-like memory. This is what I *think* happened.

I had been living with Jee Yeun since sometime in 2009. She was aware of my plans to retire and live in the Philippines. She said she wanted to stay with me until I left. I agreed. The trip I made to the PI in July 2010 was in final preparation for my move after my September retirement. Looking back now, I think Jee Yeun had somehow found out about Eva and went nuts, calling me and crying her heart out. As noted above, I had been sick and was also disappointed that I hadn’t found suitable housing. And I think maybe Jee Yeun’s pleadings made me realize that she truly loved me and caused me to reevaluate my feelings for her. Anyway, something in me snapped, and I just decided to take a step back and reconsider my options.

So, I delayed my retirement, then moved back to the USA instead of the Philippines and took Jee Yeun with me. And here I am all these years later, living in the Philippines and still trying to recover from the heartbreak that flowed from that decision.

Memory Lane is chock full of potholes, that’s for sure.

20 years on: Remembering 9/11

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We said we’d “Never Forget!” but I’m not so sure that’s true for many of my fellow Americans. But for today, at least, we’ll leave politics out of the remembrance of those who lost their lives as well as the heroes who gave their lives on that fateful day twenty years ago.

I was working at the Department of Education in Washington, DC on that beautiful September morning. I was having a meeting with my staff in the conference room. Someone mentioned a plane hitting the World Trade Center building in New York, but we assumed it was just a tragic accident (contact the personal injury lawyers to help you to get proper aid at the right time). During the meeting, the phone in my office kept ringing. I ignored it at first, but the persistent callbacks convinced me to interrupt my meeting. The caller was my then-wife, Carol, who worked for the Department of Justice. She asked if I’d heard the news–a plane had hit the Pentagon. And things started going crazy throughout the city.

We were locked down. Anyone leaving the building was not allowed back inside. Meanwhile, at the Justice Department, employees had been excused. Carol came to my workplace but they wouldn’t let her in, so I went outside to join her. Now what? We were commuters on the Virginia Railway Express, but all forms of public transportation had been shut down indefinitely. We made our way to the Holiday Inn near our train station and sat in the bar watching events unfold on television. A few hours later, a friend who lived in DC picked us up and drove us home to Stafford, Virginia. My daughter Hillary, who had joined the Army Reserve, was watching the news on TV and stated matter-of-factly “this means I’m going to be activated.” She was and did two tours of duty in Afghanistan.

Everything changed that day. On a personal level, I was jolted out of my former worldview regarding national security. I discovered new sources of information on the internet and was shocked to discover much of what the Washington Post had been feeding me was bullshit. Not so much in what they reported, but in the things they left out. It set my life on a new course, one that eventually led me to Korea to work for the U.S. Army as a civilian.

Over the years I had the opportunity to highlight the actions of two heroic firefighters. I want to continue that tradition by “saying their names” here today:

James Raymond Coyle.

See his story at the link above.

Samuel Oitice.

You are not forgotten.

Men and women like these exemplify the selflessness and sacrifice that has made America great. Hopefully, all those who lost their lives on that fateful day twenty years ago did not die in vain.

This song and the accompanying photographs are both a haunting remembrance and a fitting tribute to those who died that day. May they all rest in peace.

On this day

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Welp, it looks like I’ve been officially designated the Hare for the Hash on May 13. In preparation for that event I went out this morning to measure the trail I’ve been working on.

This is the short version for us walkers. It incorporates most of “My Bitch”. Still would like to find a seamless way to add another kilometer or so.

As it turns out May 13 is also election day here in the Philippines. That’s significant because Filipinos are not permitted to consume alcohol during elections. The bars here in Barretto are granted a waiver to serve foreigners only, but we have quite a few Filipinas in our kennel.
Since our beer is self-serve from ice chests it would be difficult to enforce a no-drinking edict. And that could pose a problem for our “on-home” venue should a Filipina be caught drinking. So one solution is to have the on-home activities done at, well, someone’s home. Heidi has a great house for it but we need to confirm she is willing. My house is Plan B. Stay tuned.

On this day four years ago I was meeting up with Kevin Kim and Young Chun to celebrate the publication of Young’s book The Accidental Citizen-Soldier (and to get my copy autographed of course).

That’s Kevin on the left…

And on this day six years ago promises were being made that were destined to be broken.

Honestly, it still pains me.

Speaking of Kevin Kim, on this day fourteen years ago I was discovering his blog Big Hominid’s Hairy Chasms. And posts like this one have kept me coming back for all these years. Those photos of hiking Namsan really make me homesick for Seoul.

Anyway, that’s the past and my future for better or worse is here in the Philippines. Forward march!

UPDATE: HaHa! This makes FIVE times I’ve used the “On this day” title. Perhaps it’s a sign I’ve been blogging too long. Nah, that can’t be it.

Anyway, on December 12, 2018 I recognized the 14th anniversary of the birth of LTG.

On June 22, 2018 I wrote about getting settled into my new (current) house here in Alta Vista.

On March 11, 2018 I blogged out some birthday love for my son Kevin.

And finally, the first time I used ” On this day” was back on January 25, 2015. I was talking about the excitement that comes with making up some burritos at home. And coincidentally, I was linked to a funny story from Kevin Kim’s blog about his encounter with the Korean National Police. Good stuff.

Only God can make a tree

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But anyone can write a poem, even me! Especially a bad one. Well, it’s been a long, long time since I put verses on paper but back in the day I was a poem writing fool. I had cause to be reminded of this fact when I opened “the box of memories” I brought back with me from the last visit to the USA.

An old wine box. But after reading some of the crap inside, it might be more apt to call it a whine box.
Photographs, cards and letters, and lots of original words on paper–a journal, some short stories, and some bad poetry. All authored by yours truly back in the early 1970’s. Yep, the contents were still dripping with teenage angst even after all these years.

I was somewhat taken aback at how similar some of those emotions I was expressing back then are to ones I still sometimes experience. And the opposite is true as well, I found my self shaking my head at the sad and petulant young man who fancied himself a writer. Geez, and here I am overcoming that shame by sharing some of those words here with you now. Ha! Finally published after all these years!

Okay, I’m not going to edit or rewrite this crap, but some of it will be excerpted so you’ll get the flavor without having to suffer overmuch. Let’s start with a twofer–a sheet of notebook paper dated December 14, 1972 with these two poems:

The Only Way

Perhaps the best way
Is your way
Maybe the best belief
Is not to believe
Maybe the only answer
Is no answer
And maybe the only time
Is this time...
And yet,
Why can't our love
Be the only love?

Alone

Alone in my fantasies
Alone with my dreams
But when I wake with the dawning
One sullen fact remains
That I am alone in my love for you---
The sun doesn't shine, it rains.

Well, I warned you. Let’s try this:

I wrote this for my creative writing class in my junior year if I recall correctly. My teacher was a bit of a prick (he called a sonnet I had worked hard on and was proud of “extremely corny”), so this was high praise coming from him. Yeah, I was a full-on anti-war protester back in those days and wrote several Vietnam themed poems. I am not proud of the sentiment expressed in this one. I think it may have been prompted by the My Lai massacre, but it was wrong then and so was I.

Here’s an excerpt from a poem called New Year’s Eve which I assume I wrote on New Year’s Eve. Not sure which New Year’s Eve, but given my history of ill-fated love, it could be just about ANY New Year’s Eve.

You never even took the time
To see what you were using
And you were shocked when you found out
It was you who did the losing

And you really can't help looking back
Was it all just another game?
You pretend it doesn't matter
But you've never felt quite the same

And when it's finally all over
Will you look at your life and be sad?
Will you remember the people and places
And the love you could have had?

I had a typewriter and a hippie mentality back in those days. Geez, this one makes me cringe. And I’m pretty sure the punctuation is all wrong. I’d usually get A’s and B’s on content and D’s on composition. I have no idea why I took to calling myself John Mark McCrarey II. I’m the first and only. I guess I thought it looked cool. Geez.

Alright, I’ve tortured you just about enough I suppose. But before you go, let me share a short essay that just so happens to be the oldest thing in the box, written in my sophomore English class on October 22, 1970. It’s called: Love? Hah!

People are really fools but nobody ever seems to notice this, not even me, until recently. A couple of days ago a friend of mine came up to me and said, “John, I’m in love with Joyce.” I held back from laughing out of friendship, but inside I was thinking “you’re just as dumb as the rest of them.”

Not many people realize there’s no love in the world anymore. Why? Well, for one thing, nobody seems to have time for love in a modern society. Yeah, a lot of people say they’re in love, but they are only fooling themselves. Love is only in the mind. People like to think they are in in love, I guess it makes them happy. I’m not knocking love, how can I? There’s no such thing!

I was only in love once and that’s how I found out about the whole phony thing. It doesn’t make any difference though; people will still foolishly go on searching for something they will never find, something that doesn’t exist, something they call love. Hah!

Hard to believe I was so cynical about love at the tender age of fifteen. Hmm, the more things change, the more they remain the same.

Thank you for your indulgence.

 
I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.



A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;



A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;



A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;



Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.



Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree. 

--Joyce Kilmer 

Substantively speaking

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Once upon a time you could find posts here at LTG that did not revolve around me and my so-called life. Hard to believe I know, but I had a pleasant reminder of this yesterday from long time reader and blog buddy Kevin Kim.

Kev, who still writes on issues of substance, recently posted here regarding the socialism induced bankruptcy of the government in Finland. In response to a comment I left on his post, Kevin said it was the future I had predicted some time ago on my blog. I had no recollection of that but he came back with this post I’d written 14 years ago! Well, what I had to say back then wasn’t exactly rocket science but it impressed the hell out of me that he remembered it at all and that he was able to ferret it out from the sewer of my archives. Thanks for that Mr. Kim!

Anyway, I don’t bother arguing politics much these days. It seems pointless since I doubt I’m going to change any minds. I still follow along with what is happening back in the USA and it both makes me sad for my country and glad that I’m not there to experience it up close and personal. So what I’m saying is this blog will continue to serve as a reminder that no man is totally worthless–he can always serve as a bad example! You’re welcome.

Yesterday I was able to briefly step out of my pathetic self-centered life with my monthly visit to the King’s Fil-Am orphanage.

The director had provided me a shopping list of needed items and I was happy to oblige.
There were no birthdays to celebrate this month but I brought along some pizzas for the staff to serve the children.
Who doesn’t like a pizza party?

The kids all seem happy and well cared for. And the little bit of help I’m able to provide each month seems appreciated. The director sent me a thank you email that made me smile:


God bless you as you continue to share your blessings to these unfortunate children, but fortunate enough because of your love.


    To God be the Glory!

Well, I’m not a religious man at all, but if a God I don’t believe in is helping these kids by using me as a tool, more power to Him! I know it is kinda of gauche to make a public display of charity, but being the self-centered bastard that I am I can’t help myself it fulfills in part one of the goals I set when moving here: to make a difference. I’m not changing lives or doing anything all that meaningful or significant, but I’m at least making things a little bit better for a few folks and I’m happy about that. It takes some of the edge off the guilt that comes with living large amongst people who have so little.

Speaking of making things better:

The baby back ribs I prepared last night might be the best batch ever! The meat was falling off the bone tender (8 hours in the crock pot will do that), the seasoning was flavorful, and the oven-baked BBQ sauce crust came out just right.

Oh, and last night across the bay someone was trying to burn down a mountain.

Selfish bastards.

Life marches on! Hope you will come back for more nothing of substance soon.

The way we were

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Now I wind up staring at an empty glass                                                                                  Because it’s so easy to say that you’ll forget your past...

Another Valentine’s Day being spent on my own.  And truthfully, that’s pretty much the way I choose to be.  But it weren’t always so.  And it seems there is always something there to remind me when I wasn’t alone.

Delving through my old posts on the Philippines information board I frequent, I came across something I wrote back in August 2009 called “My Dilemma”:

So next month marks an anniversary. One year since my last visit to the PI. You guys with PPD (post Philippines Depression) can imagine how much worse it is when you don’t know when, or if, you will return to paradise.

See, next August I am eligible to retire and can draw a generous (and well earned I might add) government pension. I could live comfortably almost anywhere, but in the PI I could live like a rich man. And that has a certain appeal to me.

What’s the problem then? Well, as the old Elvin Bishop song says “I fooled around and fell in love”. With a Korean woman.

Now, this woman is 93% perfect. She takes care of all my needs in a way that is beyond anything I ever imagined. And I’m a man who likes to be taken care of. She does everything for me down to the smallest detail without complaint. In fact, she tells me it is “her pleasure”. She is an amazing lover and an old fashioned good hearted woman. I go to the bars about three nights a week for darts, and she never complains. She comes along and has actually become a pretty big fan of the game. All my friends think she is great and her family seems to have taken a liking to me as well. When I got sick last year, she was at my side in the hospital 24/7. Hell, to reference another old song, she’s like the gal The Band sang about: “up on cripple creek she sends me/if I spring a leak/she mends me/I don’t have to speak/she defends me/a drunkards dream if I ever did see one…”

Yep, I’d have a hard time finding anyone better for me in this world than her.

So, you may be thinking, “what’s the dilemma?”. The 7% of the GF that is not perfect is that she is extraordinarily jealous. Almost to the point of being insane about it.

And she found my collection of photos from previous trips to the Philippines. She says seeing me with those “young girls” just makes her sick to her stomach. She deleted them all.

Now, even hearing the word Philippines enrages her. And whenever there’s a Filipina in a bar she accuses me of staring at her and tells me “I love Filipino women too much!”.

She accessed my email and found communications with a platonic friend in the PI and went nuts.

If I go to a filipino bar I like here in Seoul she gets pissed.

She checks the messages/call history on my cell phone.

She checks the stamps in my passport when I travel.

She counts the frickin’ money in my wallet to make sure I’m not spending money on others.

In other words, that 7% is getting to be a real pain in the ass.

But damn, she does love me, and you know, there is something to be said for being loved.

But any future I might have with her, means there is no Philippines in my future.

And she is right about one thing–I truly do love the Pinays.

Hence my dilemma. One year out from retirement and I need to be firming up plans. If I stay in Korea with her, it means getting married (will need a visa). If I’m going to the PI to retire, well, I need to be going there and making some decisions.

I’m stuck at 50-50 on the pros and cons. I mean, I could pay someone  in the PI to take care of all those nice things my GF gives me free. But as the Beatles so astutely noted, “Money can’t buy me love”.

I guess it’s a good thing to have choices in life. But it feels pretty fucked up right now.

Well, of course regular readers know that I chose love over the Philippines.  And as it turned out, I chose wrong.  I’m still not really over it and I definitely don’t understand it.  But there is of course no going back.  I can only lament the wasted time.

But as Facebook reminds me today, there were moments of love.  I even made a movie about it, circa 2013.

Painful to watch now.  And for those who say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, I call bullshit.

One thing is for sure, I am bound and determined to never love again.  Don’t need it, don’t want it.  Happy Valentine’s Day!

Mem’ries,
Light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were
Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time re-written every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we? Could we?
Mem’ries, may be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it’s the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember…
The way we were…
The way we were…

Glory days

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When I was a freshman in high school I ran on the cross country team.  Back then, the course was two miles long (by the time my kids competed it was 3 miles).  I was not the top runner on the team by far, but my best time of 10.56 minutes was fairly respectable, especially for a 9th grader.  Our star varsity runner was somewhere in the mid-nine minute range.  So, I think it is fair to say I had potential and I did work hard, never missing practice and the like.

So, it was pretty shocking when near the end of the season Coach Hedges told me get a haircut or I was off the team.  The truth of the matter is that my hair was not even that long (certainly not over my ears or in my eyes or anything).  And what I found especially irksome was my hair was every bit as short as the aforementioned star varsity player.  I mentioned that fact to the coach and then I was off the team.  And thus began my rebellious phase.

I mention this now after all these years because I didn’t realize at the time that my Constitutional rights had been violated.   The 7th Circuit Court says a short hair requirement for boys that doesn’t apply to girls is a violation of the equal protection clause and constitutes sex discrimination.

I just figured Coach Hedges was an asshole. Instead, I was a victim of government oppression and didn’t even know it.  No big deal, just one of those bumps along the road of life that cause a change of direction.  But of course, that changes everything.

Hat Tip: Althouse

Slip slidin’ away

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blog13.JPG

Me on X-country skis in the White Mountains of Arizona, circa 1981.  It’s been 30 years.  That blows me away…

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,

Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,

Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,

Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

If anyone asks, say it was forgotten

Long and long ago,

As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall

In a long forgotten snow.

                                                       —Sara Teasdale

Blast from the Past–Walter Lee

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In honor of Father’s Day, some snaps of my dad…

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This is from Dad’s prospecting days.  He’d drive the ol’ Bullfrog (Jeep) out into the desert and search for precious minerals.  I do believe that would be a Geiger counter on his lap…

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Back in those days his day job was managing a fast food joint called The Rite Spot.  He also manned the grill and was a master at cooking and flipping dozens of burgers simultaneously.   I guess he had to be because burgers were like a dime each or 12 for a dollar.   Popular hangout for the local teenagers in Westminster, California until the McDonalds opened up directly across the street.

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Dad also always enjoyed doing the yard work.  If he couldn’t find the rake, he’d give a clean sweep with the push broom.

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Evening relaxation was a beer, a smoke, and some Marty Robbins on the record player…

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During the war Dad served in the merchant marine as a 16 year old and later enlisted in the Army…

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And finally, here’s one of Dad (back row, 3rd from left) with his chums in Memphis, Tennessee…
Happy Father’s Day!

Blast from the Past–Ringwraiths

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My first softball team, The Ringwraiths.  I was a fanatic for the game for a dozen years of so, until my travel schedule at work made team sports unrealistic.  I had a nice run though, playing on some championship winning teams in far flung venues from Southern Cal, to Arizona, to Arkansas.  Truth be told, I still miss those glory days…

Of those pictured I can only recall the names of Jim Meehan (66), Rod Headlee (13), Larry Raemakers (6), Doug Price (35) and my brother Keith (22).  I’m wearing #7.  Photo was taken in 1973 or 1974.

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Blast from the Past–Bad Ass

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I reckon this to be sometime in the fall of 1974.  It was during the Barstow to Las Vegas dirt bike race in which my pal Rod Headlee was competing.  This was at a gas stop in some desolate desert burg after the race had started. We were on our way to meet the riders at the finish line in Vegas.  The handsome dude in shades and hat would be me, the guy in the middle with the wild hair is my brother Greg.  The rude guy with his finger extended?  A friend of a friend whose name is lost to history.  I also have no idea who snapped the photo, but it was with my 110 Instamatic Kodak…