Father/Son Relationships

I'm thinking this isn't a good start.

Personally I think they should put the guy in a commercial dryer, bolt the door shut, and send him for a five minute ride on high heat.

Baby playing in dryer = "cute, but stupid".

Dad turning on dryer full of baby = "Moronicus Maximus".

Maybe he thought he was being playful. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe he was being spiteful. I'm going to keep up with the story because I can't imagine anyone doing such a thoughtless thing.

I know my Dad wouldn't have done such a careless, thoughtless, dangerous thing. Dad didn't join in rough housing too much. Heck, he was 40 when I was born. When he did join in though, Holy Cow!

My first memory of Dad playing with us was right around Christmas, 1963. I was just short of three. I was the last one to wake up. My brothers were laughing about something, so I immediately had to know what was going on. I wandered out from our bedroom and was promptly met, nearly at eye level, by this face:



If you've never met this fine fellow, let me introduce you.

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet "The Great Garloo".

23.5 inches of two "D" cell battery operated fun. Well, at least for Dad at first.

The Great Garloo was a bit of toy engineering genius for its time. It moved forwards, backwards, and could be steered on any firm, flat surface. His arms opened and closed, and were equipped with pads to assist in picking up things. He could also bend at the waist. I was in my late twos and really couldn't appreciate any of that. All I could see, slightly below eye level, was that face followed by Dad giving a "monster yell".

I took off running and the chase was on.

Sailing over the hardwood floors, I ran past the Christmas tree and all the presents. I ran to the kitchen, no good. I ran into the bathroom, trapped. Garloo rolled right past the doorway, freedom! He saw me leave and I was off again. Back to the living room, safety! I hid behind the chair Mom was sitting in. Garloo was coming. His motor was getting louder.

Then it stopped.

Was he gone?

I peeked out from behind the chair.......slowly.

I was eye to eye with him.

Dad let out another "monster yell".

I let out a *gasp*.

HE'S FOUND ME!!!!!!!!!!

I needed help immediately.

Kev to the rescue! He loaded up a rubber tipped dart in his new dart gun (you know, the ones that eventually got banned by idiots worried about children and violence) and took a shot at Garloo. It got Dad on the ass. Dad/Garloo spun around. It was Kev's turn to flee. Bruce, took off with Kev. I took off chasing after Dad. Mom, Mom Mom(her mother), and Granny(her grandmother) were hysterical. All the Walker boys were on the fly. We were all over those hardwood floors sliding in our footie pajamas. I'm not sure who was laughing harder, the ladies or Dad and us guys.

We wore out the first set of batteries that morning. Dad had forgotten to get extras. Garloo ground to a halt. Dad had just enough juice left in the batteries to make Garloo bend over. "Garloo,", Dad announced, "is going to be *sleeping* the rest of the day.". We really didn't mind. We were small children, it was Christmas Day, and like always, we had each other and plenty of toys.

It didn't matter anyway, Garloo had become one of the family.

Some months later he would achieve hero status.

I woke up one night after having a typical childhood nightmare. I ran down the hall to Mom and Dad's room crying. "The monsters" were going to get me. I didn't want to go back to my room.

After I settled down a bit Dad picked me up and carried me back to my room. "Wait right here son, I'll be right back.", Dad told me. I sat there wondering what Dad was going to do. The I heard that all too familiar motor.

Garloo was on the way!

He rolled in smartly and promptly spun around. Dad then gave Garloo his orders.

"Garloo, don't let anybody or anything through this doorway except for me and Mom!"

Garloo promptly took up sentry duty.

Everything was going to be okay, I went back to sleep.

Years later we were cleaning out our parents house following Mom's death. Of the seven people present that Christmas Day only four of us remained, Kevin, Bruce, Mom Mom, and myself. We sat down to eat some lunch. We'd been cleaning out the attic and the few remaining toys Mom hadn't given away over the years. Garloo was long gone, having been given to a charity for resale. We got to talking about our favorites.

The Great Garloo was the hands down winner of "Best Toy We Ever Had". We declared Dad a genius for his foresight in getting it for us. That's when Mom Mom broke the news.

"You're Father got that for himself.", she said with a big laugh.

Hey, who could blame him? He got it just like we did. It was big, ugly, a bit noisy, and fun. I'm sure he knew from the moment he saw it that he was going to chase us around with it. It appealed to his inner child, the one that lived through the Great Depression. His parents didn't lose everything like a lot of others did, but it was very much a no frills lifestyle. Dad was just playing a bit of catch up.

Running and playing is one of the true joys of childhood. Sliding across hardwood floors at full speed is a lifetime thrill. Having your Dad in on the game makes it even more special.

That, my friends, is what playful is in a Father/Son relationship.

Turning the dryer on while your son is inside isn't.

I hope the judge will help that man see that in the harshest way possible.

Air Traffic Mike

Seeing Eye Dog

I've never seen a seeing eye dog.

Then again, neither have their owners.

If I ever have to get one, this is the one I want.

Air Traffic Mike

Okay, Exactly Why?

I took this picture last May on Union Avenue.

I'm not sure how a live goat fits into the concept of "General Contracting".

However, if you ever need some trash eaten while having a new room added to your house, I guess these are your guys.

Then again, it could have been *prom night* out in Tipton County.

Hard to say.

Air Traffic Mike

Got Stress? Here's Something To Help

You've just gotta visit this site.

Gotta picture you like of a loved one?

How about the people you despise?

Wanna tell coworkers what you really think?

Somebody really, REALLY pissing you off?

Make a poster. I made this one. You can too.

You'll be glad you did.

Air Traffic Mike

Where Do You Go To Relax?

I got that question yesterday while out and about. The topic was the daily stresses in life and how do we handle it. The conversation eventually wound its way to vacation spots.

Now I've been very lucky in life. I've been to some really cool places. The vineyards of Northern California and the Lake Tahoe area are fantastic. Toronto, ON is the closest thing to a European city we have here on our side of the globe. Upstate New York and Niagra Falls is a great way to beat the Summer heat. I'm a road tripper at heart and have indulged myself as often as possible. Hell, I even drove nonstop from Memphis to Pennsville, New Jersey on a two week hiatus from work.

Many of those places I'd love to return to some day, but my number one spot? The one I'll take any time? Grand Isle, Louisiana.

Grand Isle has everything I need to make me happy. It has done so many times since I first went there the Summer of 1985. Grand Isle is Louisiana's only occupied barrier island. It is just fifty miles south of New Orleans, but takes about two hours by car.

Is it a big fancy resort sort of place? Nope.

Does it have clear blue, warm Gulf water? You kidding me? It's warm but you can't see your feet in three feet of water.

Any wave riders, amusement parks, or big time night life? Not a chance.

So Mike, what do you do there?

I read, relax on the beach, star watch at night, but mostly I fish. I don't even need a boat to do the fishing. I like to stay at the Bridgeside Cabins and Marina. Its located on the west end of the island, has a private beach, and is perfecty sited when it comes to fishing.

Here's a typical day for me when vacationing there. I get up early every morning, bait a couple of borrowed crab pots, and swim them out to a point east of a jetty on the west end of the property. There are plenty of nice blue claw crabs to be had. I walk back up to my efficiency and get my fishing pole, tackle box, and don my surf shoes. Neoprene surf shoes are the only way to go in my book. One good crab pinch is about all you'll ever need to seee their value. I did the "Crab Dance" there in 1986. It wasn't pretty.

Anyway, surf shoes donned I walk back to the beach. Flounder love structures and the jetty accomodates them beautifully. The great thing is that you really don't need any fancy tackle. All you need is a treble hook or two, a split shot for casting weight, and some bait shrimp. I usually only take one or two flounder a day. I'm not there to fill up my freezer, I want fresh fish for lunch. Having caught my lunch, I return to the efficiency. It has a small kitchen, refrigerator, and utensils in addition to having a separate room with two queen size beds. Filet the fish, and my morning chores are complete.

Back to the beach, book and chair in hand. I've completed entire books just sitting surf side in a day. I get lost in the sounds. Waves, seagulls, pelicans, boats motoring out of the Caminada Pass taking hopeful charters out for drum, speckled trout, wahoo, tuna, or other big game fish.

Lunch time means it is time to get one or both of the crab pots out. Although it isn't the recommended way, I just swim out, grab the float, and drag it back in. Sure, a boat would be better, but I just don't see the need. I can honestly say this, there is NOTHING better than seafood that was just swimming a few hours ago. Fried, baked, broiled flounder, sometimes stuffed with fresh crab meat, is the lunch menu of the week. I usually buy fresh vegetables from a roadside stand on the way down to the island so a salad or baked potato rounds it out. It is a simple meal, but the simplicity is its inherent beauty. Lunch over, its back to the beach.

Because I like to go there in May or September the lack of screaming children is noticable. They're all still in school. Don't get me wrong, I love children and have many fond memories of my brothers and I at the Jersey shore, but the solitude is marvelous.

Late afternoon means its time for a nap. Yeah, really, a nap. I purposely leave the television off and don't get a copy of the paper. I really don't care to know what I might be missing. Besides, Grand Isle has a nightlife like few other places. I'm going to need some rest.

Wake up. Time for dinner. Steamed crabs it is. I've mastered many versions of the one pot dinner and steamed crabs is one of my favorites. New red potatoes and fresh corn rounds out a nice crab cracking dinner.

Dinner cleaned up, time for a walk down the beach. Sunset over the Caminada Pass is one of my favorite views. I don't say my prayers before I go to bed at night down there, I say them at sunset. How can I not be thankful for the day I just had? Sunset mission accomplished, its time to get out into the Grand Isle nightlife I so enjoy.

That nightlife would be lantern fishing off the old bridge for speckled trout and red drum. Again, no fancy equipment needed. Just a Coleman gas lantern, a sparkle beetle/jig combo, the requisite bait shrimp, and a falling tide. You've never seen fishing like a falling tide fom the Caminada Bay. Thousands of fish around the bridge, shrimp shooting through the water, porpoise feeding on fish, people landing fish. I stood in awe the first time I saw it.

Now when I say landing fish, I mean REALLY landing them. Specks and reds have soft mouths. If you try to reel them in all the way up to the brigde, their mouths will tear and you'll lose the fish. Therefore the folks there turned to the old ways. You get the fish near the surface close to the bridge and give it a good heave up. I've seen many a person take a fish on the head, but its part of the game. Usually we fan out a bit so as to accomodate mostly safe landings, but sometimes that's not an option.

The fish feeding on the falling tide can't, and doesn't last forever. That's okay with me because once again, I'm not there to fill my freezer. Some nice fresh redfish for blackening and speckled trout for frying is all I'm after. Back to the eficiency, put up the tackle, and clean and package the fish. Then I get to go star gaze. There is little to no light polution on the beach. What seems to be a far away city out at sea are the numerous oil rigs lights. The sky seems 100 times deeper than in Memphis. It is a wonderous and relaxing time. I give it at least an hour every night. Then its back to bed so I can repeat it the next day.

A friend of mine once called it *boring*. He had a high stress finance job and worked 60-70 hours a week. He even worked on his vacation time spending hours yelling at employees. His massive heart attack took care of that permanently.

Bet he wished he could have gone fishing one more time.

It's The Bomb.....

If I hadn't been working in the tower when this went down, I'd have had to call "Bullshit" on the story.

I'm sure the Wright Brothers would appreciate the irony.

Alas, it really did happen Tuesday afternoon.

Monkey See.............

I coined a phrase many years ago:

"THAT'S WHY THE PHONE CALL TO
1-800-BAD-IDEA
IS FREE!!!!!"

I suppose most people who read about the chimpanzee attacking a woman were as horrified as I was. At least I would hope so. My thoughts and prayers go out to the victim and her family. I won't comment further on her injuries, they speak for themselves.

I applaud the owner for attempting to rescue her friend/neighbor in her time of need. She had to know how strong the chimp really was. She risked her own life to save her friend. That's commendable.

However, that's where my compassion for her ends. Had this been handled differently, the nice lady next door wouldn't have been in harm's way.

Okay, so the owners raised the chimp to be able to live in a domestic setting. "Travis", as is the wont of chimps and their simian cousins, displayed very human like behavior. He obviously had the ability to learn human type behaviors. Monkey see, monkey do right? He learned to brush his teeth with a Water Pic, pee and poo in the toilet, watered plants, surfed the Internet (note: Please tell me there aren't chimp porn sites out there. If there are, I just really would rather not know), and operated/watched television. Travis, it turns out, was quite the epicure. He dined on lobster, steak, and even had the occasional glass of wine from a stemware glass.

A stylish ascot, a dinner jacket, and long cigarette holder seem to be the only things missing from this "Chimp About Town". I think you can agree with me when I say he seemed to be a rather urbane chap.

He had a professional career. Movies, television, and print ads.

Wow. A taste for fine dining, wine, manners, and a resume. Now that was one highly polished banana masher. I'm surprised he stayed single.

Okaaaaaaay, don't even go speculating about his sexual preferences. He's dead now, it would be unseemly.

However, just like in *E's True Hollywood Stories*, it wasn't all a bed of roses for Travis. It seems that the poor fellow suffered from Lyme Disease. That's sad, because it is a devastating disease if left untreated or caught late.

Regardless it seems that Travis was being treated for it, and what the hey, why not? There are medicines to cure/control it. I'm pretty sure any trained veterinarian who deals with chimps could find a treatment protocol the animal could safely use. Besides animal medicines differ from people medicines in many cases. A regular physician wouldn't suffice, and wouldn't/couldn't treat Travis anyway. Travis, after all, was still an ANIMAL!!!!!

*shouts loudly at Travis' owner*

"HE'S AN ANIMAL, STUPID!!!!!!!"

No matter what their training is, when an animal is sick or injured, it reverts to its animal instincts. Such was the case here.

He was acting in an odd manner. He was described as being "rambunctious" that morning. I'm not quite sure what she meant by rambunctious, *insert Viagra joke here*, but it obviously wasn't a good thing. Oh and this wasn't the first time Travis had acted up. Earlier there had been possible warning signs that all was not well. Like this for example:

Conklin said this isn't the first interaction his officers have had with Travis. The chimp, who was well known and liked in the community, escaped in 2003 and "wreaked havoc" on the streets of Stamford for a couple of hours, Conklin said."

It could have been an isolated and unrelated incident. It could just as easily have been a warning sign, too.

Okay, so now cut to Feb. 2009. Let's say you're the owner. Travis is acting odd. He's diseased. He refuses to acknowledge you or any of your commands. He's obviously distressed and you need some form of assistance with him. Who do you call? You grab your phone book. There are to so many options to choose from, let's see..............:

- You can call an animal vet and have him transported to a safe place for observation, tests, and possible treatment.

- You can keep him caged and watch him for a day or two to see if he snaps out of it.

- You can go to your medicine cabinet, grab some Xanax and play "Doctor"

Let's dial 1-800-BAD-IDEA and see what course she should take.

*ring, ring*
*ring, ring*
*ring, ring*

"Hello?"

The operator says "GO WITH OPTION THREEEEEE BAYBEEEEEEEEE!!!!". It seems in spite of your lack of medical training, lack of pharmacuetical training, and lack of said licenses to practice either, YOU KNOW THE LITTLE GUY!!!!!! HE'S JUST A LITTLE STRESSED!!!!!! IT'S JUST A *PHASE*!!!! GIVE HIM A TEA AND XANAX TODDY AND LOOSEN HIM UP!!!!!!

Okay, the Xanax makes Travis edgy. He's worse than before. It should have calmed him down. It does for most humans, right? Not for our boy Travis. He's gone the other way. For him its "Less Pimpin', More Chimpin'". He's taken to a tree and won't respond to her commands and come down. Something needs to be done.

What should you do? You could:

- Call a trained animal veterinary professional and tell him to hurry.

- Call 9-1-1 and tell them my beloved pet is acting strange and it is beyond my means to deal with.

- Call the nice lady next door for another opinion.

Let's call 1-800-BAD-IDEA and see what they say........

*ring, ring*
*ring, ring*
*ring, ring*

"Hello?"

The operator says, "CALL THE NICE LADY NEXT DOOR!!!!! SHE'S SEEN TRAVIS BEFORE AND HE LOVES HER!!!!!!!! SURELY A "MAN ABOUT TOWN" IN A LOVELY FUR COAT COULD HARDLY TURN DOWN THE FEMININE WILES OF TWO LADIES!!!!!!!

You see where I'm going with this. It could have been avoided. Any one small change to any one of the many events leading up to the mauling could have changed the outcome completely.

Who knows what happened to cause this? Maybe she was afraid that she'd lose him after what happened in 2003. Maybe she thought she knew best because she had raised him. Maybe this had happened before and the two ladies were able to get Travis under control. There are a bunch of maybes out there. I'm sure the investigators will find out soon enough why this panned out the way it did. Travis is dead and the neighbor is incapacitated. The only story we have is Travis' owner. I hope she seeks good counsel.

I coined "1-800-BAD-IDEA" after I read an NTSB accident report on this accident in 1983. 23 people died that day. It should have never happened. The crew used poor judgement. They were playing with fire, literally. The aircraft passed over a number of airports while trying to solve a problem best solved on the ground.

They overestimated their ability to handle a situation best left to trained professionals.

It happens all too many times. Seems like that's what happened yesterday. Sadly, it will happen again.

"Hello, 1-800-BAD-IDEA, I need some advice.....

Please, don't make that call. Call an expert.

Air Traffic Mike

Cheney's Pissed Off. Here's A Snack For The Show!

I found this interesting reading.

I guess that's what it looks like when a bully works for a spoiled rich kid.

Cheney showed all his grace and class by this well thought out response to Senator Leahy.

What a true Statesman.

Here's a flattering picture and article.

Is it me, or does it look like the old boy just stepped barefoot on a turd? This is the face of a very angry man who possibly needs an intervention or a heavily loaded tranquilizer dart.

Dogs that suddenly turn on their owners exhibit similar facial expressions.

So was anyone REALLY surprised when Cheney started pressing for one more political favor? How many back room deals did he get done before he left Office?

Will he turn on his former running mate and superior? Of course he will. The guy has all the moral clarity of a cat in heat.

I'll be ready for it too. I'll make a big bowl of Air Traffic Mike's Jalapeno Garlic Bacon Popcorn and have plenty of cold beverages to wash it down while I watch.

Air Traffic Mike's JapGarBac Popcorn

You'll need the following:

- 10 quart Dutch oven and lid
- peanut oil
- 1/4 pound thick bacon, chopped
- 8 toes garlic, cracked flat
- 1/3 jar pickled jalapeno pepper slices, patted dry on paper towel
- 2 ounces grated parmesean cheese
- Tony Cachere's seasoned salt to taste

Take a 10 quart Dutch oven preheat to medium low. Brown the chopped bacon to about halfway done and drain. Leave a bit of the bacon fat behind in the pot for added flavor. Bring the pot back up to medium low. Cover the bottom of the pot with 1/8 to one quarter inch of peanut oil. Add garlic and sautee for 30 seconds. Add jalapeno slices and stand back a bit. The vinegar will start to cook off releasing a cloud of pepper gas. Sautee for 30 more seconds. Add your popping corn. I don't measure here, I just add enough popping corn to just cover the oil/ingredients. Add chopped bacon. Stir mixture, raise heat to medium, and cover. Upon completion of the popping, pour the corn into a paper sack. The sack will abate any excess oil. Sprinkle parmesean cheese over corn, season with the Tony C's. Fold bag top and shake vigorously. Pour into large serving bowl. Enjoy with lots of cold bevs. You're going to need them.

For those who have opted out of the carnivorous lifestyle you can simply omit the bacon. I make it that way from time to time and it is just as good.

In the meantime, keep your ear to the ground. I think Mount St. Cheney is fixin' to blow.

Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.

Air Traffic Mike

Blogs

A friend asked me the other day if I read the blogs of others.

Heck, that's how I got started here.

I'm a big fan of discussion, and enjoy looking at the world around me through the eyes of others. Some I read are profession related. They contain information on the job, topical issues on the current relationship between the FAA and its controller workforce, and sometimes they just provide a bit of humor.

The four listed below are the ones I read/check on routinely.

I read Paul Ryburn's Blog for a variety of reasons. Paul usually has the inside info as to what's happening in my neighborhood. He has some really cool links to some great sites. I urge you to check them out. He occasionally uses his pulpit to bust our professional panhandlers. He also offers up links to places where you can send money to make a difference for the truly needy instead of the truly greedy. I dont care where you are, THAT'S good community service. In that spirit, I urge you to buy Paul a well desrved beer.

I think I'll do that myself today. Paul's a witty and fun guy to be around. Good, solid, intelligent conversation is hard to come by some days. That's not the case when Paulie's around.

Another one I like is "Nothing To See Here". Otto doesn't post too much, but what he does is always interesting. He has a fascination for all things bacon, and he's the go to guy for computer issues. Like Paulie, Otto is another truly intelligent guy, has a keen sense of humor, and he too will be happy for you to buy him a beer. Again, and I'm not just here pimping my friends, I urge you to do so. He's been sick of late, a nice draft will go well with strep throat. None of that annoying solid food.

I read Harmony's blog for her insights on life, and Memphis. Harmony hasn't posted much lately, she's been dealing with a bunch of shit in her world. Hopefully, she'll be back soon. She's absolutely charming and like the two guys above, has a keen sense of humor.

One that I check at least three times a day is "Mandyland". Mandy, "The Liquor Fairy", is a college friend of Otto's. I found her blog while reading Otto's blog. What I found was a lady who isn't afraid to tell you what she thinks, isn't afraid to rant, posts really cool pictures, and puts up links to beer festivals. Gotta love a girl who loves (and really knows) her beers. I got to meet her last year while she was in town for a friend's party. It is easy to see why Otto values her friendship so highly. Unlike Otto and Harmony, she posts quite often. Sometimes it is something important to her, other times a simple picture. Either way I find it entertaining and find it difficult not to chime in. Too bad we don't have more like her posting out there.

Okay, speaking of blogging, I'm done for the day. It is my only day off and I'm really getting "cabin fever".

All y'all have a good day.

Air Traffic Mike

Trivia

Finally, NTN Trivia has returned to Downtown.

I've been a fan of this series ever since I played it back in the early 1990's on a trip home. The only way I can descibe NTN trivia is it is the Pop quiz" we all look forward to.

I had flown back to South Jersey to take care of Mom's estate. It wasn't large, but it was needlessly complicated. She and her second husband (don't even get me started on the rotten son of a bitch) had purchased a small country store. It was his job to run the books, pay the taxes, and keep the financial records straight. He did none of the above. I had to go to court just to obtain the records.

It was an ugly trip home to say the least.

My best fiend and I took a ride to see my maternal grandparents and have dinner with them.

My grandfather mentioned that Freddy's Bar had some new trivia game. He said all of his buddies were playing it and that we should stop and check it out.

So we did.

Freddy's Bar had been there since Prohibition had been repealed. It was "an old guy's" bar. That day was no exception. Pat and I ordered a pitcher of Rolling Rock and watched the proceedings. Every one of the old boys had their eyes fixed on the TV screen. They had these rather largish black and grey boxes. Being old Italian guys, they were automatically suspicious of the guy next to them. They took great care to cover up their answers while trying to sneak a peek at somebody else's.

Now that alone was entertaining.

What really made it fun was when the answers were revealed. True to form, the old Italian guys started arguing with the guys that got it right, the bartender, and the TV.

Pat and I got a couple game boards. I was hooked.

It arrived here in Memphis shortly after that at a place called "Satellite Feed". It was a cavernous sports bar in East Memphis. I'd go there at least once a week to get my fix. They closed about a year later and with no other places in sight, I gave it up.

A few years later, I'm divorced and living full time Downtown. I go across the street to a place called Sleep Out Louies. I had been there many times before but that day was different. They had new TV's up. I saw the familiar trivia signs. People were gathered around the bar.

Game on!

NTN became a staple of the Downtown gang. Trivia over Sunday brunch? You bet. Poker late at night? Oh Hell yeah.

Unfortunately, the man who owned Sleep Out Louies had a better idea for the place. He removed the NTN games, gutted the place, and opened up an over priced, under visited steak house. A few of us have stopped in for a cursory drink, but none of us have, or will step inside for dinner.

Our money is better spent elsewhere.

Like at Calhoun's down on G.E. Patterson.

I stopped in there last Friday. Only Frank and I were there representing the old Louies crowd, but we represented well. We took the top two spots on one of the hour long games.

Lately I've been in a reflective mood. Today I'm not. I'm looking forward to working day shifts starting tomorrow so I can play some more NTN.

Note: Outside possibility of ATM making it to Trivia Night at the Saucer. Look for me around 7:15.

Happy Birthday To Those Born On February 12th!

Had Mr. Lincoln survived he'd turn 200 years old this Thursday.

Wow, now THAT would have been a run!

Hey now, no jumping me just because I'm having a bit of fun with Mr. Lincoln and his birthday. Few Presidents can stand being compared to "Honest Abe". They just don't measure up. President Washington can, no doubt. Others such as Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman, and Dwight David Eisenhower, and John Fitzgerald Kennedy were above average leaders in times of crisis. Guys like William Henry Harrison and Millard Fillmore, not so much.

I sort of miss the old days when we celebrated Lincoln's and Washington's birthdays separately in February. Having said that, in the spirit of fairness, having just one day to celebrate all the Presidents isn't such a bad idea. I might not like "Outcome Based Leadership", but these men took on responsibilities that few had/have the balls to take on.

While others before him fought to save America from outside forces, President Lincoln fought to save America from America.

Many other famous Americans were born on February 12. In my opinion they sort of get the shaft. They get ignored worse than Jesus' siblings. I'm not putting down Jesus. I'm not in a position to even if I wanted to. I'm just pointing out that there are many who dwell in the shadow of greatness through no fault of their own.

People Born On February 12

1809: Charles Darwin, English Naturalist
1893: Omar Bradley, Five Star American General
1904: Ted Mack, American TV host
1908: Jacques Herbrand, French mathematician
1914: Tex Beneke, American musician and band leader.
1915: Lorne Green, Canadian born actor.
1918: Julian Schwinger, American physicist and Nobel laureate.
1919: Forrest Tucker, American actor.
1921:
1926: Joe Garagiola, American baseball player and broadcaster.
1934: Bill Russell, American basketball player
1939: Ray Manzarek, Keyboardist "The Doors".

The complete list would be quite substansial, but you get my drift. Many have made contributions to society, but none will get a Federal holiday named for them.

You'll notice I left the year 1921 blank.

That's where this story begins.

He was the first born to a young couple from Delaware. As was the case in many families then and now, he was named for his Father. By all accounts he was a happy go lucky kid. He had boyhood chums, played childhood games, went to school, and was the typical "big brother" to those who would come behind him as the young family grew.

Times were good in the "Roaring Twenties" and the future seemed bright for this blond haired, blue eyed, American boy.

However, as we all know with the current economy, things can change quickly, and for the worse. In this case, the Great Depression came along and changed America forever, this young lad included.

At age 8 his carefree childhood would soon be gone along with many other's. The family managed to stay together. Many families didn't have that option. Dinners weren't fancy, but they had food. They lived a bare bones existence, but they lived. It was a rough go of it. The events of the late 1920's through the early 1930's would change a generation of children.

In hindsight, it was probably a godsend.

Slowly things got better. Amereica went back to work. Families were reunited. Even though the events in Europe were a bit ominous, those events were far, far away from the American shores.

In 1939, the World's Fair was held in the Queens section of New York City. America was on the mend and wanted to show her citizens, and the world, that it had survived and was set to prosper. In celebration of his 18th birthday the young man's family went to New York to take in the Fair. It was a marvelous time. So much to see. Television was in its infancy, but the new medium was on display for all to stand in awe of. The automobile manufacturers were showing off the cars of the future. "Streamlining" was all the rage from airplanes, to trains, to buildings, to household appliances. Technology and science was going forward and going fast.

The young man, a chemist by schooling, embraced science and went to work for the du Pont company in 1940. A career was born.

Like everybody else in the world he started at the bottom. His specialty was organic chemistry. The du Pont company, founded on the manufacture of gun powder, had by the 1900's become a full blown manufacturer of all things chemical. Chemically made fabrics like Nylon, dyes for fabrics, refrigerants such as Freon, paints for automobiles, priming paints for metals, antiknock compounds for gasoline poured out of their various plants.

The young man went to work at du Pont's Chambers Works. He was assigned to the dyes line. His future seemed bright.

Then, just like before, reality set in. The war was on in Europe. While many hoped America could somehow stay out of this second conflict in Europe, the reality was we were already waist deep in it. There were many young men who realized that they would, at some point, probably have to go serve. The young chemist was among them.

On December 7, 1941 their worst fears would be realized. The children of the Great Depression, toughened up by their childhood of hardships, would be called upon to save the world.

In early 1942 the young chemist, now 21 years old, went down to the Army recruiter and signed up. The Army was creating a new sort of soldier, one that would be deployed by parachute. "Would you be interested, young man?". Of course he would.

He went through Army basic training and then through paratrooper training. He earned his "Jump Wings" and with them, a ticket to Europe. He and his fellow soldiers trained constantly. In a war of critical missions, this one loomed as one of the most critical. When the time came they went into battle. He, like so many others, was injured badly. The severe injuries, both physical and mental would remain with him the rest of his life.

It took quite a while to heal the physical wounds. It took a great deal of time, but by war's end most of his physical health would return. The fractured back he suffered would keep him in various levels of pain until his life's end.

Every man who served in the Armed Forces was welcomed back into the du Pont family. He returned to his job and to a new civilian life. Gone were the days of the happy, go lucky child. He had lost family, friends, and fellow soldiers he trained with. So many good people, so many memories, too much pain some days. He avoided most of his pain by throwing himself into work. Long hours at the plant became one of his coping tools. Alcohol would become the other. He would come home on his last work day, go to his room and pace. He'd drink some whiskey and pace some more. Eventually he'd go to sleep. That's when the war would break out all over again.

His family soon found out that you could never wake him by shaking his shoulder. He would grab you by the throat thinking he was being attacked. Sudden loud noises would forever startle him. The initial symptoms would subside over time, but not nearly enough.

Still, life had to go on, and by the 1950's he'd worked his way up in the company. He was an astute observer and becoming a better and better chemist. He could look at a complex dye process and size it up like most of us size up a simple crossword puzzle. The du Pont company had changed from organic based dyes to petrochemical based dyes. It was the opinion of many that benzene based dyes would have superior adhesion qualities to their new fabrics. The problem was, benzene was highly toxic, highly flammable, costly due to evaporation issues, and hard to dispose of safely.

The young chemist, thinking back to the days where he studied dyes the prewar Germans made using the organic discipline, thought maybe they were wrong. Maybe if the process was changed using high pressure steam, a suitable catalyst, and a few little tweeks here and there, the organic process might work better. He laid out his ideas to a senior chemist working in the Jackson Lab. They'd have to run some tests. The young man's hunches would turn out to be right on the mark. His days out in the field were over. He was assigned to the Jackson Lab.

Now this isn't to say he didn't have a social life. He met a young lady in 1957 some 16 years younger. They fell in love and got married. Like every other young couple they started to have children.

By the time he and the du Pont chemical company submitted his paperwork to the United States Patent Office, he had become the proud father of two young men with number three well on the way.

The patent process would take more than a year, but in June 1962 it was official. The young chemist was absolutey right. The dye lines moved to the new, safer, more cost effective, organic process.

Life would go on from there. The young family would move from Maryland to New Jersey so his parents could have some peace from the now four grandsons running around upstairs. Besides the children would have a better school system and the chemist could be closer to work.

Through triumph, tumult, and tragedy the 1960's and 1970's would come and go.

He would never be perfect, but he loved his family with all his heart.

Unfortunately it would all end much too soon.

On Sunday February 4, 1980 he fell asleep, fought World War II one last time, and passed away. He was eight days short of his 59th birthday.

Had he survived, he would have been 88 this Thursday.

Two called him "Son". Four called him "Brother". To thousands he was a "GI". To one, he was "Husband". To many of his coworkers he was "Dick", or "Dixie". In 1962 the USPTO called him "U.S. Patent 3,040,063".

I just always called him "Dad".


Happy Birthday, Dad. Thank you for everything.

Love,

Mike

Super Bowl Sunday

Big friggin', hairy deal. My beloved Eagles are out so it is off to work I go. One day closer to the door.

In years past I would try my damnedest to get off work for the game. At some point, it stopped being a game a became a sideshow for advertisers. That's not to say the ads aren't funny. Let's face it we ALL liked the "Trunk Monkey". That chimp should have won an award for his performances that year.

I am a HUGE fan of "chimp theatre".

I find it interesting that the advertisers are shying away from this year's game. Sure, the economy blows right now, companies are laying off in numbers not seen in decades, but still you have to get your word out there. The Super Bowl is still being watched by millions of people around the world. I'm sorry that this year's game isn't a Madison Avenue marquee match up. Get over it.

I applaud the Chicago/St. Louis/Arizona Cardinals. They finally stayed in one spot long enough to put together a legitimate football team. Funny thing is that this should be a huge game. These are two of the oldest franchises in NFL history. The Steelers date back to 1933, the Cardinals to the late 1800's. The NFL should be hyping the crap out of it. What did they do instead? Hung up a shingle in Tampa, Florida that reads SUPER BOWL TODAY!!!!!! TELL A FRIEND!!!!!! Sheesh, thanks for the big effort Mr. NFL boss guy.

An interesting side story is Kurt Warner. I have a lot of respect for the guy. Can't make the NFL early in his career, he gets cut by the Green Bay Packers and goes to the now defunct Arena Football League. Leads his team, the Iowa Barnstormers, to the Arena Bowl two years in a row. The St. Louis Rams pick him up and immediately deposit him in Amsterdam to play on the now defunct NFL team there. Finally returning to America he backs up Trent Green on the Rams. Green goes down, Warner gets his chance. He becomes a key part of what was nicknamed "The Greatest Show on Turf". They go on to win a Super Bowl. Warner set the current Super Bowl record for passing yards, wins the regular season and Super Bowl MVP awards. All good things must come to an end. He has a few off seasons due to injuries. The Rams show their unwavering gratitude by releasing him. NFL teams have all the loyalty of a cat in heat. He signs and spends a couple lack luster years playing for the Giants. Gets cut again. Signs a deal with Arizona. Gets the starting gig. A couple seasons later his heir apparent arrives, Matt Leinart. He accepts the benching gracefully after some sub par games. Leinart shows that for all his hype he is in no way ready to assume the leadership role. Warner takes back his job and leads the Cardinals to their first post season since 1975. They didn't make the Bowl, but they went further than most people, including die hard Cardinals fans, thought possible. This year he's brought them to the show. Look back at his history. Was there any doubt he could do it?

With his track record I predict the NFL will be out of business a few years hence.

Oh yeah, if the Cardinals win tonight, he'll be the first starting quarterback in Super Bowl history to win the championship with two different teams. Funny, no one's really talking about that either. I'd like to see him do it.

In the meantime I'll be talking to airplanes. Like every other sort of championship, the pilots will be asking for score updates for themselves and their passengers. We'll oblige as best we can. Televisions and radios are prohibited in the TRACON and Tower.

I'll review the commercials I missed by watching them on the Internet tomorrow. I doubt they'll be as numerous in years past. As of two days ago there was still some time available.

Next time maybe they can field two teams of chimps. Low scoring affair, no doubt, but 22 chimps playing football has GOT to be hilarious.

Maybe someone will invent the "TRACON Monkey". Maybe they already have. If they have, he can have my spot beginning 1 March.

Until then, its me, my coworkers, our collective wits, and our headsets.

Remember, you could have used this time to masturbate.

Air Traffic Mike