My last Hash

Until next year. Anyway, not a bad day on trail. We left Alta Vista and took the back way through the hills to the start of the Hash on Rizal Extension. From there, we did a steep stair climb almost to the top of the Kalaklan Ridge, then meandered through the woods to the On-Home at Tiny Cunts house at the far end of Rizal Extension. The problem is getting back from there after the Hash. My solution was to leave at the beginning of the Hash circle and walk back down the road before nightfall. That worked out just fine, and we chilled at It Doesn’t Matter until it was time to call it a day and head home. Here are a few photos from the adventure:

Heading out, I came upon the proverbial fork in the road. I didn’t take it.
Arriving at the meet-up
Let the climbing commence!
First cookie delivery of the day
On and on we climbed the uneven steps
The steps were done but not the uphill climb
If a tree falls on your roof and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?
Through the woods we go
Nature’s litter is much more pleasant than the human kind
Two options: Over or under the barbed wire.
I guess whoever was building here got tired of the climb and said, “fuck this!”
On the level
Weird to see Christmas wrapping paper discarded out in the wilderness
Walking the wall
The Rizal Extension portion of the hike
A little over 5K from start to finish

Hash Monday is a difficult day to stayed focused on the diet plan.

That second helping of pudding put me over the top. Hey, the New Year is coming. I’m resolved to do better!

I was born in 1955 and I’m still booming like there is no tomorrow:

Why yes, yes we are!

And next time I visit Korea, you can call me Kang, Gun Hyo.

Today’s installment in The Story of My Life comes from my brief reflections regarding my final day at work back on December 30, 2010. My big insight on that day was this:

But I’m going to make sure this is merely the transition time between adventures.  Or go crazy.  One of those.

Four years later, I revisited those musings in a post called It’s the inevitable let down at the end of a great adventure and shared this epiphany:

Maybe I am crazy, but it occurs to me now that life is always just one big transition.  I suppose that state of perpetual transition might on occasion include adventure.  More often it just hurts.

Back then, I didn’t have a clue about the heartbreak that would befall me the following year. And that ultimately led me to a new life in the Philippines. The only way to find out what comes next is to live it. I’m going to keep at that task for as long as possible.

Now at last I have come to see what life is,
Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun,
And the brave victories that seem so splendid
Are never really won.

Even love that I built my spirit’s house for,
Comes like a brooding and a baffled guest,
And music and men’s praise and even laughter
Are not so good as rest.

― Sara Teasdale

At least I’m not a loser like the one in today’s YouTube video. Get a grip, dude. Yeah, I dislike things about the PI (primarily litter and noise), but the good far outweighs the bad. If I didn’t think that was the case, I would get the fuck out, not post whiny-ass YouTube rants about it.

Laughter helps:

You can’t tell by my posts, but I do care and I am at least trying to do better.
I worked at Blinky’s Pizza in Westminster, California, back in my high school daze. And yes, we kneaded the dough. The bread they paid me was minimum wage.
And that’s why I could never be a doctor…

So, today’s post is coming to you from Mope Beach Resort in beautiful barangay La Paz, San Narciso. I didn’t have a plan for this; I just wanted to welcome the New Year by doing something different. So, we packed our bags and had the driver drop us down the road after grocery shopping. And here we are! I’ll let you know how it goes down tomorrow.

The story of my life

It was twenty years ago today when Long Time Gone was born into the blogosphere. What a ride it has been! Of course, things seldom go as planned, but I had no clue at the time that the journey I was about to embark on would completely and irrevocably change everything and lead me to places beyond my wildest imagination. In my “do-over” afterlife fantasy, there are many things I would change, but making the move to Korea and leaving my vanilla American life behind forever is not one of them. Here’s what I had to say twenty years ago in my first blog post, “And So It Begins”:

I’m moving to Seoul, Korea. Although the general consensus among family and friends is that I’ve lost my mind (which I don’t necessarily deny), this is something of a calling for me. One of my biggest regrets in life was not serving in the military. My father and two brothers are Army vets. My daughter is currently serving her second tour in Afghanistan with the 82nd Airborne. I am incredibly proud of her and all our troops who are sacrificing so much to defend our freedom and to bring freedom from tyranny to others. Sitting on the sidelines watching these incredible men and women making a difference in the world has only exacerbated my desire to find some tangible way to make a contribution in support of our military. Of course, at 49 my options are somewhat limited. I have been a federal civilian employee for over 28 years, and so for the past several months I have been applying for civilian jobs with the Department of Defense. I was not selected for a position I applied for in Iraq, but the Army offered me a job in South Korea and I have accepted. I don’t presume to think that doing a civilian gig in Seoul is heroic or particularly self-sacrificing, but if in some small way I can play a part in our national defense, I am proud to do so.

Ok, that’s the altruistic reason for going, such as it is. On a more personal level, I have lived a very comfortable life. Too comfortable perhaps. The chance to live and work overseas in a totally alien culture seems to be an exciting opportunity to get out of my box and experience a new lifestyle. Yes, I am looking forward to the adventure. Of course, the nature of adventure is the not knowing how things will turn out. I know I will miss my family and friends and everything that is familiar and wonderfully American. I have made a two-year commitment to the Army, and if I am miserable and lost and lonely, well I will deal with it and learn what I can from the experience. Going in, I have a positive attitude and believe that I have the power to determine what I gain and how I grow as I live this new life.

So, this blog will serve as a diary of my life in Korea. It will be a place where I share my thoughts on what I am seeing, doing, and learning. And since I am fairly political and opinionated, there will likely be some commentary on my views on world events. I have been a blog reader since I discovered the blogosphere shortly after 9/11. This is my first attempt at writing a blog, and that will be part of the adventure I am undertaking.

My original intent when starting LTG was to have an easy way to stay in touch and share with my friends and family back home what was happening in my Korean life. These days, no one from those long ago times reads the blog or cares about me and my so-called life here in the Philippines. Everything changes, but this journey of mine still goes on until I finally reach the end of my road. And I intend to keep writing this public diary of mine even if no one cares enough to read it. I know I have a handful of loyal followers, and that means a lot to me, even if your reward is being subjected to my daily dose of drivel. Thank you!

I have occasionally fantasized about writing the story of my life. Perhaps one day, my descendants will want to learn more about that crazy relative who left everything behind and moved to Asia. In some ways, this blog fulfills that purpose. My plan now is to spend the next few months scrolling through the archives for the rare post that might be worthy of inclusion in my unwritten autobiography. I’ve created a new tag, “The story of my life,” to add to those posts so they will be easy to find in the future. And I’ll share a link to those stories with my readers as I find them.

Over the past twenty years, I have written 5,326 posts and received 17,181 comments. Happy blogiversary! I hope you’ll stick around to see what happens next.

And here’s what happened yesterday:

The morning dog walk to start the day

And then it was time for the Wednesday Walkers group hike. We took a Jeepney out to the far side of Subic and commenced our hike from there.

Out of the Jeepney
And off we go!
Leaving the city behind
Catching up after a pee stop
Bushy grasses would be our bane for much of the hike
Mostly flat, but this was a tricky down
We last came this way in March. It wasn’t so overgrown with plant life back then.
Ah, the wide-open spaces!
It’s so much easier to walk on the dirt road. It didn’t last long, though.
Working the fields
Graffiti, Filipino-style
Village life
The road’s gone, but the grass is low for now.
Lollipop delivery
Pausing for the group shot. Biggest turnout we’ve had for a while.
A hard-working carabao
Life on the farm
Marching single file
It held her!
And then it got wet and muddy
How muddy? This muddy.
We needed to cross the river, but some of us wanted a better option for doing so.
Washing the mud off our shoes was an added benefit
The carabao didn’t mind us passing through his turf
That bridge most of us didn’t take
These two gals did, though
Well done, Beth
This cow was a little freaked out seeing us pass through. At least he ran the other way instead of at us.
And then there was another water crossing
No dry shoe option this time
Through the fields we go
It seems strange to grow a crop in the riverbed, but whatever it takes
Slippin’ on down to the river
And then wading across
There is freedom in wet feet–you don’t have to care anymore.
Through another small village
Then back on the pavement
All the Jeepneys passing by were full
But then we were able to flag down a passing Victory Line and rode back to Barretto in comfort
Just about 6.5K from start to finish

Swan and I killed the evening hours with visits to It Doesn’t Matter and a nightcap at Wet Spot.

I made it, but just barely.

Remembering when we were a family:

Both my brothers are still alive; I just never hear from them anymore.

And now for a taste of politics:

Funny and sad how that works

In today’s YouTube video, Reekay recounts the sad tale of expat Ted. I spend more than I should and have depleted a sizeable chunk of my savings, but that monthly government pension deposit is ample to keep me living large—at least until the USA goes bankrupt. Avoiding four years of Kamala spending might be the miracle we’ve needed.

And some humor, if you please:

That kid is going places!
Time to wrap it up, Kirk
Maybe it’s a hump too far

Anyway, here’s to hoping it will be a Long Time Gone before my blogging days are over. I ain’t in no hurry to give it up.

Keep the change

I’ve been doing some self-reflection and pondering the way ahead as I move into what remains of my golden years. Honestly speaking and notwithstanding my bitching and moaning, I’m living a comfortable and mostly satisfying retired life here in my scenic little town. The one aspect I’ve been most unhappy about has been my failure to find and maintain a truly loving relationship. And yes, I know that is all on me. And you, my dear readers, are quick to remind me of that fact whenever my whining rants and self-pity get to be too much. See, this blog does serve a purpose!

A commenter on my Live and Learn post defined the nature of my failures with women as being due to what he called “transactional relationships”:


If you really are seeking some sort of love and companionship, you have to start by eliminating the transactional dimension of your “relationships.” Another astute commenter used the phrase “pay for play” to describe your situation. As long as you’re unable to rise above the transactional (she gets something out of this; I get something out of this), you’re doomed to marinate in your own hell.

I hadn’t really ever thought of it quite that way so that set me to thinking. Looking back it is true that almost all of my “love” relationships had a transactional aspect to them. Maybe it is just the way I’m wired or perhaps it’s just my admittedly selfish nature, but I’m not seeing how I might escape this Groundhog Day-like cycle. I mean, aren’t the traditional wedding vows transactional in nature? Making mutual promises to one another about all the things you will do for that person “until death do us part” is tantamount to entering into a contract. What’s more transactional than that?

So, I’ve been married four times. Some might call that a failure, but on the other hand, I did find four women in this world willing to take those vows of eternal love. That it was all for naught isn’t all that relevant, is it? In the case of wife #1, she had my baby. I wanted to keep that baby girl and raise her the best I could. Marriage was the avenue for doing that, so I gladly made that transaction. After five years that wife decided she didn’t want the job of being a mother anymore (we also had a son by now) so I became a single father.

Wife #2 was and is probably one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I knew she’d make a great mom for my kids (she was a widow with one young child) and so I convinced her to marry me. I did love her in my fashion but there is no denying the transactional nature of that relationship. Of course, once the kids were grown the foundation of the marriage no longer existed. I recall that when I told my daughter of the pending divorce, she said to me: “I never understood why you got married in the first place. You two have nothing in common. She doesn’t even laugh at your jokes.” I responded that I got married so she would have a mother. My daughter looked at me and said “Daddy, we were doing just fine as the three of us.” Oh well, that one is all on me and I hurt a very good woman in the process. I’m not proud of that at all.

Now, wife #3 was all about passion. I mean, that was certainly true in the physical sense but it also carried over into our intellectual life as well. We fought about everything, but not really in a bad way. We both worked in labor relations and we’d have heated debates about work-related issues as a matter of course. Once I wised up and left my liberal orthodoxy behind we’d fight like cats and dogs over politics too. But the thing is, we were engaged. We argued because we cared. And once I moved to Korea and she reneged on her promise to join me there, I really missed that aspect of our married life. That’s probably one of the few instances of a non-transactional relationship I’ve managed to achieve. In the end, it was still a failure, but in a twisted kind of way, it worked while it lasted.

My Korean wife (#4 if you’re keeping score) was pretty much the complete opposite of my third wife. The language barrier played a large part in that I suppose as our interactions were limited to mostly mundane questions and responses. But she was a good woman and had a good heart. And she changed my life. I was supposed to retire and move to the Philippines in 2010. But after one of my trips there I came home sick and was hospitalized for a couple of days. Jee Yeun took time off work and stayed with me 24/7. And that got me thinking. I knew the Filipinas I had been meeting would love me for what I could offer them but likely only until a better option came along. I knew Jee Yeun would always be there for me. So, that’s what I chose. The deal was we’d always take care of each other and I was happy or at least satisfied with that. I guess that’s transactional too, but at least it was mutual. It was shocking when Jee Yeun unilaterally backed out of the deal. And not to make excuses, but I’ve been cynical about love ever since.

Now, after that final failure (and it is final, I will never marry again) I’ve been floundering. I want to have love in my love, but I’m unwilling to take the risks that loving someone requires. I don’t want another broken heart. So, I came up with a brand new plan. It was the ultimate in transactional relationships–I would pay someone to do and be all the things a girlfriend should provide, except there would be no love involved. I was a fool to believe it was foolproof. In the end, I fell in love with her and she broke my heart. Turns out she was better at the transactional game than I was–dumping me for a guy who offered her a better package. Is that how Karma works?

So, now what? We’ve identified the problem and that would be me. But what to do about it? Is being aware of my transactional nature enough to change it? Or will this be my destiny:

…like a wind-up toy aimed at a wall, you tend to hit that wall and to keep stubbornly trying to walk through it. You’ve been great about accepting the various criticisms we’ve offered (frankly, I might not react so well if I were in your place), but deep down, you’re not really accepting them. You’re stubbornly, eternally walking into that wall, into that wall, into that wall. Until you divorce yourself from that momentum and that trajectory (some would call this karma), nothing is going to change, no matter how much you rhapsodize about loftier things.

With awareness comes acceptance. Except I’m accepting that I’m not likely to change at this stage of my life. After giving the matter lots of thought, I’ve concluded that I am unlikely to change because I’m not at all sure that I want to change. No, I’m not particularly happy with my current state of being but damn, being “in love” might just be worse. These past few days seeing how the power my feelings for Janey has made me vulnerable to hurt and despair has been a good reminder that there are worse things than being alone.

So, what next? Well, I’m going to strive to do better in the way I treat the women I meet. A transactional relationship is one thing, but using people in a way that causes them pain is unacceptable. I don’t think that was ever my intent but I believe there have been some inadvertent hurt feelings along the way. I’m going to learn to embrace my aloneness as just another part of who I am. Yes, I’ll find opportunities along the way to experience the unique pleasure female company can provide. Let that be my respite from loneliness.

Actually, the thought has occurred to me to give my “Plan B” another try. Just pay someone to be my girlfriend/companion in much the same way that I pay my domestic helpers to take care of my house. It could work. As long as I don’t fall in love.

And the best news of all dear readers is that you will not hear me bitch and moan about the sorry state of my love life. There is peace in acceptance.

There’s something about Mary

What that something is I haven’t quite figured out. Maybe I never will.

Last night’s get together was something of a roller coaster ride. Mary was a little late arriving at our rendevous location and we were bumping up against the pending curfew. No trikes were available so she walked with me to the house without complaint. Mary said she wasn’t hungry, so I made up a batch of strawberry-banana smoothies.

I tried to engage her in some conversation but she seemed shyer and more reserved than during our first meeting. I’d had a few beers while waiting for her so I probably wasn’t providing much inspiration either. I remember asking her if she likes me and she responded by holding up her thumb and index finger maybe an inch apart and said “a little”. Hmm, that made me wonder why she had even bothered to come. Oh. Probably for the money. This led me to broach the subject of my being her Sugar Daddy. Mary had never heard of the concept and after I explained it she simply said “will it pay the rent?”

Mary strikes me as being quite the enigma–equal parts shy, innocent, and mercenary. But I guess desperate times require stepping out of her comfort zone. So I took her upstairs to the bedroom.

The next morning she came downstairs acting like nothing was wrong. The dogs like her at least. She didn’t want breakfast and after a couple of minutes of small talk, she asked if she could take a shower. I took her upstairs and showed how the shower water heater worked.

While she was in the bathroom, I put the rent money under her phone. She came out, saw the money, and asked “what’s this?”. I told her it was the rent money. And she didn’t want to take it. I finally told her it was her birthday present and her severance pay. She asked why and I told her I wasn’t interested in spending time with someone who couldn’t even pretend to be interested in me. Mary said, “but I really do like you a lot!”. I’m like, WTF? We just had this conversation on the bed and you agreed that you weren’t attracted to me. Her response floored me: “I really couldn’t understand much of what you were saying. You talk too fast.” So I said, well, you know, if you don’t tell me you don’t understand me, how am I supposed to explain or slow down? You kept nodding and agreeing with me, so I assumed you understood. So, anyway, we agreed that I would try to slow down my speech (my domestic helper agrees I’m hard to understand at times) and Mary will tell me to repeat myself as needed. We’ll see.

I told Mary to keep the money and consider it an advance on her first month’s salary. She reluctantly agreed to this. We haven’t really defined the terms of her employment yet. I’m just looking for a little company and companionship. And satisfying boom-boom now and then. I have no idea how that is going to work out, but I’ll give her another shot anyway I guess. I don’t really have any other irons in the fire right now.

And oh yeah. I walked her to the Jeepney stop and said goodbye. On her way home she sent me a message: “I think I’m falling in love with you.” Oh boy, here we go again. I’m a LONG way from feeling that emotion so I just told her we’d take it slowly and see where it leads us.

Bottom line: No, I don’t think she is a scammer. I think she is inexperienced and naturally shy. I’m not sure what her ultimate goal is, but it probably revolves around financial security, i.e. “the rent”. I think she has been pretty upfront about that. Now if she can just up her game and learn to make me feel special we could potentially have a win-win. Otherwise, I’m prepared to walk away.

UPDATE: I did something I very rarely do here at LTG…edited a completed post. I deleted some of the details about last night because it just seemed like too much information for a public blog. Sorry if what remains is more disjointed than usual.

Groundhog Day


Which came first–the chicken or the egg? I’m guessing it was the rooster.

So, here we go again. My hopes for some relief from the “enhanced” quarantine rules were dashed with the announcement that Zambales province would continue with the current restrictions through May 15 (at least). And to add insult to injury the mayor of Olongapo has decreed that we will once again suffer a total lockdown on Saturday and Sunday. Not even using the “disinfecting” pretext this time around. I guess there is no point in having power if you aren’t willing to abuse it.

Here are today’s numbers for the Philippines. They are essentially meaningless in my opinion because almost no one has been tested that wasn’t already displaying symptoms. We know now that a huge percentage of people get the virus and have no symptoms and no lingering ill effects. Here in Olongapo, we’ve had four cases total. What the hell is all the fuss about?

I’ll admit this shit is getting depressing. So I decided it was time to take stock of things in my life. And one thing I was short on was my supply of beer. This morning I set about rectifying that situation.

I sent a message to my bar owner friend Jay asking if he had any beer in stock he wanted to sell. He responded that he was going into Olongapo shortly in search of some and I was welcome to ride along. And that is just what I did. Jay was driving the Hashmobile (he’s the Subic Hash Grandmaster, aka H.I.V.) and I didn’t think it was possible, but he drives even crazier than my own driver Donny. Anyway, we arrived safely at the market, and alas, they had no beer. Plenty of hard liquors available and Jay stocked up on those. Jay told me he would contact another bar owner to see if he had anything for sale. We drove back to Barretto and as we were offloading Jay’s purchases he realized he’d left his credit card at the store in Olongapo. Jay asked if I wanted to ride along again and having nothing better to do, and wanting him to pursue the alternative source for beer, I agreed. And then this happened:

The front tire blew out. And what a pain in the ass it was to change. I wound up calling my driver and it’s a good thing I did. The jack in the Hashmobile was totally inadequate for the job at hand. Donny’s jack saved the day.

So, since Donny was there I figured I’d go ahead and have him take me to the supermarket where I’d purchased beer and groceries on Tuesday. Knowing we were going on lockdown made me remember all the things I’d forgotten to buy on my earlier trip.

I guess everyone else was thinking the same thing…buy now or be fucked.

Once I was allowed into the store I set about my business. Only five cans of beer left on the shelf, so I grabbed them. Stocked up on dog food, chicken nuggets, canned goods, and the like, then headed home. On the way back Jay messaged that he had secured the three cases (24 bottles each) of beer I was desiring. WooHoo! That ought to get me through quarantine!

Bringing home my treasures!

Yesterday, I did a 12K hike with Scott and Jim.

We rendezvoused at the home of my mountain friends, JR and Jennifer and family. I brought along a sack of provisions to help them weather the virus storm.
We decided to keep it mostly flat this time. Monday’s hike was a killer doing the big climb in the heat.
So, I guess you could call this the ‘high” light of the hike as we worked our way back down from the mountain family’s place.
Scott took a photo of me taking a photo of Easter mountain…
Scott on the trail…
Me on the trail…
Gemini. (see what I did there?)
Jim is always leading the way (he’s got 10 years of youthful advantage on us) so he gets to sit and wait a lot.
Some things never change, this is the Philippines after all…
We crossed that bridge when we came to it. It was pretty dicey though…
On the home stretch of our hike. The trail led us to Alta Vista so I invited the guys in for some leftover chili, cheese nachos, and of course, cold beer to wash it all down. Which put a BIG dent in my supply and had a direct bearing on my beer seeking adventures today.

Still, having a couple of tech-savvy guys over was a good thing. Jim ran a clean-up program which sped things up on my computer quite a bit. Scott showed me how to download torrents from Pirate Bay and I’ve got season 1 and 2 of Game of Thrones to dive into this weekend now at least.

So, my high school girlfriend actually posted this on her Facebook page today:

OUCH!

And I’ll leave you with this which is both funny and sadly all too accurate:

As Glenn Reynolds notes, the Babylon Bee has become America’s paper of record.

The way we were

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…

Perfect timing!

Feel free to skip this post if you are weary of hearing my tales of woe regarding my health.

Okay, for the rest of you then…

Today I successfully secured a coveted appointment at the Brian Allgood Army Community Hospital on my third day of trying.  Oddly enough, I started experiencing shortness of breath about an hour before my 5 o’clock appoint.  And it was the worst occurrence I’ve ever had.  I was having difficulty even talking to the intake nurse about my symptoms.  The took my blood pressure (185/100!) then I met with the doctor.  He could immediately see I was in some pretty serious distress and asked me how often this condition occurred.  I breathlessly explained that I never let it get this bad since acquiring my nebulizer.  The good doc said let’s get you some nebulization going now and while I was inhaling that sweet relief, he listened to my chest and apparently didn’t like what he heard.

As is usually the case, I felt better almost immediately.  But apparently my blood oxygen was staying in the low 80s (normal is 95+) which meant I was experiencing Hypoxemia. That’s not good and the doc wanted me to visit the emergency room then and there.  And so naturally I did.

The took my blood pressure again (still over 180), did an EKG, and started me on another round of nebulaziton.

Suckin’ in the ER.

Then they wheeled me down to x-ray to get a gander at my lungs.

My first ever ride in a wheelchair on the way to the x-ray department. Whee! (I’ll be happy if it is my last ride in one though).

At least I had something to read.

By the time I got back to the ER I was feeling much better and my vitals confirmed it (blood pressure back down in the normal for me 140s, and blood oxygen back in the high 90s.  So, now I wanted to hear the long elusive diagnosis.  Doctor says it seems to be a case of Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD).  Damn, I was afraid he was going to say that!  (A couple of friends had suggested that may be my problem, but I was in denial).

There it is, the price I paid for 25 years of moderate smoking.  The fact that I’ve been off tobacco for over 2 years now is certainly a positive.  It appears my COPD is still in the early stages, and there are things I can do to slow it’s progress.  So, that’s what I will do. We all got to die of something, but my death is far from imminent.  My dad had COPD and made it to 83.  That’s a worthwhile goal I reckon.

I came home with some drugs and an inhaler and instructions to return for a follow-on visit in a week.

In the meantime, it is always possible I will run into someone like this:

And maybe she’ll live up to her name!

It’s all good.  Onward!

 

 

Stayin’ alive

Welcome to my first post of 2017!  I’d wish you a happy new year but…

….I will wish you more good days than bad instead. My goal is to get out of this year alive!

So, regular readers know that I rang in the New Year in the Philippines.  The trip turned out to be about half as good as I hoped.  I’m going to do a post about the travel portion of that visit soon.  This post is about the bad part.

Here’s a helpful hint:  Don’t take a vacation when you are sick.  I had my meds and figured I’d either get progressively better or stay about the same.  Didn’t think things could get worse until they did.

I arrived with my “tour guide” at our chosen Puerto Galera lodging, the Tribal Hills Mountain Resort pretty much on schedule at 1600 on Thursday the 29th.  I’d left home at 0430 though, so that constituted a long day of travel and I was pretty bushed.  Now, the day after Christmas PG had taken a direct hit from Typhoon Nina.  Lots of downed trees and the roads were pretty much a mess, but the resort was not in bad shape.  Except that the power was out.  No worries, they had a back up generator.  Although from 1300 until 1700 it was down for maintenance.  So, we arrived in our room without power, or more importantly, no air conditioning.  Took advantage of the wonderful deck off our room with outstanding views of the surrounding mountains and the ocean.

It wasn’t long before I noticed a bite on my arm from what I presume was a mosquito.  I belatedly got out my insect repellent and liberally applied it to the exposed areas of my body.  Shortly thereafter, a worrying rash appeared all over the arm that was bitten.  Then it spread to my neck and chest.  And then the other arm.  What the fuck?  I took a long shower and after a couple of hours the rash receded into nothingness and I felt no further ill-effects from the experience.

I had no idea just how isolated the Tribal Hills Resort actually is.  It’s on top of a mountain accessed by a narrow road that goes straight up.  I’d judge it to be a steeper climb than getting to the top of the stairs on Namsan.  And given my diminished lung capacity and bum leg, that was a non-starter.  They resort does offer a free shuttle to the base of the mountain near White Beach.  Although truth be told White Beach seemed like a sleepy little village with nothing much of interest to do there.  And the shuttle stops running at 2200 hours. So the resort has a restaurant and pool bar, who needs to leave, right?

Except late on the first night I experienced a new low in my battle with my lungs, as in a prolonged period where I had shortness of breath.  Which felt like drowning to me.  I tried not to panic which would lead to hyperventilation, but it felt like I was going to pass out at any moment.  My tour guide asked if I wanted to go the the hospital in Sabang, a good 45 minutes away under the best of circumstances.  And these weren’t the best of circumstances in Puerto Galero.  Imagining the nightmare of a small town provincial hospital in the PI, I declined the offer.  Back home during coughing jags I’d work up a sweat and found some comfort and relief having my fan blowing into my face.  I mentioned how I really longed for that fan now, and to her credit my tour guide set out on a midnight quest to find me one.  I assumed it would be fruitless because the resort basically shuts down after the last shuttle run, but she had roused a staff member who came to the door with fan in hand shortly thereafter.  It did provide a modicum of relief and I made it through a mostly sleepless night.

Things went better for most of the next day, which included a visit to Sabang.  So glad I didn’t try to go there for medical assistance!  That night I had some breathing problems again, but with the fan and some deep breathing exercises I learned from the web I was able to deal with it.  Again, just a couple hours of sleep though.  Decided to check out one day early and head back to Manila.  Call me a pussy, but the thought of not having access to emergency medical care should it be required was fucking with my mind.  Besides, there was just not much to see or do in PG and it seemed like a pointless place to ring in the New Year.

Had a nice New Year’s Eve celebration on P. Burgos street in Makati, coincidentally located very near the hotel I accidentally booked (I’ll cover that in the trip report installment).  More of the same, felt fine mostly until it came time to lay down for some sleep, which brought back the coughing fits and shortness of breath.  Managed a little more than 2 hours sleep from pure exhaustion, and woke up with the zit from hell on my cheek.  What’s up with that?

Last day in country had the worst bout yet and the tour guide suggested I get a nebulizer. I considered it briefly, but figured what I really needed was a doctor’s opinion, so I opted to wait until I got back to Seoul for that.  The plane ride from Manila went without incident, even managed a bit of sleep.  Once we landed I made it through immigration, bag claim, and customs in a jiffy.  Started walking to the AREX station and got hit hard with the lack of breath thing again.  The train departed in five minutes so there was no stopping to rest. Made it on board and collapsed in my seat.  I did my breathing exercises and told myself to suck it up and calm down, and eventually I did.  No other option really, it was after 1900 so my doctor’s clinic was long closed.

Caught a cab from Seoul Station and somehow managed to successfully navigate the cabbie to my villa’s front door through grunts and gestures.  Good thing too, because carrying my suitcase up two flights of stairs set off another lack of breath incident.  This one wouldn’t go away.  Around 0100 I was seriously thinking I needed to go to the emergency room for some oxygen.  Couldn’t think of anyone I felt comfortable calling to take me at that ungodly hour, and I figured trying to explain to 119 where I lived was pointless.  So I somehow managed to get through the night.  Through the power of sheer exhaustion I even managed a couple hours of sleep.

As I prepared to depart for Soonchunhwang hospital this morning, I stepped on the scale. 201 pounds!  A new record low for me, and down an amazing 6 pounds from last week.  I obviously haven’t been walking at all and on vacation I don’t strictly keep to diet (had a fantastic mango split for example).  The weight loss I’m certain is the result of my body and heart working overtime lately.  My fit bit advises that my resting heart rate has been in the high 80s to low 90s.  During my fits I’ve pushed it up to 130.  Prior to my illness my resting heart rate was around 70 and I only saw 130+ at the summit of the stairs to Namsan.  I DO NOT recommend this weight loss program however!

Arrived at the International Clinic without an appointment.  Receptionist asked if I preferred to see the hilarious Dr. Yoo or the sexy Dr. Kim.  I opted for Dr. Yoo who has been treating me for years.  But I felt compelled to mention in all other things I would pick Dr. Kim.  The receptionist smiled and said she understood.

Explained to Dr. Yoo (who coincidentally also has a cough and he blames Chinese pollution) what was going on, basically everything I’ve said above in more abbreviated form.  I know, why is HE so lucky?  Get over it!  I told him I needed to get this fixed.  He said if I had a fever he’d want me in the hospital.  I told him being hospitalized was something I really wanted and needed to avoid.  So, he had me do blood work, an EKG, a chest x-ray, and a nebulizer treatment.  After completing these rounds, I returned to see what Dr. Yoo’s conclusion might be.  I was happy that my hard working heart was still doing it’s job.  The blood work showed all indicators in the normal range.  The x-ray revealed that my lungs remain congested (no duh).  And the nebulizer treatment as far as I could tell was a success.  At least I wasn’t coughing.

He told me I was on the “borderline” for being hospitalized, but if I was willing to come in everyday for some nebulization we could try that.  I suggested that I just purchase my own nebulizer and do that at home. Dr. Yoo was down with that.  He also had mentioned having me hospitalized to administer intravenous antibiotics, but he was willing to try something stronger in pill form to see how that works out.  So, as of now I remain a free man!

My new best friend!

Don’t we make a nice couple? And check out that zit! Massive!

The doctor does wants me back in the morning for a follow-up, I guess to see how I’m reacting to the meds.  I’ve done two nebulizer treatments at home now and have had no issues with the cough or breathing problems.  I also had an uninterrupted two hour nap today which left me feeling surprisingly energized.

I’ll go to bed tonight feeling hopeful that the corner will indeed be turned and I can avoid the nightmare of being in a Korean hospital alone with no one to assist me.

I tagged this post in the “me, me, me” category which obviously fits.  I’m thinking I need to add a category of “aren’t you glad you’re not me?”  I suspect many of my readers come here to feel better about themselves.  Hey, glad to be of service.  No man is totally worthless, he can always serve as a bad example.

Cheers!

It’s the inevitable let down at the end of a great adventure

(In celebration of ten years of blogging here at LTG, each week for the next 52 51 weeks I will delve deep into the sewer archives of past posts to bring you a tidbit of blog history.  I had originally planned to call this series “The best of LTG”, but damn, there just wasn’t much “best” to be found.  And mediocre is too hard to spell.)

On December 30, 2010 I took note of my final day at work in “That about sums it up”. I ended that post on this hopeful note:

But I’m going to make sure this is merely the transition time between adventures.  Or go crazy.  One of those.

Maybe I am crazy, but it occurs to me now that life is always just one big transition.  I suppose that state of perpetual transition might on occasion include adventure.  More often it just hurts.

Now at last I have come to see what life is,
Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun,
And the brave victories that seem so splendid
Are never really won.

Even love that I built my spirit’s house for,
Comes like a brooding and a baffled guest,
And music and men’s praise and even laughter
Are not so good as rest.”
Sara Teasdale,

All you need is love

The nearest friends can go
With anyone to death, comes so far short
They might as well not try to go at all.
No, from the time when one is sick to death,
One is alone, and he dies more alone.
Friends make pretense of following to the grave,
But before one is in it, their minds are turned
And making the best of their way back to life
And living people, and things they understand.

–Robert Frost (from Home Burial)

My mother died this morning.  At home, peacefully in her sleep.  These past two weeks had been a struggle for her but she kept on fighting.  It was heartbreaking to watch her fade away each day.  She had stopped eating, drinking, and using her oxygen and become verbally non-communicative.  But until yesterday I could still see her “in there” behind her eyes and there was a spark of recognition when friends and family members came to visit.

The best night occurred last week when her sisters from California were here.  She was surrounded by people who loved her and she seemed to really perk up.  She actually made a little speech about what’s important in life and she said all that matters is love.  Mom told us to always love one another and everyone else we encountered.  When it was done she smiled and said, “well, I guess I gave a sermon”.  Mom was clearly loving having her family with her, that’s for sure.

She deteriorated pretty quickly after that.  She lost the ability to speak, but still would lift her arms and offer hugs to any and all takers.  Later she was reduced to moaning and grunts and all we could do was administer morphine and keep her as comfortable as possible.  She would still make eye contact and I sensed a pleading for help, but there was no help I could provide other than stroking her head.

The last days watching her lie there fighting for breath was heartrending and we could only standby watching her suffering.  This morning we woke to find her at peace at last.

You know, I have always feared dying alone.  So I thought it was a good thing that mom had family around her at the end of her days.  But I also observed that no matter the circumstances, we are all going to die alone.  Mom was physically alive, but she was also already gone to some other unreachable place.  I can only hope it was comfortable and pain free there.

Thanks for all the love you so freely gave me mom.

mother1.jpg

That about sums it up

So, today is my last day at work.  At our team luncheon I’m going to talk about “change” using the Who Moved My Cheese? book as a reference point.  In doing some Google prep, I came upon this blog post which actually captures what I’m feeling these days better than I could ever hope to express.

It’s the inevitable let down at the end of a great adventure.

But I’m going to make sure this is merely the transition time between adventures.  Or go crazy.  One of those.

The end of the road

before.JPG 

Before Government service

then-and-now.jpg 

After Government Service.

What a long, strange trip it’s been.

So, today I’m being honored with a retirement luncheon at Hartell House (the CG’s mess).  I’m never all that comfortable being in the spotlight, but these milestones in life seem to demand some ceremony so I’ll make the best of it and be gracious and appreciative.  Since it’s also expected that I make some remarks I’ve been thinking about that as well.  I was going to write down some talking points, but I’ve decided to just wing it instead.  I can’t help but think of it as akin to giving your own eulogy, but I’m going to try and keep it upbeat and hopefully I’ll avoid getting emotional.  Letting go of my job is in some ways like parting with an old friend.  I know it’s time to say goodbye, but that doesn’t make it any easier. 

So, I had some odd jobs here and there, some more steady than others.  But my career in Federal service began on October 27, 1976 when I took the oath of office and became a letter carrier with the United States Postal Service in Anaheim, California.  The starting pay was $5.25 an hour, which wasn’t that good even back then.  The job did have pretty good benefits though, chief among them from my perspective was the ability to retire at age 55. 

Well, here I am 55 years old.  So I guess it could be said that with my retirement I have now achieved the goal I set for myself 34 years ago.  But I did have some fun and some adventures along the way.  I’m not sure there is anything you can say upon reaching the retirement milestone that hasn’t been said before or that isn’t a tired cliché.  But yeah, if life is a journey then your working life is a journey within that journey.  And here’s some of my story. 

Working as a mailman was actually a pretty cool job.  Except for the dogs and supervisors with unreasonable expectations.  I carried pepper spray for the dogs and became a union steward to deal with the supervisors, so it worked out ok I guess.  A couple of years after starting with the Postal Service I could afford to have a second child, and so with some assistance from my then-wife, I acquired a son to complement my daughter. 

Now, back in those days I used to really enjoy getting out of the city for some camping out.  The in-laws owned some property in Arizona that we used for this purpose and the thought occurred that wouldn’t it be great to actually LIVE there.  So, I dropped in for a visit with the Postmaster of Prescott, Arizona and as fate would have he was looking to hire a letter carrier.  So, next thing I knew I was packing up the U-Haul truck and making the big move. 

Living and working in Arizona was like a dream come true.  I bought my first house, became president of the local union, and founded a softball association.  I was living the American dream for sure and figured I was set for life.  Ah, but things do change, don’t they?  They wife and I split up and I found myself with custody of a 5 year old and a 3 year old.  And being a single parent was really, really hard work.  I’d get up a six, feed and dress the kids, drop them at daycare, carry my mail route, pick up the kids, feed and bathe them, collapse in exhaustion, then get up and do it all over again the next day.  After a few months of this routine I cried “uncle!”.  Actually, I cried “mother” as in, mom I need some help. 

Now, my parents had retired to a small hobby farm in Poteau, Oklahoma.  The nearest city of any size was Fort Smith, Arkansas.  And after a meeting with the HR Director, Ms. Bobbie McLaine, my transfer request was approved. You know, there was some culture shock when I first moved here to Korea.  But really not as much as I experienced as a California city boy living in the rural south.  I think the natives were as wary of me as I was of them, and the first year there was the loneliest of my life.  Everyday I would berate myself as I shouldered my mail satchel and walked my route in stifling heat and humidity.  I considered moving to Arkansas the absolute worst mistake I had ever made. The kids were thriving though having quickly adjusted to life on the farm.  

So, I made it through that first summer.  And as bad as an Arkansas summer was, the winter was worse.  I was now spending my days walking up and down icy pathways and porch steps.  And falling on my ass with alarming frequency.  Even when the weather was good, the work had become routine and mind-numbingly boring. It was becoming harder and harder to imagine myself carrying the mail until I reached retirement eligibility. And so I started applying for some management jobs.  Of course, I wasn’t really qualified for anything but that didn’t stop me.  There was a job open in the safety office and I figured anyone could do that!  So, one day Bobbie McLaine, the HR Director came down to the workroom and asked me if I wanted to ride with her to a scheduled labor-management meeting in Fayetteville.  Seeing as how I was a union official and I didn’t want to be viewed as sucking up to management, I declined her offer.  A little later, Dixie (the HR Director’s secretary) came to see me and she said “John, don’t you want that safety job?  Bobbie wanted you to ride with her so she could talk with you about the job”.  Oops!  Well, I made sure I was seated next to Bobbie at lunch.  And I got the job! 

Here’s the thing about Fort Smith–it was a pretty small pond.  Which made it pretty easy to be a big fish.  In addition to safety, I was soon tasked with being the labor relations representative.  And then I took on the responsibilities of being the Public Affairs Officer.  And pretty much anything else that needed to be done when there wasn’t a body to do it.  You really learn a lot that way and I seemed to have a knack for getting it right, at least most of the time. 

Now, I’ll confess to having an ego.  And I got thinking I just might need a slightly larger pond to hold it.  Of all my duties, I enjoyed labor relations the most so I started applying for every vacancy I could find.  I finally scored an interview in Charleston, South Carolina.  So, I flew out there and found the city quite charming and to my liking.  I thought I handled the interview well and afterwards one of the panel members, Jack Mabe, asked to speak with me.  He said I have your application for a job on my staff in Columbia and I’d like to interview you for that while you are here.  Naturally, I agreed. 

Now, I didn’t have any “real” LR experience other than the ad hoc stuff I was doing in Fort Smith and my union background.   The Charleston job was a small step up, but the Columbia job would constitute a huge promotion.  The interview with Jack didn’t take long–ever done an arbitration?  No.  How about an EEO case?  No.  What about MSPB?  I didn’t even know what that was.  He then asked a final question–which job would I prefer, Charleston or Columbia.  Well, what could I say?  I told him that I really liked Charleston and I thought that with my level of experience it was a better fit.  He thanked me and I left. When I made it back to my office in Fort Smith there was a message from Jack Mabe offering me the job in Columbia.  I accepted and moved to a city I had never seen.  I asked Jack later why he picked me and he said because you didn’t know anything so you wouldn’t have to unlearn any bad habits. 

Well, I was definitely way in over my head those first few months in Columbia.  But Jack was a great mentor and I learned how to do things his way which as it so happens was also the right way.  I gained confidence and competence and starting having enough success that I was getting noticed by some higher ups.  This led to an opportunity to be detailed as the Director of HR in Roanoke, VA and to doing some arbitration’s for areas outside of Columbia. 

And then came a major Postal Service reorganization.  One of those downsizing efforts to remove unneeded layers of management that seem to take place in organizations every few years.  All I was told for sure was that my Columbia job would no longer exist and that hopefully “something” would be found for me somewhere.  It was a tough time that drug on for several tortuous months.  In the end I wound up with a promotion working for the newly created Mid-Atlantic Area (one of 10 reporting directly to USPS HQ).  The best part was I could remain in Columbia because the job was traveling throughout the mid-Atlantic states doing arbitration, EEO and MSPB hearings! 

It was my dream job.  I was on the road 3 weeks out of the month, but in those days air travel was not such a bitch.  I really liked being the hired gun that came into town to handle the toughest cases.  And I won enough of them to gain a reputation for excellence.  I did this for several years and then my boss, Barry Swinehart, got promoted to the Area Director of HR.  He said he hoped I’d be applying for his old job as the Area LR manager.  I told him I already had the perfect job and lived in a perfect city and that I had no interest in living in the DC area (Arlington, VA).  Later he asked me to at least come up for a detail in the job.  I again declined. 

Then one day he called and said “John, I need you to do me a favor”.  Well, I know enough to know that when your boss says that, he ain’t asking.  And so I became the Mid-Atlantic Area Manager of Labor Relations.  It was the biggest job I ever had.  Responsible for 80,000 employees in 7 states (and DC).  Six people working for me and four angry postal unions on my ass every day.  

There was never a quiet moment and I worked long hours.  But it was a challenge and I think it really helped me learn a lot about leadership.  Or maybe I just got lucky and hired good people to work for me.  Either way, I enjoyed a fair amount of success and I was slotted into the Executive Development Program.  I was at the top of my game and the sky was limit. 

Or not.  I’ve never been much for playing politics.  And when HQ came out with some dumb-ass policy or program, I expressed my opinion accordingly.  Suffice to say I did not endear myself to the HQ VP for Labor Relations.  And then Barry Swinehart retired.  And I was deemed “not ready” to be his successor in the Postal Executive Service.  So, I took a detail assignment as the Director of HR in Little Rock, Arkansas.  It was a little like going home again and I did enjoy my time there.  I was offered the job on a permanent basis, but I decided my future lay elsewhere.  So, I took a job with the U.S. Department of Education. 

The ED is the smallest of the cabinet level Departments with just over 5,000 employees.  I was the number 2 in LR there.  I had a fraction of my previous responsibilities but a 25% pay increase, so I went for the money.  And spent four years being bored out of my mind.  Oh there were moments when I engaged in massive battles with the union on the size of cubicles (I’m not kidding!), but otherwise I was phoning it in. 

Turns out money is not everything.  I started applying for jobs that would get me out of DC and the DC mindset.  I was hoping for a job in Iraq but the Corps of Engineers apparently weren’t looking for old fat guys at the time.  I did get an offer from the Eighth Army in Korea and I jumped on it!  I had no clue what I was in for but it turned out to be the best place I’ve ever worked or lived.  You can read six years of Long Time Gone archives if you want to relive my adventures here, but I wouldn’t recommend it. 

And so this is where my career journey will end on December 31.  It was an incredible ride.  And although I might have done some things differently, I wouldn’t change a thing.  If you get my meaning.  Anyway, I’d best be getting ready to do my retirement gig.   

Stupid is as stupid does

It’s been awhile since I’ve updated here, but the sad truth is there has just not been much going on in my life worthy of note. Well, until last night. Here’s what went down (some details were supplied by witnesses at the scene since I was not in a position to observe all that was going on).

Last night after work I decided to exit my place of residence for a couple of hours. It has turned cold again and I was craving something other than my usual dinner fare (out of a can or out of the freezer). So I wandered over to 3 Alley Pub. I’ve been there a few times but it is not one of my usual hangouts. Unless we are playing there in darts or pool league, I mostly go for the food. Which is excellent and reasonably priced by the way. Menu is varied, but the theme is German cooking. I had a bowl of seafood and potato soup with bread and butter. And a draft OB. Really hit the spot and a pretty good deal at 9000 Won.

I chatted with Tom, an acquaintence I play pool with occasionally, who was also sitting at the bar. I bought a spot in the Super Bowl pool and got invited to the 3 Alley party to watch the game on the big screen TV Monday morning. Party starts at 7 a.m. and they are expecting over 100 people. Sounds like fun, huh?

(forgive me for dragging this out, but my habit is to write boring and meandering drivel, and I don’t want to disappoint my readers who come here for reassurance, i.e. “man, I’m glad I’m not him! At least I have a life…”)

Anyway, after the one beer and soup at 3 Alley I headed over to Dolce Vita. It has become my hangout of choice, and I actually have some friends I enjoy spending time with there (in a Cliffy from Cheers kinda way). It’s about 6:30 when I arrive, and the only other customer is Rich, a contractor who works on Yongsan, who also spends a lot of time at Dolce Vita. I order another draft beer and we engage in some friendly banter with the owner, Yun Jin (YJ), and the two barkeeps, Min Jung (aka Rachel) and Halley (it’s her Korean name but I am spelling it phonetically). They were in rare form and we were all exhanging friendly banter, laughing and having a great time.

After awhile Jeff came in, which really was a pleasant surprise. He leaves Korea on Saturday and he’s been one of my best friends this past year. We had said our goodbyes on Tuesday, so I had not expected I would ever see him again. I had intended to make it an early night, but his arrival called for another round of beers. Then Duke (another Yongsan contractor) arrived. Duke is really a great guy and one of the best dart players in Itaewon. He’s really been helping me with my game and we are rapidly becoming good buds. He is smitten with Min Jung and I am always good naturedly trying to thwart his efforts in that regard. Shortly thereafter, Roger arrived. Roger’s a soldier and we have been talking about a trip to the Philippines and/or Thailand. So “my gang” of bar buds was all there and the party was on. Later a couple of Korean gentlemen arrived, one I had met before who is a patent attorney. He wants to become a lawyer in the States but feels he must improve his English first. Which is a not to subtle hint that he wants my assistance in that regard. We exhanged business cards but I really doubt I’m going to be taking on the role of teacher.

The other Korean was an older guy (meaning older than me, which makes him pretty ancient) who gave his name as “Jay”. He was pretty funny and had an interesting taste in music. He wanted to hear “Cotten Fields” (he was quite impressed that I actually knew the lyrics…”when I was a little bitty baby my mama would rock me in the cradle, in them ol’ cotton fields back home. It was down in Louisiana, just about a mile from Texarkana, in them ol’ cotten fields back home…”. Of course, my singing didn’t impress, so I found it on the Internet for him. Then he wanted to hear “When the Saints go Marching In”. I didn’t try and sing that one, but I played it for him. He grinned and assured me he was just an old redneck. Koreans never cease to amaze me.

Jeff and I moved over to the pool table where we played a five game set, of which I won three. They were all close games, but yeah, my pool is definitely starting to come around. I even won a game in league this week, which brought my ranking up to #421. There are now two players in Itaewon who are actually ranked lower. Woo Hoo!

(ok, bear with me I’m getting to the interesting part of the story. Really.)

While Jeff and I had been playing pool, Duke and Roger were throwing darts. Apparently Duke had put quite an ass whippin’ on Roger. So when they came back to the bar I suggested to Roger that after his sorry display the least he could do was “ring the bell” (which requires the ringer to buy everyone a drink). I was kidding, but Roger in his shame did in fact ring the bell. Now, I didn’t really want (or need) another drink. It was about 10 o’clock and I was ready to head for home. I was NOT drunk. I want to emphasize that point. I had warm buzz, but as my almost stellar pool performance proves, I was in control of my faculties. Since I’m a slow drinker and didn’t want to stay as long as it would take to finish another beer, I opted for a shot of Tequila. After a friendly toast we downed our shots and I began preparing to leave.

And then Jim came in. Jim is YJ’s husband and one of my favorite people. During our earlier banter, YJ told us the Korean word for “horny”. Which I don’t remember now. Anyway, her risque talk (which is quite unusual as she is normally pretty reserved) led us to speculate that Jim was going to be getting lucky. And we were all over him with that kind of talk as soon as he came in.

I remember laughing and standing up to slap him on the back and then I started to cough (the lingering effect from my recent bout with the cold/flu bug). So as not to be rude, I walked away from the bar towards the restroom…

And the next thing I know is I am lying on the floor. Surronded by the worried faces of Duke, Jim, Jeff, Roger and the Dolce Vita staff. My shirt was unbuttoned Jim was holding a cold compress on my forehead. I was bleeding and they were discussing whether or not I was going to need stitches. I had apparently knocked myself unconcious and they thought I might have a concussion. Duke told me later that he had seen the whole thing. As I walked towards the restroom, I had tripped on my own feet and went head first into the pointed end of the wall and dropped to the floor like a rock.

Laying there I didn’t feel much pain, but I was extremely embarrassed. I maintain that the fall was me being a total klutz, not a hopeless drunk. But I surmised it might appear otherwise. I will say in my own defense that I have had MUCH more to drink and not fallen on my ass (or my head). So that was my main concern, I wanted to reassure everyone I was ok and I told them I didn’t have a drinking problem…I get drunk, I fall down, no problem. Yeah, old joke but not one you tell after getting drunk and falling down, right? I hope that came across at least, because my pride hurt much more than my head.

So they helped me to my feet and led me back to my bar stool. I remember sitting down. Then the next thing I remember I was looking up into those same worried faces again. Apparently I had some kind of seizure, got red in the face and appeared to be having trouble breathing. I’m told they picked me up from the bar stool and laid me back on the floor and Duke put his fingers in my mouth to keep my tongue out of my throat. This time when I came to I actually felt quite a bit better than when I had set back down at the bar. They were all pretty freaked out though, because it appeared I was bleeding from the mouth during the seizure. I’m actually pretty sure it was just blood from the head wound though.

I had a similar seizure-like incident several years ago after donating blood. I was sitting at the table drinking my juice and eating my cookie and then the next thing I know I was sniffing smelling salts. I thought I’d just passed out but the nurse said it was more than that. The Red Cross told me I should forego future blood donations. So now I have a guilt free excuse at blood drive time.

Well, this time there was no convincing the Dolce Vita crowd that I was fine. They had already called an ambulance and I was going to the hospital. What could I do but lay there and try to save face by cracking wise. I think the fact that I had a sense of humor intact reassured everyone I was going to be ok. When I told them how stupid I felt about the whole incident, Duke suggested that my cover story could be that I got fresh with Min Jung and she hit me with a beer bottle. Which under the circumstances was a much better prospect than just being viewed as a dweeb who couldn’t hold his liquor. And I remember Roger kept saying “man, I don’t think I want to go to the Philippines with you anymore”. Bastard.

So the ambulance arrives and the attendants help me to my feet and walk me down the three flights of stairs to the street. I crawled into the ambulance and Duke and YJ accompanied me to the hospital in Hannam-dong (coincidentally right around the corner from my villa). They checked my blood pressure and it was normal. Duke has lived in Korea for ten years and was formerly married to a Korean woman. He speaks decent Korean. And of course YJ is a native so they were able to translate what had happened and clued me in to what was being said.

We get to the emergency room and I got an up close and personal exposure to Korean medicine. Now, I was fortunate that it was not your typical US emergency room scene (where I would have waited hours for treatment). There were maybe a dozen patients milling about, but I got looked at right away. One difference was that there was no paper work to speak of. I gave Duke my Army ID and that was all they asked for. Another difference was that there was no privacy, basically the treatment area was open with cots and equipment scattered about. It seemed a little disorganized and not particularly sterile (I noted a microwave oven amongst the medical devices, so I assume during lulls in activity the staff just has a little snack of kimchi and rice or something). Anyway, they took my blood pressure again and while that was happening the Korean police showed up. I guess they thought I had been in a fight. Duke was able to convince them it was just an accident and they seem satisfied and left. Then the nurse took me for a head x-ray (it came back negative, ha-ha). From there I was taken to a table and told to lie down. I guess Duke and YJ had been hustled off, because I was on my own at this point. They flushed the head wound repeatedly with some incredibly cold liquid, then pulled it open for a better look-see. This was moderately painful, but being the macho American I am (or at least that was the perception I wanted to convey) I didn’t let on. During all this there was a fair amount of Korea talk going on, but of course I have no idea what they were saying. In my imagination it was something disparaging about drunk mi-gooks, but more likely they were discussing next steps. Eventually a nurse who spoke English advised that they had called a “plastic surgeon” to give me stiches.

Well, I am 50 years old (shuddup) and these would be my first stiches. It was also my first ambulance ride. So I guess on balance I’ve been pretty lucky all these years. The surgeon arrived and they placed this heavy cloth over my face. It was a little disconcerting and it appeared to have a brown stain on it, the origins of which I chose not to specualte about. So the stiching commenced. The doc said it would hurt a little, and it did in a bee sting kinda way. I tried to ask how many and I think I heard four. I had gotten to the hospital about 11:00 and it seemed to take a long time sewing my head back together. When the cloth was finally removed from my face it was midnight. If I understood correctly they did interior stiches and exterior stiches, which I guess means the cut was deep. Instead of using one large bandage, they used about 20 small ones. I guess to keep the wound closed so the stiches would hold, or maybe they were out of big ones.

Duke was waiting when I came out and said they needed my credit card. I was a little nervous that the bill might exceed my available funds, but the whole thing came to the 105, 000 Won (just over a hundred US dollars). Now there is a BIG difference because I would have spent at least five times that much in the States. So, while I’m paying a nurse indicates she needs to give me a shot of antibiotics. I go with her to an alcove and she pulls the curtain and I start to roll up my sleeve. She shakes her head no, and points to my butt. Oh yeah, I should have known. I read on Jenn’s blog that they are real big on ass injections here. In fact, they gave me two.

Then it was over to the pharmacy for some pills which Duke said were more antibiotics and a pain killer. It struck me that I was getting all this medicine and no one had taken any medical history from me or even asked about allergies. Oh well, I have no known allergies and I’m not on any other meds, so I figured it was ok.

And that was it. I thanked Duke profusely for all his help and concern and walked the two blocks home. And damn it was cold last night.

I took the day off work today, but I’m feeling just fine. My head is sore to the touch, but otherwise I have no pain to speak of. All in all, except for my wounded pride I came out of the whole experience pretty damn well.

So there you have it, an actual Korean adventure. Hopefully, a once in a lifetime type deal, because once was definitely enough.

Regarding Canada

Ok, I admit that like many Americans I know next to nothing about (aboot?) our large neighbor to the north. I think the Canadian government’s policies concerning the GWOT are short sighted at best. I also take some issue with Canadian criticism of U.S. foreign policy when Canada has grown feeble militarily while living under the protection of the American defense umbrella. I wish Canada had maintained the moxie of her Anglo cousins the Aussies and the Brits (ok, Quebec is French, but you don’t want to get me started on the French). To be honest, I guess I just don’t see the relevance of Canada in the grand scheme of things.

But I do tend to like almost all the Canadians I meet, and there are lots of them in Korea. Some of my favorite expat blogs are written by Canadians. I think I can even name most of the provinces (as I was challenged to do one night by some Canadians I was drinking with). I just wanted to be clear in distinguishing my criticism of Canada to my generally positive regard for the people who reside in that beautiful country (I’ve seen pictures).

I actually tried to visit Canada once but they wouldn’t let me in. It was 1974 and me and a friend had hitchiked from our southern California homes to Montana. For the return trip we thought we would enter Canada through Idaho, go west to Vancouver, and back down the coast home. We both had long hair and were looking a little scruffy from our time on the road. And the potato farmers in Idaho weren’t much on giving rides to strangers (at least strangers who looked like us). Which meant we had walked the last 11 miles from Bonners Ferry to the little border crossing of Eastpark (fork?).

The crossing closed at 2100 and we got there around 2050. The Canadian border guards asked us where we were heading, and we explained our objective. They seemed skeptical and were looking at us like the vermin many folks of the time considered long haired hippie freaks to be. Then they asked how much money do you have? I recall we each had 35 or 40 dollars, which in 1974 would have kept us fed for the week we expected to spend hitching home. The guard smirked and said “that’s not enough money to get into Canada”. After the aforementioned 11 mile march I was tired, hungry and in no mood to be dicked with. So I said, how much do I need, I will wire home and get it. The guard got right up in my face and said “son, you will NEVER have enough money to get into Canada.”

Well, I figured I would just wait till the border station closed and sneak in (it’s not exactly a secure border with barbwire fences and landmines like the one just north of Seoul). I guess that border guard was reading my mind because about that time the Bonner’s Ferry Sheriff just happened to arrive. After conversing with the Canadians he says “boys, I’m going to have to take you in and run a records check on you, so just climb into the cruiser over there”. He then drove us back the 11 miles we just walked to the Sheriff’s office. Of course, we had no wants or warrants. He even offered to let us sleep in the jail that night if we wanted. We declined and slept with the mosquitos alongside the Burlington Northern railroad tracks.

Anyway, I haven’t made it back to Canada since then, but when I do go I intend to cross the border from Idaho. It’s a matter of pride.

You may be asking yourself is there a point to this post? As if not having a point has ever stopped me before. But I actually do have a reason for regarding Canada today. I found this post at Assymetrical Information on the political situation in Canada fascinating. Which is saying a lot for me given my general who cares attitude about the Great White North. Give it a read and let me know what you think or even if you care. I would especially enjoy the perspective of my Canadian reader (that would be you Jenn).

Thanksgiving in Korea

Well its Thanksgiving Day here in the ROK (or as my Korean friends call it “American Chusok”), so let me be the first to wish everyone a happy holiday.

This is the first Thanksgiving ever spent away from my family. And although I would rather be participating in those family traditions I treasure, I’m not going to sit here and lament all that I will be missing this year (I can almost smell that turkey in the oven). Instead, I will make a fruit salad, bake a pumpkin pie, and do my best to enjoy the festivities at Corine’s house this afternoon. She has family visiting, plus she has invited about 20 people to partake in the feast. So I will meet new people today, eat lots of good food, and focus on all the blessings in my life that I am often too quick to overlook.

Here are the things I am most thankful for this year:

My children, all of whom are adults now, each special and unique and well on their way to leading successful and happy lives. I don’t tell them often enough just how much I love them and how proud I am to be their father.

My beautiful granddaughter Gracyn. Someday I will make up for the lost time at the beginning of her life and will spoil her rotten. Sorry about that Mark and Renee, it’s what granddad’s do.

My parents, who are settled into a new home in South Carolina where I hope they are finding life easier. I know they are enjoying spending time with the grandchildren and their new great granddaughter.

I’m thankful that I am loved despite my many flaws and transgressions. I know I don’t make it easy to love me, and that makes me truly appreciate the perserverance required to overlook the bad qualities to see the good person I aspire to be.

I’m thankful for the opportunity to live in this fascinating country and to experience the joy of discovering the wonders of an ancient culture and its beautiful people.

I’m thankful for the new friends I have made and the old friendships I have managed to maintain. I include amongst them some people I have never met but through the power of the Internet reminded me that I am never alone. Thanks for being there with words of encouragement in my darkest days. The kindness of strangers is sweet indeed.

I’m thankful for all the brave soldiers who sacrafice so much to defend the nation that I love and to help bring the freedom we too often take for granted to the oppressed and forgotten people in this world.

I am thankful for my job which is challenging and satisfying and pays the bills. As corny as it may sound, I am truly honored to serve those who serve and I am glad to have this opporutnity to play a very small part in defending the freedom of the Korean people.

Yes, there is much to be thankful for on this day of thanks giving. I wish you all a blessed and happy day.

Transitions

Well, I promised a post this weekend so here it is. Wish I had something new and exciting to report but I have really been leading a boring life lately. Anyway, here’s the scoop such as it is.

Today my pool team played in the first round of the end of season tourney. As usual, I sucked and lost three games. Since we only lost by one, I was the weak link. It really bums me out that I let the team down, but without me they forfeit, so I submit to the humiliation week in and week out.

I did run into my buddy Jeff at the bar and we came back to my place, made nachos and watched Team America. I’ve seen it several times now, but it was Jeff’s first. Still cracks me up.

Jeff will be leaving for good come February, and another good friend (Robert) left last week. I know it is part of the life here, but I am really going to miss them. Guess I need to start making some new buds, but that is not something I’m particularly good at. We’ll see.

I am mostly avoiding the bar scene these days. Which leaves me lots of time to myself. I’m not sure either lifestyle is particularly healthy. I’ve been feeling a little blue with the approaching holidays. Thanksgiving has always been my favorite, and it just won’t be much fun without family around. I will be spending the day at a gathering a coworker is having. Her daughter and son-in-law and a couple of grandkids, plus about 10 other lonely expats. I’ll be making my fruit salad and bringing a couple of pies.

No Christmas plans as yet. I would love to take a trip but I’m not sure that will work out. I’m eligible to catch a military flight on a space available basis, Maybe Guam would be nice. Actually, truth is I’m really tired of making plans that only include me. As good as my company is, I’m pretty bored with myself. And now I have shared that joy of boredom with this pathetic post. Alas.

So, I called this one transitions. I guess I’m feeling like I’m on the cusp of one. Seeing my friends heading back to the states, and realizing that I need to get my act together and make more of my life here will hopefully spur me to make some positive changes. Cause I’ve been a real loser lately.

What I tend to do when I get this way is shut the world out. Obviously, I have not been true to my blog, but far worse, I have not been writing home, not even acknowledging repeated emails. It has oft been said that we treat the ones we love worse than strangers. Hmm, maybe I should say that has oft been said to me. It is too true. I have a selfish side anyway, but when I get into this state of mind I feel like I am walking through a make believe world and I’m the only real person in it. It is really unfair and for those of you who have wondered what’s up with that, just let me say I’m sorry and it is nothing personal. I miss so many things and I have found a real f’d up way of dealing with it. So let’s hope for a smooth transition and a new and improved outlook on life.

And hopefully no more posts like this one, eh?

Ok, let me leave you with something I found strange here in Korea. A couple of weeks ago I was making a rare appearance at Sweet Caroline’s (yes, that’s right. Even when I do go out, I don’t hang there much. Too quiet, and when I’m out I want to be around people, even if I treat them like props). But I digress. So, I’m sitting at the bar minding my own business. There are a few people there. Some of the folks from GM Daewoo I had metbefore, and they seemed genuinely glad to see me, which was nice. And a table of Korean men, doing the Korean style thing where you buy the bottle and sit and get plastered. And from all appearances they had pretty much achieved that objective by the time I arrived.

So this Korean gentlemen comes up and starts trying to talk to me, but I’m not getting a lot of what he is saying. He gives me his business card (which I can’t read) but I smile and thank him. He leaves and comes back in a few minutes and tries to chat me up again. I am grinning stupidly, nodding and saying things like “yeah, good time” and “having fun”. He leaves and starts dancing with one of the GM execs, well, not with, more like “at”, if you know what I mean. She wasn’t exactly particpating, more like politely swaying from foot to foot. Then he comes over to me, and I swear I thought he was asking me to dance . Hey politeness only goes so far, right? I’m saying “no, I’m fine, just enjoying the music”. He persists, so I kinda just swivel my bar stool like I’m really into dancing while seated. He gives up and walks off.

Then the waitress comes over and says “Mr. (whatever the hell his name was) thinks you are a very intelligent American [hey, that’s what she said] and he and his friends want you to join them at their table”. She indicated it would be bad form to not have a drink with them. Damn, I do try hard to be respectful and lord knows us Yanks get blamed for everything wrong in the world already, last thing I wanted was to be tagged as a rude American. So, I sauntered on over.

I will preface what happened next by stating up front that I recognize there are some very real cultural differences in the way males interact here. It is very common for Korean men to walk down the street arm and arm and all that. Nothing wrong with it of course, but where I’m from men really don’t touch each other. I’m just sayin’.

So, I sit down with these four obviously drunk Koreans. I am able to discern that they are stock brokers from some city down south that I also don’t recall (I had quaffed a few brews, but I was not drunk by any means). So, they want me to put some of their Korean whiskey in a shot glass and do it in my beer, boilermaker style. I decline. I don’t like whiskey all that much, and I definitely don’t like it in my beer. Did that once and almost puked on some MPs as I raced to the bathroom (I think I blogged that, but I’m not going to look it up now). So, I finally agree to just down the shot, and they seem pleased with that effort.

So, we are sitting there “talking” (if talking includes none of us understanding much of what the other was saying, well, I guess the Koreans understood each other but they weren’t getting me anymore than I was getting them). And then the guy next to me starts touching my moustache. Ok, not many Korean men can or do grow them. And mine is rather bushy. So he is touching it and saying what I suppose was “nice moustache” in Korean. I push his hand away while thanking him “kamsamnida”. I take a pull off my beer, and damn if he didn’t start stroking the ‘stache again. Alright, I wasn’t too comfortable to begin with, but this was just a bit too bizarre. I thanked him again for the compliment, and moved over as far as I could without falling out of the booth. I guess he got the hint, because he didn’t try that again.

Since they had shared their whiskey and my beer glass was empty I bought a round of beers. It would have been rude not to, Koreans don’t do “Dutch treat”. Anyway, we do some toasts and the next thing I know the guy who was so intrigued by my moustache is stroking the top of my hand. Alright, that really freaked me out. I got up and asked the waitress “what’s up with this guy touching my hand, is that some gay thing?” She laughed and said “no, it just means he likes you”. I said, “yeah, that’s what has me worried”. I told her about the moustache incident and she said “don’t worry, they are just drunk and being friendly”. Well, I don’t really want to cause an international incident, but this is just taking the US-ROK alliance a little to far for me.

About this time, the GM folks were heading out and the drunk Korean with the business card had the female exec cornered. She is from Great Britain and is really funny and very kind. She was being very polite, but clearly wanted to get the hell outta there. So, I interrupted and said how nice it was to have seen her again and she gave me a hug, thanked me for rescuing her and made a beeline for the door. I also said my goodbyes, but it took me another ten minutes before I could escape my hosts. I had to promise to come to their hometown for a guided tour about ten times before I was able to flee the scene.

So, that was the only unusual thing I have encountered of late. And no, in case you are wondering, I don’t anticipate a transition to gayness or Korean style touching or whatever they hell that was, anytime soon. Not that there is anything wrong with it….

Sodomy

Well, the title to this post will surely bring some disappointed visitors doing a Google search. Trust me, the title is not a desparate attempt to generate hits on my near-dead blog. I have a funny story to tell about that word.

But first, about last night. It was pool league again. Three more losses. I really suck. That has nothing to do with sodomy BTW. I just can’t put a decent pool game together. The team captain gave me a pep talk, encouraged me not to give up, to relax and have a good time and all that. Well, I do enjoy playing pool. I just don’t like it in a competitive kind of way. If I didn’t suck, I would. But feeling like I am letting the team down while embarassing myself gets old real quick. I would have resigned but most weeks we have the minimum number of players and that makes quitting not really an option. So my self imposed nickname is “better than a forfeit”. Well, the team won the match despite my failings last night, so I guess that’s the important thing.

Part of the problem is that I don’t even practice any more. That’s because I have basically quit the bar scene. In my former life I rarely went out drinking, and I just don’t need to acquire any more bad habits at this late stage of my life. So these days I mostly stay at the house and play CIV III, watch TV, and fall asleep on the couch. Now you know why I haven’t been posting, when you ain’t doing anything of interest, there isn’t much of interest to write about. I’ve been trying to reacquire some passion for politics, but so far its just not happening.

I do have this story to tell from last night. We have a Korean woman on our team. She teaches English to middle school age kids. And she is working hard at improving her own English language skills. She actaully does quite well, but like most of the Koreans I’ve met, they disparage their own English speaking abilities. If I could only speak Korean half as well as the Koreans with “poor English” I would have a much easier life here. “June” (I don’t know her Korean name, if I asked I’ve forgotten it) is always working on her vocabulary and brings a notebook with words she is learning to the pool league every week. Between games she will ask us the pronunciation and meaning of the words on her list, which she then dutifully writes down in Hangul. Last nights words included “guise”, “excavation”, “fraternity”, “carte blanche” and several others I can’t recall at the moment. Me and a couple of the guys sitting at the table would use the word in a sentence, try and provide alterantive definitions, and explain when and how the word might be used. After awhile I got up to throw some darts, and June came up and said I have another word on my list and the guys at the table “couldn’t help her with it”. I said, ok, what’s the word? “Sodomy” (imagine it being said with a Korean accent). I just looked at her. The guy I was playing darts with cracked up and said “go ahead, John. Tell her”.

Her innocence was charming as she waited expectantly for my answer. And my reaction was funny. I am by no means a prude and I don’t think I have any sexual hang-ups, but geez, telling this sweet young woman about sodomy was not as easy as you might imagine. So I fumbled and stumbled, and she wasn’t quite getting it. So, I just described the act. She laughed and said, “oh, something homosexuals do”. I smiled and said yes, but not just homosexuals. And no, I did not give her the slang term for the act. She can find a boyfriend to do that. Anyway, when I mentioned the Biblical origins of the word, she was familiar with the story and we thankfully moved on to other words.

That was the highlight of my evening. Which says a lot more about my life than I might otherwise admit.

“Home” again

Just returned from my whirlwind journey to Phoenix. The “train the trainer” training was good and I will busy getting ready to share my new found knowledge of the National Security Personnel System with my USFK compatriots. I got a little irked with the political commentary of one of the instructors…not really commentary but pot shots at the President, Rumsfeld and DoD. You know, I’m always up for a politcal debate, but the classroom in a DoD sponsored training course is not the time or place. I gave him a little constructive feedback in my course evaluation and let it go at that.

I had a couple of days before my flight back to Seoul, so I drove across the Mojave desert. I can get my taste of mountains here, but you just don’t have access to the great wide open spaces in Korea. It was good to have the feeling you get by being alone in the emptiness again. Oh yeah, my road led me to Laughlin, Nevada. A great place to gamble on the Colorado river. Turns out I dropped a little cash, but had a great time doing it. There was a fun married couple at my blackjack table and we spent the hours drinking, laughing, and razzing each other. So, if I figure the “free” beers were actually $20 each, I did ok.

I left Laughlin and took the long way back to Phoenix via Yuma. I got the hankering for some Mexican food and seeing as how Mexico was right there I ventured across the border. Been a long time since I had visited one of these border towns. Reminded me of Itaewon a little but the vendors were actually more agressive. My Spanish is better than my Korean, but everyone spoke good English of course. I was amazed to see the number of pharmacies, dental and doctors offices. Apparently lots of folks come down for cheap drugs and medical care. I think I would be a little nervous about doing that, but it appeared they were doing a land office business.

Anyway, the flight home was uneventful (although delayed) except the plane was full again which makes the long trip that much more uncomfortable. My connection was through Los Angeles, and it was surprising to see so many Koreans in the “non-Korean” line at immigration. And it was a LONG line to boot.

I was never able to adjust my sleep pattern on this trip, so I was always tired. I’ve done nothing but sleep since I got home. Nope, back for two days and I have not had one beer or visited any of my bar haunts in Itaewon. Even blew off playing pool last night. Just slept on the couch with the TV blaring.

So as you can see my life is as exciting as ever. I think I might be in some kind of transition. I know what I don’t what to do now, but I am not sure what I will be doing to fill these hours.

Stay tuned.

Happy Birthday Renee

Thirty years ago today my life changed in an amazing way. I became a father. And I experienced a love that perhaps I was unprepared for, but it has made all the difference. I cannot fathom what would have become of me without that joy and responsibility a helpless little baby girl brought into my world. I have not made many great choices in my life, but the decision to hold on to that tiny bundle of love more than makes up for all the other mistakes.

I was not a great father, nor can I take much credit for the wonderful young woman Renee has become. But that special love that overwhelmed me when I first saw her that afternoon all those years ago has been our bond and has sustained me through the good times and bad.

And now my little girl is the mother of her own daughter. And I see in her eyes the love she has for Gracyn is a reflection of the love I have always felt for her. But more than that, I see in my daughter the love of all those who have loved her and shaped her and guided her on her journey through life. Bridget and Beckie and Carol. Grandma and Grandpa. Pernie.

The love you give a child is a timeless thing. It is the essence of life, and to watch this miracle unfold in all its glory is the true joy and reward of parenthood.

I got more than I ever gave, and on this special day I feel truly blessed.

Happy Birthday, daughter. I love you.

Grandaughter

One of the best parts of my trip home was meeting my granddaughter Gracyn for the first time. She is a real sweetheart and had a nice smile for her granddad.

Here’s one of Gracyn with her Great Grandmothers…..

The proud parents, Mark and Renee…

And here she is with me. She has a good grip on my thumb, but I wasn’t going to drop her….