I want to be an American Astronaut.

Who remembers the first Space Shuttle launch? It was a thrill to watch. The vehicle lifted from the "launch pad" so much more quickly than the lumbering Saturn V rockets of the Apollo space program that we were used to.

I saw a space shuttle launch up close and personal once. I was aboard the USS Mississippi (CGN-40), in port; Port Canaveral, FL. Even from 10 miles away, we could hear the rumble of the rockets as the shuttle lifted off and escaped it's earthly bonds. For someone who grew up with the U.S. Manned Space program, this was the thrill of a lifetime.

I remember when the American space program began. NASA had 7 Astronauts and every little kid wanted to grow up to become one.

I remember where I was on January 27, 1967 when Roger Chaffee, Ed White and Gus Grissom perished horribly in the fire that was Apollo 1.

But these three brave men did not die for nothing. NASA learned from their deaths and the American manned space program lived on.

The program lived on and America did go to the moon. We even "Beat" the Russians getting there. That was very important back in those "Cold War" days. We were involved in a "Space Race".

We of course, landed on the Moon on July 20, 1969. I remember that hot summer night also. All anyone could talk about was the Moon Landing.

The Manned Space program became even more important to me when I went away to Military school. America's first Astronaut, Navy Commander, Alan B. Shepard, attended Admiral Farragut Academy. He graduated in 1941. You can be sure that the space program was discussed at length at school.

After the Moon landings and the near disaster of Apollo 13, America moved on to Skylab. It was an interesting program but not nearly as exciting as rockets to the moon. But, still, "Sky Lab" was a "Manned" program.

In 1983, the Space Shuttle "Challenger" had an historic crew member. A Woman. The first American woman to go to space. Dr. Sally Ride was an inspiration to all who observed her and a true pioneer of space exploration. Sadly, Dr. Ride died in 2012. Much to young for such a brilliant person to be taken from us. I'm sure she had much more to give us all.

On January 28, 1986, there was another manned space program disaster. This time 7 Astronauts perished. Unlike the Apollo 1 disaster, were the public did not see the fire happen; the loss of Challenger was very public. No one can forget the images of the space craft exploding a mere 72 seconds after liftoff. Until that moment, it had been a beautiful day. 7 brave explorers perished that day;

Francis R. (Dick) Scobee, Michael J. Smith, Judith A. Resnik, Ronald E. McNair, Ellison S. Onizuka,
Gregory B. Jarvis and Sharon Christa McAuliffe, the first teacher to fly in space. 

Manned space flight is not without risk. Nothing in life is without risk. When we strive to acheive that which has never been done before, there must be an element of danger. So, it is with the manned exploration of the heavens.

On February 1, 2003; just minutes before it's touchdown at it's home base in Florida, the Space Shuttle "Columbia" disintegrated. It seems that it damaged itself during liftoff and that damage, seemingly minor when it occurred, caused a catastrophic failure of the left wing upon reentry. The space vehicle was lost, again with 7 brave souls aboard.  Rick D. Husband, William C. McCool, Michael P. Anderson, IIan Roman (Israeli Air Force), Kalpana Chawla, David M. Brown and Laurel Blair Salton Clark were the crew of Columbia.

The shuttle Atlantis touched down on 21 July 2011 and the Space Shuttle program came to an end. With this final mission, the American era of leadership in manned space flight ended also.

The government can site budget woes all they like but the fact remains, The President did not want to send Americans into space any longer. Leadership is not of value in this day. Risk taking is no longer of value. Achievement is not a priority.

I have cataloged the various human losses in the American space program. Those losses are only on the launch pad or in missions. I did not begin to count lives lost in training accidents. There are many. But, like the mission deaths, they were not without value. These brave people did not die in vain. They perished in search of something greater than themselves. Something greater than the "Program" or even our wonderful Nation. They died as explorers. They were seeking knowledge of what may lie beyond our imagination.

It is imagination that fuels human advancement. The device you are reading this blog on this very minute is a result of the American Manned Space Program.  Electronic miniaturization was required to launch mankind into space and it was developed primarily by Americans in support of the space program.

Has anyone used "velcro"? A space program invention. I could go on but, you get the idea.

I have heard the complaint that the United States is no longer the leader in Science and Math, in schools.  Why? Could it be that many American children don't see the value of learning math and science? I'm guessing. But, I can also guess that if we had some American Heroes that our youth could identify with, say, Astronauts; maybe the tide of mediocrity could be stemmed and we as a nation could become the leaders we used to be.

Manned space flight and exploration is difficult and dangerous. Americans have never before turned away from a difficult or dangerous task. It's time we turned back the clock and went back into space as the leaders of the free world. We are Americans, we are leaders!

"We will go to the moon and do the other things; not because it is easy but, because it is hard..."

John F. Kennedy, President of the United States

From Cub Scout to Marine.

At 57 years old, I usually don't feel old. In spite of various health issues, surgeries, hospital stays and a long list of doctor visits; I don't usually feel old.

That is the case on normal days. Today is not a normal day. In about one day, a child that I watched grow from Cub Scout to Eagle Scout. From boyhood to manhood reaches a milestone that few reach. Many may aspire to reach this goal. Many dream of it. Large numbers of young Americans try. But, in the end, few actually do achieve this goal. The goal I speak of is to earn the title of "United States Marine".

I have wittnessed the journey from Civilian to Marine many times. Twice with my own children. My oldest daughter and youngest son are both Marines. My son still serves as a Corporal of Marines in the reserves. I have watched friend's children make the journey. I even have family members who started this amazing transformation, only to fall short in one way or another and be sent home.

When a Recruit is sent home through physical disability or inability it is due to no fault of his/her own and I would not consider that a failure. Many Recruits are sent home due to medical conditions not discovered in the regular physical screening of military entrance. It's not easy to become a Marine.

So, I have seen both the joy and sadness that entrance through those gates at Parris Island, South Carolina can bring.The Military and especially the Marine Corps is not for everyone.

I've known the young man who is on my mind today, for 16 years or more. He is my second son's best friend. These boys grew up together. They were Boy Scouts together. They even made Eagle Scout on the same day.

His mother and I have grown to be very good friends over the years. We talk often and both have a fondness for good coffee. Over the years, we have consumed a lot of coffee together as we watched our respective children grow to adulthood.

This particular young man did well in school. He has worked all of his life. As a youngster, he could always be found around the neighborhood, finding something worthwhile to do. When he was of age, he went right to work and has been steadily employed since. Never in trouble, he went about his life and all were proud.

But, for whatever the reason, this young man wanted more. So, he worked hard to join the Marine Corps. He ensured that he was in the proper physical condition. He worked hard to learn the knowledge required of new Recruits before he left for "Boot Camp".

Now, his journey as a Recruit is nearly complete. By 8 o'clock tomorrow morning, he will have completed his final challenge of Recruit Training. The Crucible.

The Crucible is an infamous 54 hour, grueling test of stamina, leadership, grit, determination and values. It is the culmination of an intensive 12 week training regimen which requires the Recruits to use every skill and all the knowledge they have learned since arriving at Recruit Training. At the end of this test, there are 3 prizes.

They first of all will no longer be Recruits. Upon completion of the Crucible, they will have earned the title "United States Marine".

Second, they will be given the symbol of their new status. Their Drill Instructors will shake their hands and give them the Eagle, Globe and Anchor. This symbol is know around the world as the insignia of only United States Marines.

Finally, the new Marines will eat the "Warrior's Breakfast." This is an all you can eat meal that these Marines have earned. Part of the Crucible is that the Recruits are on "Short" rations. They have not had 3 meals a day. They are hungry. But the food is not the most important part of this meal. The Drill Instructors eat with their new Marines. These Drill Instructors, who have been nearly untouchable for the last 12 weeks, sit with their former Recruits and talk to them as Marines. They do this because these men and woman are no longer Recruits. They have earned the coveted title; United States Marine.

So, today, as I feel my age, just a little bit when I think of this little boy who is now a man and nearly a Marine, I am proud. Proud of him for his accomplishment and proud that we as a Nation can still produce such fine individuals that they are willing to put themselves second and serve a cause that is greater than themselves, greater than all of us.  As he stands at attention at Morning Colors tomorrow, for the first time as a Marine; all who have served before him stand with him.

Yes, that little boy I once knew is gone and in his place, tomorrow morning will stand a United States Marine.

Well Done! Semper Fidelis Marine!

From the Halls of Montezuma
To the shores of Tripoli
We fight our country's battles
In the air, on land, and sea;
First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
Of United States Marine.*

*Verse 1, "The Marine's Hymn"

Hello Autumn!

I think that I like Autumn best of all the seasons.

I love the cold snap in the air in the morning, yet the temperatures remain moderate during the day. It's such a nice change from the heat of the summer.

When spring arrives, flowers bloom and leaves grow on trees. It's very nice, but I truly enjoy the colors of the leaves as they are shed from the trees in preparation for winter. It's nature at it's most beautiful.

Fall also means some special times with family. I love to cook and fall provides an opportunity to fix family meals that just scream the season change. Pork with roasted apples. Slow roasted beef in home made tomato sauce and red wine. Apple pies or better yet, Pumpkin pie. These are just a few of the foods that really mean fall to me.

As a child, I always looked forward to the foods of the Autumn. There was something satisfying about foods that were cooked low and slow.

My family still enjoys the stews and pot roasts of the fall. Lots of root veggies cooked with the pot roast in the oven. There just isn't anything that says home better.

If you get tired of "inside" cooking, the fall in the mid-atlantic region of the country allows for grilling outside. We make a meal of grilled pork chops outside and veggies cooked slowly with apples roasted with them to add sweetness.  Delicious.

Soups are a wonderful way to end a day in the fall. You can put a soup together in no time and let it cook slowly. You don't even need a crock pot. Put the oven on low and let the soup cook away. Pick up some crusty bread on the way home and you have a great meal.

A pot of chili can turn into 3 meals with no problem. Chili on Sunday with football, Chili over rice on Tuesday (The Chili will be better after the rest in the fridge.) Serving the Chili with beans over rice and you have a protein that is healthy and filling all on it's own. Finally, on Thursday, you only need a little Chili to go on the Hot Dogs to go with the Thursday night Football game.

The fall is full of possibilities.

A steamy cup of hot chocolate is best on an Autumn evening. If you have a fireplace, it's the time of year when you get to relight it and enjoy the coziness of the fire. It's to warm in the evening to do that in summer.

The fall means planning for Holidays. It's all about family. Family, after all is the most important thing we have.

Enjoy this time of year. Take an evening walk and breath the cooler air. You'll be glad you did.

Second Chances.

Today I am happy. No, it's not because I've taken happy pills. Although, the happy pills pictured above are non-narcotic and may be habit forming. They are made of chocolate! I thought starting today off with a little whimsey would be a good thing.

You see, today is a very special day. It's not a sad day, by any means. Today, I was given a very special gift. I was given a second chance at life.

For years, I had heart problems. Because of my heart, I've spent so much time in the Naval Hospital, the staff on the step down ward knew me by sight. We used to joke that they had a room with my name on it at all times. The Emergency room folks also knew me by my first name. I had 13 stents in my heart.

Around the middle of September, last year, I was once again experiencing chest pain and off to the ER at the Naval Hospital we went. Tests showed I had indeed had another heart attack. After waiting a day or two for some medications to leave my system (I was taking a diabetes medication that interferes with imaging.), I was taken into the Cath lab and the doctor said those famous words that ultimately changed my life: "You need bypass surgery and you need to quit smoking or you're going to die."

While still in the lab, I met my surgeon. It's all kind of a fog since I was heavily medicated at the time. By the time I was returned to my room, I was lucid enough to remember things more clearly. I remember this as clear as day. My wife was in my room, waiting for me. As I was wheeled in, I told her to get rid of any cigarettes we had at home. She told me that she already had. This time, I was not upset about it.

I informed the doctors of my resolve to quit smoking and in an effort to assist me, I was prescribed the medication "Chantix". Unfortunately, one of the side effects of this medication is chest pain! So, the evening before my bypass surgery, I was admitted to the hospital as a precaution.

I remember being prepared for surgery. It all had a surreal quality to it. I had to keep reminding myself that this was not a movie or TV program. This was real life. My Life! I remember saying goodbye to my wife and youngest daughter. My oldest was home with their new baby. In spite of the medications, I began to get scared.

I was wheeled down a long hall and through several sets of heavy double doors. Eventually, a door opened to a room that was very brightly lit. It was a beehive of activity. People in masks and surgical gowns were all over the room busily setting up equipment. It seems louder in my memory than it probably was. Although I couldn't see any faces, everyone who spoke to me, knew my name. They all wanted to know my birthday. I remember thinking that maybe they were planning a surprise. (Good drugs.)

I honestly don't remember my surgeon coming in the room. Someone, I assume an anesthesiologist warned me that they were putting medication into my IV and I needed to count backwards from...

I woke up more than a week later. The stories of my recovery are for a different time. I remember being a little frightened of my surroundings. I remember the looks on my family's faces. There was a mixture of fear and relief.

Eventually I was moved to a room on the "Step-down" ward. The place I had started. There have been 1 or 2 more hospital stays since. all related to known complications of open heart surgery. But, on the whole, I'm doing well.

I go to the Cardiologist today. The last time I had seen her, she reduced some of my medication. That made me very happy. She told me that I was doing well and she was pleased.

My doctor also told me something very interesting. I had been following the prescribed program after this ordeal. She credited my following it with my success in recovery. But, she said that many post-surgical patients, do not. It seems that many people believe that, if they can be saved once, they can be saved again. My doctor told me the sad truth. Unfortunately, many of those patients who don't "get with the program" post-surgery do not survive long enough to make it to her table for "saving" a second time.

I read an interesting statistic. Even in this day and age of amazing medical science, the leading indicator of a second heart attack is (can you guess?) death!

So, you can be sure, I will do my best to follow the doctor's advice. I don't want to join those statistics.

It would seem that my "second chance" is going well. I just got back from my Cardiologist. She tells me that I am doing just fine and doesn't need to see me for 6 more months. She did indeed tell me that I have become the exception to the recovery rule because I am following the "program". She was glad that I got to see my granddaughter's 1st birthday. If I keep going as I have been, there is no reason why I shouldn't see her 20th birthday or even more.

Not to bad for a guy who, just a year ago needed open heart surgery. Thanks to the staff of the Naval Hospital. Thanks for the second chance. I won't squander it.

Family

We go through our lives day by day and take for granted the things that are most important. We need to remember to not be so concentrated on the "important" things in life that we forget about the most import thing there is. Family.

I am a Dad. I love being a Dad. I've always wanted to be a Dad. I've felt that being a good father to my children was the most important job in the world. It's why I'm here. For the most part, my children have rewarded me with happiness and joy.

That's not to say that there were not difficulties along the way. There still are. My children are grown. Two still live at home. Our oldest son is handicapped and will stay with us. That's fine. We love him. Our second son moved back in with us after completing an enlistment in the Marine Corps. We are glad he is with us. Thanks for your service, Son.

Like my two daughters, my youngest son will move on with his life eventually. How long it will take, I have no idea. It will take as long as it takes. That's fine with me. In the mean time, my wife and I have our 2 boys with us.

I thought being a Dad was fun. Playing with the children after a long day was the part of the day that I looked forward to the most. I used to love bed time too. I would read or tell stories to the children when it was time to put them to bed. I loved that.

I was just talking to my oldest daughter today about when she was growing up. I said that we were buddies. We still are. She smiled, looked at me and said "Yup". Warmed my heart.

As I got out of the car, I looked in the back seat at my little granddaughter. She is so precious. She was wearing "footie pajamas". I always loved seeing the children in those. There's something about them that just says, "Little Kid". As I said goodbye , the little one looked up at me and smiled. Well, I'll tell you; that melted my heart. What a cutie.

I have a friend who's grandson is 5. He is a skinny child  with a mop of flaming read curls on top of his head. You can spot him from a mile away. If he's smiling, make that 2 miles away. He's just a cute little boy. I've watched this child grow from a little baby to the little boy he is today. His Grandmother is devoted to him. She told me that she fell in love with him the second she saw him for the first time. She said that being a grandparent is the greatest experience in the world.

Now that I am a grandfather, I would tell my friend, she was not descriptive enough! Is there something better than best?  Being a grandparent is Supercalafragilisticexpialidocious!

Over the weekend, another friend of mine flew from Florida to North Carolina, to visit her granddaughter. Again, I've seen pictures of this beautiful child since the day she was born and have watched her grow for 3 years. She is indeed a beautiful little girl. But, when I saw pictures of this little angel with her grandmother, the look on their faces said "happiness and Love" all at the same time.

When I am feeling low for whatever reason, I look at a picture of my granddaughter. For just a little while, there are no more troubles. When I get the chance to see her and hold her, there is nothing I'd rather do.

My daughter is a wonderful mother. Her husband is a great man. He's a great provider and is dedicated to his family. They are the perfect pair to raise a child. My granddaughter is a happy child. For that, I sleep well at night.

I've had the chance to raise my children. Now it's the next generations turn. I hope I have done a good job. I know that the next generation will do well. Grandma and Grandpa will always watch over them as they raise their families.

The most important job never ends.

Guilty Pleasures

It's been a pretty serious week. I thought it was time to lighten the mood a bit.

What's your "Guilty Pleasure"? We all have those 1 or 2 things in life that just make us happy, above most others.

I love food. I make no bones about it. I've watched cooking programs all my life. I rejoiced when the Food Network came  into being. Now there is also the cooking channel. If I could, I'd go to Culinary School, just for the joy of cooking.

Savory foods are wonderful. To me, there's nothing that says home more than to walk in a home and smell dinner cooking. I made chili Monday. It was the first pot of the season. It looked great in the pot but, the real pay off was when my wife came home and stopped in her tracks when she came in the house. "I smell delicious Chili!" The smile on her face said it all. She was home! It's the best feeling in the world when I have made a meal that everyone enjoys.

Although I love savory foods. There's something about desert that I really just admire. The smell and look of a well put together desert just really does it for me. I envy and respect anyone who can bake and decorate a cake.

I watch "Cake Boss" all the time and am just floored by the work he does by hand with a piping bag.

When we were growing up in NewJersey, in Mom's list of errands was a stop at the local bakery. What a wonderful place! The smells of pastry mixed with freshly baked bread was just something. If I was good, I might even get a sugar cookie as a treat from the lady behind the counter. I miss real bakeries. There are few left.

My mother was not much of a baker. But, during the holidays, she would bake treats that just couldn't be beat. Jelly Roll, Pound Cake and the like. Mom used to have to hide the baked deserts from us kids. My brother Mickey's favorite cake was a Marble Cake made by our Grandmother. To this day, I can't eat Marble Cake without thinking of Mickey or Grandma.

Cup cakes are a great treat. I could never keep cup cakes in the house while the children were growing up.  What could be better than a piece of cake that was designed to come with you? Last year, after my Heart Surgery, my youngest daughter and I made cup cakes decorated with broken hearts and brought them to the Cardio Thoracic and the Cardiology clinic. My daughter made cupcakes decorated with "googley" eyes on them for the Ophthalmology Clinic when they started taking care of my Glaucoma. (Yes, I'm falling apart.). We bring the goodies to the Naval Hospital often, to show appreciation not only for the Doctors, Nurses and Hospital Corpsmen and other support staff. It's nice to give a surprise to people occasionally. It supports the troops.

We show our care for people with food. It's a long standing tradition which crosses most cultural lines. I have visited homes in every part of the world and from the "Richest" to the "Most Humble", I was always offered food when I arrived. No guest to my home can be there long without being offered food of one sort or another. My son's coffee is legendary.

Coffee might be a guilty pleasure for me. Those who know me know that I love my coffee and rarely turn down a cup of the hot black brew. I'm drinking a cup now. The smell of good coffee is intoxicating. It reminds me of so many good things in my life. There is always coffee available in my home. Coffee also has significance to me as a Sailor. Shipboard, there is always coffee available. If your shop didn't have it's own coffee mess; you could always get a cup of hot coffee on the mess deck. Ships run 24 hours a day and the Sailors aboard are often times fueled by Navy Coffee. The United States Navy even has it's own special blend of coffee.

But, I have not yet mentioned my absolute favorite, above all others, guilty pleasure.

An Ice Cream Cone. Not a bowl of ice cream. Not a Sundae. A banana split is confectionary delight. I do enjoy one occasionally. But, for my money, given a choice; Vanilla Ice Cream on a traditional hard cone (I think they call them sugar cones in the store) can't be beat.  When I was thinking about writing this, I had to decide which flavor is my favorite. There are so many choices and I decided on good old fashioned  Vanilla. It's simple and unpretentious. You can do so much with Vanilla but, on my cone, I'd like nothing but ice cream, please.

Thank goodness for sugar free ice cream. There are some brands out there that taste wonderful. Otherwise, it would be a long time between cones for me.

Who remembers walking down the street or the boardwalk or on the beach with an ice cream cone? It wasn't just the taste and refreshing cold of the treat. We always tried to keep the melting ice cream from escaping. We didn't want any to be wasted.

At one point, I guess I was a young teenager; my Mother had decided that the language of us kids had become way to "Salty". She instituted a fine system. Quarters would wind up in the swear jar. There was only one problem. When Mom felt that the jar was full enough, she would take us to Dairy Queen. These were the days when Dairy Queen only sold ice cream. No burgers or hot dogs or fries. Certainly nothing as elaborate as today. We would all get ice cream cones.

An ice cream cone can always make me feel better. I had one last night after dinner. It made me feel much better, after the emotional day.

So, my friends, I suggest that if you are feeling low, need cheering up or just want a treat; have an ice cream cone! There are more flavors than you can imagine now a days. I'm sure you'll find one you like. It will put a smile on your face. I promise. No need to feel guilty.

2 years later...

Let me start by saying, this probably won't be an "upbeat" blog post. Sorry about that.

Two  years ago today, my older brother, Joseph Michael (Mickey) died. He was just 21 days past his 57th birthday. That being said, I have to be honest with you. He died before his time, due to his own choices. He succumbed to Alcoholism.

His battle with drink started early in life. He would drink to excess when we were teenagers together. But, as he got older, things got worse for him. I'm sure the Psychiatrists/Psychologists/Counsellors could give me all sorts of reasons for my brother's addiction and self destructive behavior. I'm not really interested in hearing about it. He didn't care enough about the people who cared about him to get help. Help was available. It was offered. It was all but thrown at him.

Mickey used to call me every day. Sometimes, we would talk about his drinking. He would say "I'm a drunk. So what? I'm only hurting myself." Well, to the short sighted, that might seem true. If we think about it, we realize that it's not. It was very painful to watch my brother decline over the years.

Mickey was a very intelligent person in his younger days. He was a wiz at math. Higher math held no mystery to him. He was a Mechanic by trade. He worked professionally on "Big Rig" trucks. He also loved being the "Shade tree mechanic". If I had car trouble, Mickey could fix it over the phone. It was great to watch. I know the principles of the internal combustion engine, couldn't fix one.

When my brother was sober, he was fun to have around. He was generous.

He never did get over the abuses he suffered by the hands of our father. We just avoided that subject. It was a sure way to bring out his ire. Decades after our father's death, Mickey just couldn't let the past go.

My brother joined the Navy when he was 17. He got Mom to sign the required permission. He served 3 years of active duty, all at sea. He rose from Seaman Recruit to Yeomen Third Class (YN3/E-4) in less than 3 years. No small feat. He was given the responsibility as the ship's Legal Yeomen. He was very proud of his Naval Service, as am I.

Mickey was married in 1977. Divorced in the mid '80s. His son Joseph Jr. (Jay) is a wonderful young man. My nephew is successful and in a long term, happy relationship with his girlfriend. I talk to Jay regularly, just to touch base.

Folks, I don't know what can be done. But, I ask, if you know someone who has an addiction problem.  Do what you can to get them help.

Especially today, I miss my brother, Mickey. Rest Well, Sailor.



Lord God,
by the power of your Word
you stilled the chaos of the primeval seas,
you made the raging waters of the Flood subside, and calmed the storm on the sea of Galilee.
As we commit the body (earthly remains)
of our brother to the deep,
grant him peace and tranquility
until that day when he
and all who believe in you
will be raised to the glory of new life
promised in the waters of baptism.
We ask this through Christ our Lord.*


*U.S. Navy, Catholic Burial at Sea Prayer

If I only knew then...

I struggled growing up. I was always nervous and afraid. I look back and have wondered many times: If I only knew then, what I know now.

Haven't we all said that? The "What if" question is kind of eternal. Movies have been made about it, books written. We read and watch all, looking for the answer and the answer is simple. Our mothers told all of us the answer from a very young age.

Be yourself. Stop looking to impress anyone. Stop the worry.

If you want to start a relationship with someone, as kids, we fret over what to say and how to say it. Girls especially are taught to be concerned with wearing the right cloths and projecting the "right" image. Will this person or that other person like me? It's the life of a teenager. For boys, there is the same pressure, it just shows itself in a different way. If you are not athletic, you've got a real social problem as a male. I was in the band.

But the situation has gotten worse. If you are different in some way, as a child you become a target. Bullying now has raised the attention of the media to the point that many feel that it is somehow a new problem. Of course, we know now that it's' not. All of us were affected in some way by bullying. I read an article on line today about an 8 year old who asked Santa to please stop his sister from being bullied. That was the gift he wanted for this Christmas. How sad. Not that the child wanted to help his sister but that his sister's problem had evolved into such a monster that an 8 year old was willing to give up Christmas to make his sister's life better.

I think back. I was awkward socially. It's difficult growing up insecure and trying to project confidence. That is how I felt. If only I knew then, what I know now. There were a lot of actors growing up. There still are.

After raising 4 children, I found that most of the social problems that existed in my world as a kid, still remain in the world of kids today. The biggest difference is how the kids deal with the problems.

I don't know how many times I advised my children to just be themselves. Bad news doesn't get better with age. If you have something on your mind, spit it out. If necessary, be direct.

I suppose I am just saying, be honest with yourself. Be who you are and be happy in your own skin. We have enough pressure in our lives, we don't have to add to that with self doubt.

We go through this life worried. My sister once told me something about worry that has stuck with me since. Worry is useless. When you worry about something, you spend all this energy. If what you were concerned about happens, all that energy didn't change anything. If it doesn't happen, you wasted that energy for nothing also. You can't win when it comes to worry.

If I had only understood that as a kid.  So, don't worry. Dive in and experience life. There will be disappointments. I can promise there will be failures. Go ahead anyway. Take all the information you have on the subject and make the best decision you can with what you have to work with. You may be surprised with the result.

It's been a year now, since I've had a cigarette. I'm really proud of myself. Now, as an adult, I know I should not have smoked. I thought I'd fit in with or impress my brother and his friends. I should not have worried about wether they liked me. But, I did what I did. It's over with now. I'm glad I reached my goal and stopped. No regrets. Just thinking...

Aftermath of a senseless act.

WASHINGTON (Sept. 17, 2013) Secretary of Defense Chuck Hagel, right, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Gen. Martin E. Dempsey, Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Jonathan Greenert, Secretary of the Navy (SECNAV) Ray Mabus, and Adm. James A. Winnefeld Jr., Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff render honors during a wreath laying ceremony at the U.S. Navy Memorial. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 1st Class Arif Patani/Released) U.S. Navy

I am no one special. Just a simple United States Sailor.  The ceremony pictured above, conducted in Washington, DC, at our Navy Memorial is a fitting tribute to those who were senselessly killed yesterday at the Washington Navy Yard. I don't understand such violence.

I am just a simple United States Sailor. I served in ships. The ships were armored and armed. They had the most advanced systems in the world. They were designed to fight to protect American lives and the lives of our allies. I was taught that the enemy would present himself before us and we would recognize him when he threatened us. We could fight him at sea, and win. Some might perish in the fight but, not due to lack of training or equipment. This was an honorable undertaking.

This enemy came, not in a ship. Not as an agent of a foreign land. He came as a thief. Disguised as a friend. He killed friends. He had no Honor. I'm just a simple United States Sailor and I do NOT UNDERSTAND!

But, in the end I, like all Sailors, carry on. I received a call this afternoon from one of my doctors. She is a fine Naval Officer. A Captain. She was at her post, performing her duty as were the rest of the Sailors, Marines,  Coast Guardsmen, Airmen and Soldiers on duty daily. They too do not understand.

So, as is my habit, I think. Why am I so worried about trying to understand a senseless act? We are conditioned to want to understand why things happen. But, sometime things happen that are not understandable. Once I realized this fact, I was able to gain a calm. Don't try to understand the senseless action of a madman.   Instead, celebrate.

Yes, celebrate. The lives of the fallen are worth so much more than the perpetrator. He was a thief. He stole life, our most precious gift was ripped from 12 who never did harm. Celebrate the lives of the 12.

As I did yesterday, and as I will do every day, I will remember the 12 fallen. I will remember  those in uniform and out, who quietly go about their lives, doing their duty. As they continue to protect each of us, we will keep them safe in our hearts. 

That is something that I DO UNDERSTAND.

Heroes and Cowards

Yesterday, 16 September 2013 will be remembered as infamous because of the actions of a former Naval Reservist who, for reasons known only to himself; gunned down numerous people who were doing their job in support of the United States Navy at the Washington Navy Yard. 13 people lost their lives, including the shooter.

As of this writing, it is unknown why. We may never know. For whatever the gunmen's reason, he seemed to be acting in the fashion of our time. Violence. So many times, we see the same thing, violence to publicize dissatisfaction with someone or something. Wether it be the cost of gas, a government policy or unhappiness with the way a person looked at you. We see violence.

The shooter, in this case was a former Naval Reservist. He had served in the Navy for several years. He was supposed to serve the Nation. His watch words were supposed to reflect the Core Values of the Department of the Navy. Honor, Courage, Commitment.

I have long maintained that those in our society who truly understand the meaning of those words, do not need to receive special training to live up to their meaning.

We must get back to the idea that we all, as citizens of the world live for something larger than ourselves. If we are disheartened, frustrated or just plain unhappy with the hand life has provided us, rather than resort to violence, we deal with it in an acceptable manner. We work to make a better world for ourselves and our children.

Examine closely, the picture above.

The Gentleman in the middle is Roy Hawthorne, Navajo Code Talker, USMC. He is seen here walking the last half mile of a 2 mile parade route, with the help of two Navajo Marines. (To read a short story about Roy and the Navajo Code Talkers of World War II, see my Facebook page.

The scene played out in this photograph exemplifies the spirit of America. "Home of the Brave". Please note that I used Mr. Hawthorne's name here. I have not used the name of the Navy Yard shooter. The shooter perpetrated a cowardly act of violence against unarmed civilians for some unknown reason. This was an act of terrorism. It will be remembered as such. But no act of terrorism has ever succeeded in gaining it's objective. Terrorism has a 100 percent failure rate. I will not immortalize a mad man by using his name here.

The brave Marines pictured above are the embodiment of success through adversity. Roy Hawthorne succeeded in the saving of countless lives in the Pacific Theater during World War II. When faced with a threat to his freedom and the freedom of his country, he and hundreds of thousands of this country's youth faced that threat not by attacking some government building or installation. They served the cause that was greater then themselves. 

The Code talkers faught so that others may live in freedom even after this country had treated the Native Peoples of this continent unfairly.  Roy Hawthorne did not need to receive special training to understand what Honor, Courage and Commitment meant. He learned the meaning of those words each and every day of his life. He still embodies the meaning of those core values.

Note the two Marines helping Mr. Hawthorne complete the two mile parade. Both are modern day Marines, also Navajo. They are the heirs of the commitment forged in the blood of those who went before. It was their honor to assist their brother Marine. They too are living examples of those core values.

So, I will not remember the name of the coward who killed 12 people at the Washington Navy Yard today. I will remember the picture of a hero I saw on my Facebook News Feed this day.  

Honor the fallen by remembering the heroes among us, not the cowards. Instead of showing our children pictures of the chaos at the Navy Yard today, Maybe we should concentrate on showing them the heroes who always think of others and serve a cause that is bigger than any one person. 

To Mr. Roy Hawthorne, Navajo Code Talker, USMC and all the code talkers, for their service and so much more. My most heartfelt thanks. Semper Fidelis Marine.

Thanks to my friend, Tom Coffey for posting the picture via "Seal of Honor".

John Lennon was right.

My wife and I were only married for a short time when we lived in Navy Housing, just outside of Washington, DC. The housing area was affectionately called "Dog Patch" by the residents and most of the Naval personnel in the area. The homes could not be described as "Plush". Quaint or "Cozy" would be a better term. But, we only had one child at the time, and my wife and I liked the coziness.

We drove a Chevrolet Cavalier. It was new when we got it. It seemed a sensible vehicle for our new family. White with 4 doors, it was the typical middle class economy car. As far as we were concerned, we had a nice life.

I was stationed at the Pentagon, working in support of the leaders of the Navy and the Nation. I felt wonderful.

This modest lifestyle was a far cry from how I grew up. For the most part, the family home was in a small suburb of New York City called Mountainside, NJ. It was a 4 square mile borough about 20 minutes driving (more or less) from the city. Upper middle class families populated it's well kept streets and there was very little crime. Driveways were filled with high end vehicles. I thought most families drove Cadillacs or Lincolns. We had a large swimming pool and for most of our formative years, my sister and older brother and I went to private schools. My younger brother went to public school only because he was thrown out of private school. (That's a whole other story.)

As it happened, while I was stationed at the Pentagon, a good friend of mine, whom I was stationed with years before, was assigned to the Bureau of Naval Personnel, just across the street from the Pentagon, at the "Navy Annex". His family lived in Hampton Roads, VA and he used to go home on weekends. Since I knew his family from when we were stationed in Scotland, occasionally Larry would invite us all to come down and spend the weekend. We would take my car, as it got great gas milage and we didn't have to move the car seat for the baby.

After one such weekend, We had almost reached home. Wife and child were asleep in the back seat, my friend asked me a question that has stuck with me all this time. He said: "Bob, you live in a small, modest home, you drive an economy car, you're enlisted in the Navy. In short, you live a "working man's" life. You grew up with money. You had all the luxury someone could want. How do you make that adjustment?"

It was late at night. I was tired. So, my answer was short, but truthful. I replied that those luxuries I grew up with were my father's. He made it very clear that we were living this life of comfort through his largess.  That's how he put it. "Largess". I was 5 or 6 when I first heard that word. Imagine looking that up at that age. I barely knew what a dictionary was, forget looking up a word like that.

But, I digress. My father's largess provided our lifestyle. My lifestyle, as an adult; although much more modest, was mine. Everything in my home was ours because we earned it, through our work. The car I drove, was mine due to my effort. My father gave me nothing. When I left for the Navy, I got on that train to Great Lakes, IL with nothing but a change of underwear and a toothbrush. I had 10 dollars in my pocket. My father had not given that to me. He didn't even get out of bed to say goodbye when I left.

My friend looked rather shocked at my response. I told him that he had asked a direct question, I gave him a direct answer. I smiled.

My father has been gone for 24 years this past May. We never spent time doing anything together because I might enjoy it. He didn't spend time with any of my siblings. to this day, 24 years after his death, I know no one who consistently has anything good to say about the man.

More than 30 years after the conversation in the car, that late night, my lifestyle has remained pretty much the same. We still live in a small home. Our car doesn't have all the bells and whistles available today. But, it's paid for.

What we have is ours! We've worked to earn the things we have. It's not the things that are important.

I did not relate the story about my father to complain or garner sympathy. There is an old saying; "What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger."

My father's neglect and cruelty towards us had an unanticipated result. I learned what not to do as a parent. I spent time with my children and still to today. When my children were growing up, I always spent time with them. I played with them, helped them with homework, went to school functions or Scout meetings. I was involved in their lives.

I am still involved. My oldest daughter calls me regularly and fills me in on what is going on in her family's life. I know still, when she is feeling bad and when she is happy. We all share time together.

None of this happened by accident. There was a lot of give and take over the years. but in the end, we all always knew that we loved each other. We knew this not just by words but, by actions.

So, although we may not have the same level of material things as when I grew up in my father's big house, I believe that my family is richer than my father ever was or could hope to be.

More than 30 years after my friend Larry asked the question, how did I make the lifestyle adjustment? The answer remains the same.

John Lennon was right. "All you need is Love"

The American Family and Family Values

I listen to the politicians with interest. Where I live, we will be electing a new Governor in November. The rhetoric is always the same, wether the election is for Governor, President, Dog Catcher or Sheriff.

They tell us that they are for "Family Values". When I was growing up, a family in middle America was simple to define. A Family had a Mother, Father, 2.5 children and possibly a dog or cat. That was the public line.  The aforementioned formula was the key to a happy family. This, all the experts told us.

Divorce was the worst thing that could happen to a family. Divorce meant that the woman had failed in her duty to maintain a proper and "good" home for her husband and children. That was what the woman's role in civilized society was to be. Women didn't need an education. They just needed to know enough to "Catch a husband."

Let me start by saying life was never as advertised above. I have very clear memories of living in that "typical" family value home that the politicians speak of. My father was a doctor. My mother was a stay at home Mom who took care of the home and the 4 children. (We didn't have a dog until much later).

My parents would throw lavish parties for everyone from professional friends and neighbors to United Nations Diplomats and everyone in between. A party with a guest list in the multiple hundreds was not uncommon.

My Father's perfect American family was on display during these parties. Believe me. We were all dressed in our finest stylish cloths. Suits for the boys and the perfect party dress for my sister. My Mother was dressed like a model from the latest fashion magazine. If it was really a special occasion, my father would even join the conventional and wear a tie. But, of course, he was the master of his domain and was ever so sheik in his shirt and sports coat. As the guests would arrive, children "Kinder" as we were referred to, would line up near the door; so we may be easily seen by the guests. My sister would usually have to curtsy. My older brother and I would bow as one of us took the guest's coats. My younger brother was exempt from any welcoming duties as he was to small.

After the coats were disposed of, Mom would conduct the guests into the living room to find the Grand Master himself. My father.

The evening would progress with us children being seen but not heard. We, of course would eat last (something I never understood. Children should eat first). Eventually, we would be sent off to bed. Like the Von Trapp children from the sound of music, we had to say good night to all of the guests. Fortunately, we were not asked to sing. However, in later years I was required to play my Saxophone for the guests before I was dismissed for the evening.

If my father decided that there had been any misconduct during the evening, after the last guest had departed, discipline would be administered. Read "Mutiny on the Bounty" to get an idea of my father's method of discipline.  He used a belt rather than a whip. I'm not exagerating.

So, you see, to the outside observer, we had the perfect family. Family/American values.

Today, things are a bit more in the open. The family dynamic has changed completely. There are families with 2 and 3 Moms (and no father at all). Families that have several fathers and no mothers. Divorced families are no longer a scandal. Interracial families are common. All these variations of the family unit were more than frowned upon when I was growing up. But, the most important element is common to all of these "variations". The members of these families are happy.

Same sex couples who live together in marriage are happy. If they have children, the children are happy too. They really don't care that their parents are both women or men, as the case may be.

My sister has a woman partner. She lives in a state that is still in the dark ages and will not allow same sex marriage. Hopefully that will change soon. All of you who read my ramblings regularly know that I love my sister with all my heart. Well, that's how I feel about her partner also. They make each other happy. Their children are happy. To me, that is the essence of "Family Values" not the appearance of happiness, real happiness.

I grew up in fear. I was afraid of my own shadow. But to the public, we had the perfect family. It was a great scandal and surprise to most who knew us, when my parents got divorced. Looking back, I'm amazed my mother stuck it out as long as she did. I do understand why.

My sister's children do not live in fear. My children were never afraid of me. But my point is for the "non-tradiional" families.  If someone were to ask me to describe what my idea of  "Family Values" are, I would have to say, A family where every member is happy and living without fear. An environment where children are allowed to express themselves in any creative way they choose. A place where children can grow up, knowing they are loved and will always be loved. A family is a place where no one ever has to be ashamed of who they are.

September 11, 2013

Today promises to be a beautiful day. You might remember that it was a beautiful day 12 years ago. Well, it was beautiful until about 8:19 AM (Eastern time). That is when American Airlines flight 11 was reported as hijacked. The famous attack upon the United States had begun.

We all know what happened that sunny morning in September, 12 years ago today. Our world, the entire world changed forever. I wonder if it will ever be the same again. Somehow, I doubt it.

I chose the picture above, for a reason. Without the billowing smoke from the twin towers, it was a familiar scene to me. I grew up in northern New Jersey. The view across the Hudson River was as familiar to me as one's own neighborhood would be. I remember my mother telling my brother and me not to go into "The City" on warm summer days. We would be home for summer vacation and New York City was just a half hour bus ride away. Of course, many times, we didn't listen to mom.

The interesting thing about those times is, there was a large Muslim population in Manhattan, even back then. No one thought anything special about them. There were no epithets of any kind thrown their way. The Muslim people that I saw seemed like anyone else in the great melting pot of humanity that was then and still is New York City. Many of the men wore "funny" hats and there were indeed a lot of women who were covered from head to toe, including their faces. But, we thought nothing of it. Manhattan was full of "different" people.

I've traveled all over the world and there were many places that I'm sure I would have been considered different. It just didn't matter.

For years, we all had read in the news about "Radical Muslim" groups. As Americans, we didn't think much about them. Even after the failed attack on the World Trade Center, we mostly ignored the threat. I can remember that my brother and I shook our heads in disbelief because one of the conspirators was captured because he went back to the truck rental agency to get his deposit back on the truck he blew up. It seemed like something from a bad movie. Certainly, it wasn't real. It didn't seem so. How wrong we all were.

My oldest child was on Active Duty with the United States Marine Corps at the time of the attack. Her future husband would eventually be deployed to Iraq as a result of the 9/11 attacks.  I give a prayer of thanks daily that they were returned home to us, alive.

Our lives have changed greatly in the last 12 years. Air travel is more difficult than it used to be. The Government has become more intrusive than before.  I remember the famous story of the two recent medical school graduates who were traveling and stopped in a restaurant. The waitress didn't understand the language they were speaking so, she called the police. The ensuing panic cost the two doctors their residency training. They had done nothing wrong.

So, what's the point of all of this? I didn't want to just write a story about 9/11 detailing what happened. We all know what happened. I wanted to talk about how we as a people and a Nation have changed.

We are no longer as trusting. We don't trust strangers and in many cases, we don't trust friends. We certainly don't trust the Government.

I do know one thing for certain. In excess of 4,500 United States Fighting Men and Women will never be returning home to live their lives.

I'm not talking about wounded. Those numbers are even bigger.

I've said this before, I'll repeat it again here.

Each and every member of the United States Uniformed Services signs the "Code of Conduct". Article 1 of that code reads"

  I am an American, fighting in the armed forces which guard my country and our way of life.  I am prepared to give my life in their defense.

To each and every person in uniform, wether you serve in the Army, Air Force, Navy, Marine Corps or Coast Guard we are all with you every day. You are in our thoughts and our hearts.

For all of those who have served and are now called Veteran, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your faithful service and sacrifice.  May you all be able to live in peace for a long and happy lifetime.

Sometimes, I don't believe what I see...I I

I took a nap after lunch. When I got up, I felt sort of rested and settled down to see what was on the Television as I enjoyed an afternoon cup of coffee. It turned out that the coffee was much better than the television. My house is quiet right now because, I turned the TV off.

The proliferation of "Low Class" TV "Talk" shows has gotten to the point that I am almost ill. The stories are always the same. Some young person is accusing another young person of "cheating" on them. Now they want a polygraph examination to prove the other person guilty. Of course, the accused swears that he was the "wronged" one in the relationship and this is all for nothing.

I've been in the same relationship for more than 32 years. I can assure you, if my wife lied to me, I would know it. If I was untruthful to her, she too, would know it. I never needed a Television program to tell if we were having a problem.

The problems these couples are having are so trivial, it defies belief. None of these people have any business being in a relationship with their dog or gold fish. Forget about a serious relationship with another person!

Here's an idea for all of them. Go to school! Make something of yourselves. Making Babies doesn't count!

I have seen 20 year old women on television with 5 children. 5 Children!! The problem is, they have no idea who the father of any of the kids are. The women unfortunately, have no skills because they were trying to take care of their children instead of going to school. If they are taking care of their kids at all. Many of these poor unfortunate women continued in their dangerous behavior and left the raising of the children up to someone else.

I know that I am not taking a popular stance here. I am not being "politically correct". I'm not even being understanding. I don't know what the solution to this problem is. Our society has taken bad behavior, elevated it to an art form and then revered it.

In the old days, celebrities walked the red carpet and went out to fancy restaurants. A picture was seen in the news paper and that was it. Most of the better actors stayed out of that "personal life" spotlight. Sure, there were some who had bad marriages and would fight. Some were even famous for it. But, for the most part, you didn't hear of it in the press.

Now, we have celebrities who are famous for being famous. They have no other claim to fame. The bad behavior of our current crop of movie actors is enough to make you sick. It's all on TV and the public loves it!

Pregnant without the benefit of marriage is becoming the norm. I don't really mind that. What bothers me is pregnant without the benefit of any commitment of any kind. We glorify this and then wonder why our youth grow to become unruly.

There's a national smoke out day every year. Let's publicize a National Turn the smut off day. Instead of watching the garbage on Television, everyone read a book. Who knows, it may catch on.

I love to cook.

I've always loved to cook. When I was little, I was unable or not allowed to participate in many activities with the other kids. I would watch my Mother work in the kitchen, creating all sorts of amazing morsels for us. I learned so much.

On television, I always watched Julia Child or Graham Kerr. I loved watching cooking programs. I am happy to look through magazines for recipes or simply cooking ideas.

The other benefit I get from cooking is relaxation. For me, there is something relaxing about planning a good meal, taking fresh ingredients and creating something yummy for family and friends. I love everything about the whole process.

I taught my children to cook, just as my Mother taught me. My oldest daughter is a very fearless cook. She will try anything and does a good job at it too. My youngest daughter started learning to cook when she was around 5 or 6. We started with how to scramble eggs and now, at 24, she can prepare nearly any meal you would like.

Tonight, we will have Chicken Parmesan. I've made the sauce from scratch and the house smells wonderful. I love how the smells of cooking bring memories right up.

I'll be happy because my son-in-law is bringing my granddaughter over tonight and we are all going to have dinner while the game is on. Football, family and food sounds like a wonderful evening to me.

I have a medical procedure on my vocal cord today so I will be unable to speak for 3 days. Hopefully, the food will speak for me and they will all know that I just love all of my family to pieces.

In the mean time, the house smells just like my mother's home when I was growing up. If I close my eyes, I can picture her, at the stove, humming as she stirs the sauce or cooks the chicken.

This all worked out well today because all this preparation was for my oldest Daughter's family. Yes. She, her husband and my Granddaughter are coming over for dinner and a football game. As I write this, the game is over. Our favorite team lost (sad face) but none of that mattered. What was important was the look on the faces of our guests as they had home made sauce and Dad's Chicken Parmesan. They call it Dad's chicken. I, of course think of my mom.

My little granddaughter devoured her chicken and she was a very good girl and ate her broccoli too. It was so great to have her here, running around the living room. Chattering away. Most of her words are unintelligible, but some how, we communicate. She even climbed up to be by me once or twice. Of course, since her Daddy was right there, she hung on to him most of her couch time. Although I would have been happy to hold her, she prefers her Daddy. As it should be.

The "kids" are wonderful parents. They allow the little one to run around and learn things but, they don't let her cross that thin line into the land of unruly behavior. You can just see the love on their faces as they supervise their daughter. They want more children, they've said. I'm sure I don't blame them for that. For me, I'm happy as they are. Trust me, my granddaughter makes me happy. I was feeling pretty low yesterday. I had had a medical procedure done on my vocal cord and was just feeling wrung out. After spending some time with my family, especially the littlest one I was rejuvenated.

So, we started talking about cooking and wound up talking about family. It's not so much of a stretch. We don't cook to simply nourish our bodies. Eating is what you might call a "Primary Social Activity".

Most people don't eat alone, if it can be avoided. We are social animals. We use food for all sorts of occasions. Births, sickness, deaths, accomplishments like graduations, promotions at work and the like. You never really need an excuse to have people get together and socialize. There's always food.

We have an abundance of food in this country. It comes in all forms. Fresh, prepackaged, frozen. The list goes on.When we socialize, everyone notices the food. But, listen to the comments. The highest praise comes when the food was prepared from scratch, using fresh ingredients.

Many people do not know how to cook the simplest things. For one reason or another, that skill eluded some folks. So, many will envy that person who can make something out of seemingly nothing. But, in the end, it's all for sharing with someone we care about.

So, I say, bring back the "Sunday Dinner". Share the events of your week with family or friends or both. Be social over a good bowl of home made soup. Don't just go to that nasty salad bar at the grocery store. Grab up the ingredients and make it yourself. It will taste better and be better for you. When you share it, you will feed not just your body but your soul also.

Parenting doesn't happen by accident.

I didn't get a chance to write a post yesterday. I spent most of the day with various doctors. Mostly, my doctors are at the Naval Hospital. Since I woke up, I decided to write the post I missed yesterday, now.

When my oldest child was little, I read to her. Actually, I read to her while she was in the womb. I read to my little girl every day. It was a wonderful time of day. Weather it was bed time and she was all tucked into her bed or just a break from the day's routine, the scene was pretty much the same. Little child snuggled up to her Daddy; Daddy reading out loud. My daughter always loved that I would use different voices for each of the characters in the story. Sometimes, she would beg me to read a story that she knew perfectly well, simply because she liked the voices I used. I didn't mind. 25+ years later, I smile as I write this.

Now, my girl has a little girl of her own. My granddaughter is everything I could imagine. Wonderful is   not a descriptive enough word to relate what this little one is in my life. She is full of energy and has a ready smile. She doesn't just brighten the room she is in, she brightens the world.

Her Mother and Father read to her. The routine at night is, the young miss crawls up the stairs as she makes happy noises, zips down the hall and into her room. From the rocking chair, she retrieves the Kindle. She then gets to snuggle with her Momma and Daddy and they read to her. The little one loves this.

During the day, my granddaughter will climb up on the couch, sit next to her Momma and try and read whatever happens to be near by. 

The point to this is simple. My daughter and her husband are being parents! They are actively taking a posative role to stimulate their daughter's mind. Their child is just over a year old and she has all ready taken the first important steps to developing the most important skill she will ever have. Reading.

If you ensure your child can read, you give a gift that will serve a lifetime. When each of my children began to formally learn to read, I was happy. When they could finally read without assistance, I did the happy dance. The first milestone of lifetime survival had been completed. I had one less worry.

I did this for all of my children. Today, they all love to read. My granddaughter will also have that gift. How did this come about? It didn't happen by accident. As parents, we designed our children's life so that they will learn the skills they need for life. Reading, Arithmetic and the ability to speak clearly are indispensable tools for success. The best way for our children to gain these skills is for them to be taught not only in schools, but at home. The process starts long before the child ever crosses the threshold of any school.

For this to happen, parents need to parent. All the electronic gadgets need to be turned off now and then. The television is not a baby sitter. The portable game machine or cell phone is not your child's best friend. You are.

A friend told me that when she gets home from work, her youngest daughter can't wait to have "private" time with Mom to relate some urgent personal issue that only Mom can hear about. I love hearing things like that. Imagine, a young girl who is excited to talk to her mother! This relationship didn't happen by accident. My friend worked hard to foster this relationship with all of her children. She parented her children.

So, if you have a child, sit them down and make them learn the multiplication  tables. Read to them. Encourage them to read. Sit down at the family table at meal time. Make sure the television is off and have a conversation. Exchange ideas. The electronic world does not have to constantly intrude upon your world and interfere with you being a parent to your children.

Unconditional Love

Much has been said on the internet about a mother's reaction to her son's "coming out" on Facebook. Although I felt it was a touching story, well presented when I saw it on Facebook, now it is "in the news" also.

When did something that should be normal become newsworthy? I'm talking about unconditional love. Parents are supposed to have it for their children. Family members are supposed to have it for each other. Maybe I am wrong. As my psychaitrist father would say: "Let's explore this".

I'm a Dad. I have always believed that being a good father was my most important job. After all, I would never get a second chance to raise my children. I always taught my kids that no matter what the issue, they could come to me. Certainly, I would always love them. I will go a step further, being gay is not something I would even consider turning my back on a child for. 

If one of my children announced to me that they were gay, no matter what vehicle they used to make this earth shattering revelation, I can tell you all with the most authority I can muster, I would say: OK. We would then move on. 

Many of you may shake your heads and say that I am being politically correct. I beg to differ. Why would I turn my back on my own child for being who they are and admitting it? It's like saying I won't speak to you any more because you didn't eat your dinner. Please. Are there other problems we can discuss? It's simple folks. A parent should not be a source of problems or anxiety in their child's lives. Parents are supposed to be "safe harbors" for their children. We are not just part of the solution. We are the solution for children. We are always supposed to be there for our children, no matter their age.

My oldest child is in her early 30s, married and she is a Mom. If she had a problem and wanted my help, I am a phone call or text message away. I am not saying that we must solve every problem our adult children have but rather, we are part of the solution, as a minimum. Certainly, we are not here to criticize and make the problem worse.

From my own experience I can tell a story.  I adore my sister. She has always been there for me. My sister is gay. She was "in the closet" for many years. We all knew, of course. We are not stupid after all. But, my sister remained hiden. Several years ago, she finally came out. I was very happy for her. Imagine the weight that was lifted from her shoulders when she was finally able to be truthful about herself to those around her. I asked her, what took so long. She gave me an answer that I don't remember. In essence, she couldn't say why. I always thought it was a matter of trust.

In any relationship, trust is the foundation. It has to be. Weather my sister trusted me or not, I don't know. I'm glad she eventually came out to me. By the way, my love for her has not diminished in the least. Her partner is a wonderful woman whom I am very glad to consider my sister also. They are happy. That's what matters. It's not news worthy. It just is a fact of life.

I have friends who happen to have gay children. Guess what. They love their gay child just as much as their other children. It's not an issue. Of course it isn't. Unconditional Love is exactly that. Unconditional!

When did something normal become news? I just can't picture Walter Cronkite, in bygone days, leading off the national news with: "Today in Ohio, 500 parents hugged their children."

I love my children no matter what.  It's that simple. I doubt that will be on the news.

Regrets

This country of ours has some of the most breath taking scenery in the world. I know. I've been all over the world and seen some amazing places. But, I have seen very little of our country. My bucket list is to be able to travel at will to the wonderful places our country has to offer. Along the way, I'd get to visit friends whom I have never met in person. That's my "Bucket List".

A year ago, my need for a list became a reality. I came face to face with my mortality. I've never told the whole story but, with my anniversary approaching, I thought this would be a good time to share. That's what this blog is for; isn't it? Besides, the events of the last year or two have been on my mind. 

People tell me I am smart. Honestly, I don't think I am anything all that special. Most of my life, I've been afraid. I don't know what I have been afraid of, I just am. I try to overcome that fear now, as an adult through reading. I try to learn as much as I can about anything that catches my eye. It seems to work.

When I was a child, I didn't understand that if I learned, I'd have no reason to be afraid. Knowledge is the ultimate equalizer. Your brain can overcome braun any time. Put simply, I was shy. 

I came by this shyness honestly. I was small for my age. I also had a physical handicap. I didn't really understand what Cerebral Palsy was. I just knew that walking, running and generally playing like the other kids was very hard for me. It also didn't help that I had to wear thick glasses. I just didn't fit in. So, I did what a lot of little boys do, I tagged along with my older brother.

I idolized my big brother. Mickey was everything I was not. Strong, coordinated, confident. He could make friends easily and he did. Although he tortured me on a daily basis, I still tried and tried to fit in with him. This led me to start a habit which stayed with me for more than 40 years and nearly killed me.

I started smoking cigarettes. Now, you all can look at me today and tell me how silly this was. If Mickey didn't want me around, destroying my health wasn't going to change things. I didn't realize that as time went on, my brother would eventually look upon me as a friend. I wanted to be accepted, right away. I was lonesome.

When I was 11, Mickey got into trouble at the local public school. My father decided it was time to send Mickey away to Military School. The school was, well; to me it was amazing. But, it was the place that took my "big brother"away. Mickey went away to school for half a year. While he was gone, I missed him terribly.

He came home for spring break and eventually, summer vacation. I continued to tag along and smoked Marlboro Cigarettes.

I followed my brother to Admiral Farragut Academy the next year. While we were both there, I tagged along, just like at home. I continued to smoke. The difference being, at school I had to hide when I smoked. That's OK. There were a lot of kids who were to young to smoke. We all had a sort of club. (At the time, you had to be 16 and have parental permission to smoke at school.)

Life continued. Mickey left school eventually, joined the Navy for 3 years. Got out. Went to a trade school, got married and divorced. Life.

I joined the Navy. I finally came out of my shell with the help of real friends in the Navy. Married. I'm still married to the same wonderful woman. We have 4 grown children. I continued to smoke. But, I did get one wish.

My brother, Mickey and I would talk most days, at least once. Sometimes, more than once. Mickey told me that I was his best friend. You can only imagine how happy that made me. That is something I had wanted to hear all my life. Now, I had arrived! Not only was I Mickey's friend. I was his best friend. I lit another cigarette.

Unfortunately, as does sometimes happen, life throws curve balls. Mickey developed a very serious drinking problem.  He used to say, it wasn't a problem for him. He was a drunk and only hurting himself so, leave it alone. My brother lived across the country. I was in Virginia and he was in Arizona. He didn't want my help and I was to far away to do anything. His wife wouldn't do anything but drink with him so, as he said: He was only hurting himself. I lit another cigarette.

In the late evening of September 20, 2011, my phone rang. It was my sister-in-law. My brother Mickey had died. The alcohol finally did win. He died in their rented trailer, in a trailer park, not far from Kingmen, Arizona. Alone. I stayed up all night, smoking cigarettes.

Just shy of a year later, life continues. At the beginning of the year, My oldest daughter and her husband came to me. Amie had that little girl look in her eye as she smiled and said "Daddy, I'm going to have a baby!" Tears and hugs all around, we celebrated the joy of this news. I continued to smoke.

My granddaughter was born in August. Happy doesn't even begin to describe how I felt. I love being a Grandfather (Nono).

It's many a sailor's dream to wake up unclothed in a room full of women.  In the second week of September, last year I lived that dream. There was only one problem. I was in the Cardiac Cath Lab at the Naval Hospital.

My doctor is an extremely talented woman as is her staff of Navy Hospital Corpsmen. They were all women. I am thankful to each of them. After being wheeled into the room, prepared and sedated, the doctor came in and inserted a catheter into my groin and up into my heart.. I was all drugged up so I do not have real clear memories of specifics of this. However, I do remember one important part of this evolution.

The doctor looked at me and said; "You need bypass surgery and you have to quit smoking or you are going to die!"

Honestly, it had never been put to me quite that way. Any idea I may have had to continue to smoke, was gone. It was purged from my system. Done.

When I got back into my room, my dear wife was waiting for me. She sure has stuck by me through thick and  thicker. I told her to get rid of all the cigarettes we had at home. She laughed and told me she already had. Trust me, I was not mad. I was scared.

It's been a year, minus a day or two. I do not miss smoking. I do still miss my brother. But, we can't bring those who are gone back. I can't change the past. I started smoking because I wanted to fit in. That didn't really work to well. I had to live most of my life before I realized what my mother told me was true. Be yourself. People will like you just fine for who you are. If you have to "act" for someone to be your friend they are not.

I don't know why I didn't believe my Mom. I guess that's just part of life. I think of all the money I've wasted on  cigarettes. Stupid. Because of that nasty habit, I nearly died. Again, stupid.

For you smokers out there, I didn't write this to give you a lecture. You are all grown. You all make your own decisions. If my story makes a difference, great. If not, that's fine too. I am not qualified to tell anyone how to live their lives.

I don't have many regrets in my life. 1 year later, I have one less to worry about. 

I'd like to thank the Doctors, Nurses, Hospital Corpsmen and other staff at Naval Medical Center, Portsmouth for all they have done for me and all they continue to do. You truly are "First and Finest".