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.