Another month down.
Huh.
It seems just like yesterday that I set out on this six month sojourn. The warming breezes of Spring were just beginning to yield to the hazy, hot days of Summer. The Memphis Championship BBQ Contest was still the next big thing on the Downtown gang's radar screen.
It wasn't for me. My road led elsewhere. At that time I thought I knew exactly where it would take me.
A summary.
I set off, headed eastbound on I-40. Nashville came and went in a blur. Soon I was sailing over the Cumberland Plateau. The flowering trees dotting by the millions the darkness of the woods. Knoxville was in my rear view mirror in the next blink it seemed. A night in Bristol. Rest and some well earned beers.
I-81, I-64, Virginia Beach. Five weeks of tending to my brother. For him, rest and healing. For me, five weeks of making up for lost time since we parted company in 1977 when he joined the Navy.
50th birthday celebration for the older bro, health returning if only fleetingly, cruising down the highway for Nags Head and the beach. I'll be home in less than a week, mission accomplished.
Phone call from best friend. Trees down, damage beyond description. Help!
No Memphis for me. Something even better. Five weeks with my best friend and his family. Big trees broken. Barn totalled. Chainsaws running six days a week. Heavy lifting, brush hauling, asleep by 7:00 pm. Fishing, crabbing, boating somehow squeezed in after working and on the one day off. Primary work completed, plans made to finish job in Fall.
Finally time to go home. Hazy, hot days in full swing. A cooling stop in Asheville, NC. The dark, foreboding Smoky Mountains at dusk. Cold beer, live Irish music. A bartender named Susie I'd met on a previous trip the year before. Closing time! Let's go! Wine by the pool. Skinny dipping at 3 am. Obliged!
A "See you next time." that will never come.
*wink*
Why is it called a "one night stand" when most of it happens laying down or on your knees?
I-40 westbound. The Summer heat baking the Interstate turning roadkill into jerky.
Home. Three weeks. Friends, fun, rest. Phone call.
"Bruce has another bacterial infection.".
Back to the East Coast. Late nights of worry. Pacing, thinking, praying, wondering. Long days of healing. He responds well to treatment. Time to finish work up in New Jersey.
Barn starts coming down. Maintenance work for two weeks. The hazy, humid days of Summer get pushed aside by the brusque winds and rains of Fall. Soybeans, green yesterday, gold the next. Wood, lots and lots of wood to be split. A Phillies game and a 16th birthday. Two new puppies. Wood to be split. Soybeans brown and harvested. Some knee maintenance. More wood to be split. Healing.
Not much more wood to be split.
Whew!!!!!
Today I'll finish up the remaining black walnut here and get as much of the cherry next door as I can. Tomorrow, God and weather willing, I hope to get the rest of it finished up.
The good doctor has a follow up appointment early this week coming up.
Doc's gonna need a good wheelman again.
As always, it's my pleasure.
The nice thing about entering into the home stretch is that no matter how I get there, I always take time to enjoy it. On my last week of work I took the time to savor every last minute of it. I knew that I'd never do it again.
This week I find myself doing the same. The main reasons for this trip are circumstances that I pray will never be repeated.
Should it happen again, I am prepared to respond accordingly.
Again.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Air Traffic Mike vs. Filet Mignon And Some Philly Art
The good Doc had some business to attend to yesterday in Philadelphia.
Nothing big, just some maintenance on his left leg. He needed a good wheelman to get him to and from.
Glad I could help.
Seeing as it would be an early appointment, we went up Wednesday night. Doc picked out a restaurant for dinner.
Doc knows food.
It was another of our famous "Beef Runs". We went to a place called appropriately enough, "The Prime Rib" at the Warwick Hotel.
I had the 10 oz. bone in filet mignon. Note Doc's prime rib in the foreground. It really is THAT big. I had a small sample. It is now the benchmark by which I'll measure all other prime rib.
Yesterday, while Doc was getting his stuff done, I had the chance to walk down Market Street towards City Hall. I didn't get all the way to it, but I walked a significant distance.
Philadelphia is a city of art. Most people don't realise that, even some of those who live close by.
So then, here's a small sample, taken by yours truly, on an eight block walk down Market Street from 38th Street to the 30th Street Terminal.
"The Consultation". University of Pennsylvania Presbyterian Hospital.
Untitled located in the Science Center.
"Face Fragment". Science Center.
Untitled. Campus of Drexel University.
"Mario The Magnificent". Campus of Drexel University.
Paul Peck Center. Okay, so it's not a piece of art. It is a magnificent piece of restoration work on the old Centennial Bank building built in 1876. Campus of Drexel University.
"Anthony Joseph Drexel", partner of J.C. Morgan and founder of Drexel University. Campus of Drexel University.
Soon my walk took me just south of Drexel's campus. I arrived at the 30th Street Station.
30th Street Station was a part of the old Pennsylvania Rail Road system. Amtrak calls it home now.
I hadn't been in here since 1966 when my great grandmother took the train to go see her youngest sister in Hartford.
But that's not why I went.
This is why I went. I went to see this piece of art. This statue is dedicated to those Pennsylvania Rail Road employees who lost their lives in the Second World War. It is a magnificent tribute to those men. Take a good look at the faces of the angel and his charge. It's as if he's trying not to cry as he carries out his duty. I tried, but I couldn't hold back the tears. My Dad and Doc's Dad both fought in that war. The young man in the angel's care could have easily been either one of them.
Citing the time, I took a cab ride back to the hospital.
Doc was good to go about an hour later. We stopped at a tavern on the way home, had a couple of killer roast pork sandwiches and got home late in the afternnoon.
Today it's back to the splitter and tending to Doc. He'll be on crutches for a few days, but he'll be fine.
Enjoy the artwork.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Nothing big, just some maintenance on his left leg. He needed a good wheelman to get him to and from.
Glad I could help.
Seeing as it would be an early appointment, we went up Wednesday night. Doc picked out a restaurant for dinner.
Doc knows food.
It was another of our famous "Beef Runs". We went to a place called appropriately enough, "The Prime Rib" at the Warwick Hotel.
I had the 10 oz. bone in filet mignon. Note Doc's prime rib in the foreground. It really is THAT big. I had a small sample. It is now the benchmark by which I'll measure all other prime rib.
Yesterday, while Doc was getting his stuff done, I had the chance to walk down Market Street towards City Hall. I didn't get all the way to it, but I walked a significant distance.
Philadelphia is a city of art. Most people don't realise that, even some of those who live close by.
So then, here's a small sample, taken by yours truly, on an eight block walk down Market Street from 38th Street to the 30th Street Terminal.
"The Consultation". University of Pennsylvania Presbyterian Hospital.
Untitled located in the Science Center.
"Face Fragment". Science Center.
Untitled. Campus of Drexel University.
"Mario The Magnificent". Campus of Drexel University.
Paul Peck Center. Okay, so it's not a piece of art. It is a magnificent piece of restoration work on the old Centennial Bank building built in 1876. Campus of Drexel University.
"Anthony Joseph Drexel", partner of J.C. Morgan and founder of Drexel University. Campus of Drexel University.
Soon my walk took me just south of Drexel's campus. I arrived at the 30th Street Station.
30th Street Station was a part of the old Pennsylvania Rail Road system. Amtrak calls it home now.
I hadn't been in here since 1966 when my great grandmother took the train to go see her youngest sister in Hartford.
But that's not why I went.
This is why I went. I went to see this piece of art. This statue is dedicated to those Pennsylvania Rail Road employees who lost their lives in the Second World War. It is a magnificent tribute to those men. Take a good look at the faces of the angel and his charge. It's as if he's trying not to cry as he carries out his duty. I tried, but I couldn't hold back the tears. My Dad and Doc's Dad both fought in that war. The young man in the angel's care could have easily been either one of them.
Citing the time, I took a cab ride back to the hospital.
Doc was good to go about an hour later. We stopped at a tavern on the way home, had a couple of killer roast pork sandwiches and got home late in the afternnoon.
Today it's back to the splitter and tending to Doc. He'll be on crutches for a few days, but he'll be fine.
Enjoy the artwork.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
"I'm Splitting In The Rain.........
.....just splittin' in the rain.
What a damp and soggy feelin',
I'll not be dry again."
Whew.
Yesterday's and today's weather has been less than ideal for any outdoor activity.
The "sealand" container was ACTUALLY supposed to be delivered today. The company called and inquired about the conditions where the container was to be placed. I walked down there.
Much too soggy to attempt a delivery today. There was a slim chance it might have worked, but the odds were greater that the truck would get stuck. No doubt it would have left large ruts that would require us to go back and fix.
"Not worth the risk" was my decision.
I went down to the splitter. The rain had stopped temporarily. It was slippery, but not unmanageably so.
I lost yesterday due to the rain, I wasn't prepared to lose another day.
So today, I started splitting the largest of the pieces we cut. Solo. These things are massive. The job was barely within my comfort zone in regards to safety.
To give you an idea of the sections' size here are some pictures.
Me standing behind the unsplit trunk sections.
Me standing on a trunk section set up at the splitter.
If I slip and one of these lands on top of my leg it will shatter it like a toothpick.
I finally called the operation to a halt at 1:00 pm. The rain stopped but the area I was working in finally muddied up to the point where safety became an issue. At least for a one man operation.
I'm off to the shower. Doc and I have another project tomorrow up in Philly. It is mostly in order, but we have some things we need to discuss and get set up.
I'll be back here late tomorrow or early Friday with the next blog.
Until then, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
What a damp and soggy feelin',
I'll not be dry again."
Whew.
Yesterday's and today's weather has been less than ideal for any outdoor activity.
The "sealand" container was ACTUALLY supposed to be delivered today. The company called and inquired about the conditions where the container was to be placed. I walked down there.
Much too soggy to attempt a delivery today. There was a slim chance it might have worked, but the odds were greater that the truck would get stuck. No doubt it would have left large ruts that would require us to go back and fix.
"Not worth the risk" was my decision.
I went down to the splitter. The rain had stopped temporarily. It was slippery, but not unmanageably so.
I lost yesterday due to the rain, I wasn't prepared to lose another day.
So today, I started splitting the largest of the pieces we cut. Solo. These things are massive. The job was barely within my comfort zone in regards to safety.
To give you an idea of the sections' size here are some pictures.
Me standing behind the unsplit trunk sections.
Me standing on a trunk section set up at the splitter.
If I slip and one of these lands on top of my leg it will shatter it like a toothpick.
I finally called the operation to a halt at 1:00 pm. The rain stopped but the area I was working in finally muddied up to the point where safety became an issue. At least for a one man operation.
I'm off to the shower. Doc and I have another project tomorrow up in Philly. It is mostly in order, but we have some things we need to discuss and get set up.
I'll be back here late tomorrow or early Friday with the next blog.
Until then, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Decisions, Decisions.......AND A FUMOT!
Normally I have little to no difficulty making a decision.
I was a professional "decision maker" for over 25 years.
So what's the rub?
It's sort of a three pronged situation.
A job opening is coming available after the first of the year. It is a contractor job to provide training back at my old place of employment, the Memphis Air Traffic Control Tower.
To say it's "right in my wheelhouse" is a major understatement.
I'd be doing some tracking work but mostly running the simulator in the Radar Simulation Lab. I'm very familiar with the lab. I wrote and developed most of the scenarios when I was medically disqualified for two years.
How good of a job did I do?
By the time I was finished with it, controllers and staff alike would stop in the Lab for various reasons and ask, "Is that live traffic on the scopes or one of the scenarios?".
One day I was beta testing a scenario in which a squall line of thunderstorms crosses the airport during an afternoon inbound. Two of the Support Specialists looked in, saw the "weather", and ran upstairs to close their car windows.
Sadly for them it was 85 degrees and sunny outside.
Oh yeah, one more thing. We reduced training time on live radar by a little over 30%.
The work is low stress. The pay is okay, around the mid 50K range. The co-workers already working there are some of my favorite people hands down.
So what's not to like?
The hours. After six months of retirement I find I like the hours retirement offers. I would prefer to work part time, maybe three days a week. That's not available.
Another offer became available as well. The pay is off the hook and it would be the adventure of a lifetime.
It could also prove fatal.
Presently, American contract controllers handle air traffic duties in Afghanistan. The money is in the 160K+ range with a large portion of that tax free. A two year hitch would be a nice post retirement boost. It also offers living quarters, travel to and from back home during the leave periods taken, and all the danger one can stand.
I have no fear of dying, just the desire not to.
Still, it is a compelling offer.
Then there's a personal situation. I have this woman friend. She's floated in and out of my life since two years after my divorce. We get along marvelously. We're alike in many ways and just as different simultaneously.
Right now she's sort of in a state of flux. With my returning home soon, it would be easy for me to have her join me (move in), let her get some focus, and see where it goes from there.
My gut feeling is it would work out very well. I'm just not sure if she wants to move back to Memphis. I'm sure I'd really like to stay there.
Guess that puts us both sort of in a state of flux.
Two of the options are doable simultaneously.
Come to think about it, she actually might entertain the idea of going to Afghanistan as well.
It has all been cascading through my brain for the better part of the last five days. Sleep comes in pieces. Last night I had to get out of the house and get a change of scenery so I could think.
With the Eagles playing the Redskins on a big screen TV at my 12 o'clock position, I hardly saw any of the game. I ate 7 wings out of the 24 and don't remember anything about them.
I hope I didn't eat any of the bones.
A "sounding board" would have been nice, but my best friend wanted to stay in.
I had no problem with that. It was probably best anyway. I wasn't very good company.
I'm still not today.
Contract job, dangerous contract job, and a home lifestyle change.
Not a "full plate" but three pretty big choices off the "Buffet of Life" table.
The saving grace is ultimately I don't have to do any of them and I'll still be just fine.
Its just that the possibilities are so tempting.
I'll figure it out.
Just not on this rainy Tuesday morning while waiting for a "sealand" container to be delivered.
Before I go, here's a FUMOT for the Saucer gang.
Any lower it would be in its own hole.
See you guys soon.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
I was a professional "decision maker" for over 25 years.
So what's the rub?
It's sort of a three pronged situation.
A job opening is coming available after the first of the year. It is a contractor job to provide training back at my old place of employment, the Memphis Air Traffic Control Tower.
To say it's "right in my wheelhouse" is a major understatement.
I'd be doing some tracking work but mostly running the simulator in the Radar Simulation Lab. I'm very familiar with the lab. I wrote and developed most of the scenarios when I was medically disqualified for two years.
How good of a job did I do?
By the time I was finished with it, controllers and staff alike would stop in the Lab for various reasons and ask, "Is that live traffic on the scopes or one of the scenarios?".
One day I was beta testing a scenario in which a squall line of thunderstorms crosses the airport during an afternoon inbound. Two of the Support Specialists looked in, saw the "weather", and ran upstairs to close their car windows.
Sadly for them it was 85 degrees and sunny outside.
Oh yeah, one more thing. We reduced training time on live radar by a little over 30%.
The work is low stress. The pay is okay, around the mid 50K range. The co-workers already working there are some of my favorite people hands down.
So what's not to like?
The hours. After six months of retirement I find I like the hours retirement offers. I would prefer to work part time, maybe three days a week. That's not available.
Another offer became available as well. The pay is off the hook and it would be the adventure of a lifetime.
It could also prove fatal.
Presently, American contract controllers handle air traffic duties in Afghanistan. The money is in the 160K+ range with a large portion of that tax free. A two year hitch would be a nice post retirement boost. It also offers living quarters, travel to and from back home during the leave periods taken, and all the danger one can stand.
I have no fear of dying, just the desire not to.
Still, it is a compelling offer.
Then there's a personal situation. I have this woman friend. She's floated in and out of my life since two years after my divorce. We get along marvelously. We're alike in many ways and just as different simultaneously.
Right now she's sort of in a state of flux. With my returning home soon, it would be easy for me to have her join me (move in), let her get some focus, and see where it goes from there.
My gut feeling is it would work out very well. I'm just not sure if she wants to move back to Memphis. I'm sure I'd really like to stay there.
Guess that puts us both sort of in a state of flux.
Two of the options are doable simultaneously.
Come to think about it, she actually might entertain the idea of going to Afghanistan as well.
It has all been cascading through my brain for the better part of the last five days. Sleep comes in pieces. Last night I had to get out of the house and get a change of scenery so I could think.
With the Eagles playing the Redskins on a big screen TV at my 12 o'clock position, I hardly saw any of the game. I ate 7 wings out of the 24 and don't remember anything about them.
I hope I didn't eat any of the bones.
A "sounding board" would have been nice, but my best friend wanted to stay in.
I had no problem with that. It was probably best anyway. I wasn't very good company.
I'm still not today.
Contract job, dangerous contract job, and a home lifestyle change.
Not a "full plate" but three pretty big choices off the "Buffet of Life" table.
The saving grace is ultimately I don't have to do any of them and I'll still be just fine.
Its just that the possibilities are so tempting.
I'll figure it out.
Just not on this rainy Tuesday morning while waiting for a "sealand" container to be delivered.
Before I go, here's a FUMOT for the Saucer gang.
Any lower it would be in its own hole.
See you guys soon.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Monday, October 26, 2009
.....And This BULLSH@T Answer Is More Acceptable????
?
Go. Both of you just go. Get a job where you both can only kill yourselves due to your character flaws.
Laptops over passengers?
Are you kidding us?
Good luck with that.
I hope the two of you never fly again, period.
You don't deserve to.
Go. Both of you just go. Get a job where you both can only kill yourselves due to your character flaws.
Laptops over passengers?
Are you kidding us?
Good luck with that.
I hope the two of you never fly again, period.
You don't deserve to.
Once Upon A Time Before The Internet...
I wonder who I'd get if I called this number today?
I guess I'd have to use this.
For the record, the phone above is in fact original to the house. It is no longer connected (obviously), but the magneto is still inside and hooked up to the crank.
Note: the painting is an original by Dr. Lloyd of his beloved late dog "Hokie". He was as fine a dog that ever trod a farm.
Miss ya boy.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
My Last Week On The Road
Finally.
The "Air Traffic Mike World Tour 2009" is coming to an end.
Between the two trips since May I've put more miles on my truck than I did in all of 2008.
It hasn't been all work. If you've followed the blog you've seen the day trips to Philly, the oceanfront, fishing, and side trips while en route.
Not exactly how I planned the first six months of retirement to say the least.
My time on the farm has been busy.
We started with stuff like this:
ended up with lots of these:
and are almost done making those into these:
Splitty had to get into the shot.
Mind you, there's more of that than pictured.
Here's a little ditty I call, "Air Traffic Mike vs 150lb. Piece of Black Walnut".
I'm sure it won't get an Oscar for "Best Short Film Involving Labor" but it is an accurate view of what I've been doing the last few weeks.
BTW, moving a piece that size by myself was not easy, but the 800lb capacity hand truck sure helped.
So, how much firewood came from that one little piece?
That much.
We get to these 250-300lb pieces tomorrow after it dries up a bit from today's rains.
This week we finish up the firewood, make a day trip into Philadelphia one last time, and close out our portion of the farm clean up.
The barn is just about completely taken down and hauled away. I know I keep promising a barn blog but I want it to be as complete as I can possibly make it.
Splitty and I will be back on the road a week from Monday or Tuesday. Looks like a touch and go in Virginia Beach to check on my brother Bruce, a stop in Ashville, NC for old times sake, and then back to Memphis.
It will be nice to be home for a bit, spending Sunday Funday with the gang, catching up on all the local news, and sleeping in my own king size bed.
Watch for more of Splitty's adventures from the road and the return of the gang from "Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC." (the official social think tank of Air Traffic Mike) coming soon.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
The "Air Traffic Mike World Tour 2009" is coming to an end.
Between the two trips since May I've put more miles on my truck than I did in all of 2008.
It hasn't been all work. If you've followed the blog you've seen the day trips to Philly, the oceanfront, fishing, and side trips while en route.
Not exactly how I planned the first six months of retirement to say the least.
My time on the farm has been busy.
We started with stuff like this:
ended up with lots of these:
and are almost done making those into these:
Splitty had to get into the shot.
Mind you, there's more of that than pictured.
Here's a little ditty I call, "Air Traffic Mike vs 150lb. Piece of Black Walnut".
I'm sure it won't get an Oscar for "Best Short Film Involving Labor" but it is an accurate view of what I've been doing the last few weeks.
BTW, moving a piece that size by myself was not easy, but the 800lb capacity hand truck sure helped.
So, how much firewood came from that one little piece?
That much.
We get to these 250-300lb pieces tomorrow after it dries up a bit from today's rains.
This week we finish up the firewood, make a day trip into Philadelphia one last time, and close out our portion of the farm clean up.
The barn is just about completely taken down and hauled away. I know I keep promising a barn blog but I want it to be as complete as I can possibly make it.
Splitty and I will be back on the road a week from Monday or Tuesday. Looks like a touch and go in Virginia Beach to check on my brother Bruce, a stop in Ashville, NC for old times sake, and then back to Memphis.
It will be nice to be home for a bit, spending Sunday Funday with the gang, catching up on all the local news, and sleeping in my own king size bed.
Watch for more of Splitty's adventures from the road and the return of the gang from "Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC." (the official social think tank of Air Traffic Mike) coming soon.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Additional Frequent Flier Miles?
This is wholly unacceptable.
A major airliner flies 150 miles past its destination?
I love this quote from the article:
"The crew stated they were in a heated discussion over airline policy and they lost situational awareness," the board said in a news release.
Since when does a discussion on "airline policy" supersede paying attention to getting your passengers to their destination safely and on time?
Frankly, I am suspicious of the pilots' story.
I'll be even more suspicious if they erased the cockpit voice recorder prior to exiting the aircraft.
Earlier this year two pilots flying a regional jet fell asleep at the helm and overshot their airport by 26 miles.
Fatigue is the bane of the transportation industry. Pilots and controllers both work crazy schedules. Many FAA facilities are open 24/7/365. At the Memphis Air Traffic Control Tower it was common practice to work a 5:45 am - 1:45 pm shift and then be scheduled to come back in that night at 10:00 pm to work the midnight shift.
By law the FAA was required to give us 8 hours in between shifts.
They gave us 8 hours 15 minutes. In that time I had to drive home, maybe get something to eat, unwind, and get some sleep.
Try it sometime. See how "refreshed" you are. Then do it for years.
Another good reason I retired so early.
As for the Northwest crew, either way those guys will likely get fired. If this was a case of "pilot fatigue", I hope they have some recourse.
It doesn't make what happened any less serious. In these post 9/11 days a few more moments of radio silence might have meant the military having to scramble fighter jets. If they were asleep and stayed that way until a low fuel state it could have been tragic.
Fortunately neither occurred.
By the way, I wonder if pilot fatigue had anything to do with this recent incident at the Atlanta Hartsfield airport.
Landing on a taxiway is a very serious offense, especially when you do it with a passenger jet.
Will the FAA and the airlines wait until someone falls asleep at the wheel and kills a bunch of folks?
There's a reason why the FAA got the nickname "The Tombstone Agency".
That's all I'll say about that. For now.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
A major airliner flies 150 miles past its destination?
I love this quote from the article:
"The crew stated they were in a heated discussion over airline policy and they lost situational awareness," the board said in a news release.
Since when does a discussion on "airline policy" supersede paying attention to getting your passengers to their destination safely and on time?
Frankly, I am suspicious of the pilots' story.
I'll be even more suspicious if they erased the cockpit voice recorder prior to exiting the aircraft.
Earlier this year two pilots flying a regional jet fell asleep at the helm and overshot their airport by 26 miles.
Fatigue is the bane of the transportation industry. Pilots and controllers both work crazy schedules. Many FAA facilities are open 24/7/365. At the Memphis Air Traffic Control Tower it was common practice to work a 5:45 am - 1:45 pm shift and then be scheduled to come back in that night at 10:00 pm to work the midnight shift.
By law the FAA was required to give us 8 hours in between shifts.
They gave us 8 hours 15 minutes. In that time I had to drive home, maybe get something to eat, unwind, and get some sleep.
Try it sometime. See how "refreshed" you are. Then do it for years.
Another good reason I retired so early.
As for the Northwest crew, either way those guys will likely get fired. If this was a case of "pilot fatigue", I hope they have some recourse.
It doesn't make what happened any less serious. In these post 9/11 days a few more moments of radio silence might have meant the military having to scramble fighter jets. If they were asleep and stayed that way until a low fuel state it could have been tragic.
Fortunately neither occurred.
By the way, I wonder if pilot fatigue had anything to do with this recent incident at the Atlanta Hartsfield airport.
Landing on a taxiway is a very serious offense, especially when you do it with a passenger jet.
Will the FAA and the airlines wait until someone falls asleep at the wheel and kills a bunch of folks?
There's a reason why the FAA got the nickname "The Tombstone Agency".
That's all I'll say about that. For now.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
"A Hunka Burning Love"?
PETA makes a phone call to .
In a world that rarely surprises me, occasionally some one or group steps up and takes the challenge.
This time it is PETA.
I can agree with some of their points of view. Clubbing baby seals for fashionable fur never did make sense to me either. However they start to get waaaay out of bounds to me when they start messing with the tradition food chain.
I have been a lifelong fisherman. I don't fish for sport, I eat what I take. Cheeseburger anybody? I'm there.
I went to Google to find their homepage. Here's the description below their title:
"PETA's animal rights campaigns include ending fur and leather use meat and dairy consumption fishing hunting trapping factory farming circuses bull fighting ..."
Ahem......ending meat and dairy consumption, fishing, and hunting? I'm pretty sure that ALL of civilization rose up because of those activities. The rise of farming activities and organized hunting/fishing sort of got us out of the caves. That led to the raising of animals for eggs, milk, and meat. The farming of crops was aided by the use of draft animals. Draft animals were still in use as late as last century here in the United States. Our country was built largely in part by the use of domesticated livestock, hunting, and fishing both recreational and commercial.
I've never seen much of a slaughtered pig or steer go to waste.
Whether that's good or bad is open to debate. Personally, I like sausage and scrapple.
So what does this have to do with me being surprised this morning?
This article from the Commercial Appeal in Memphis.
The best quote in my opinion?
"This would be a good way to let kids know the truth about how cows are suffering before they're turned into burgers or blue suede shoes," said PETA spokesman Ashley Byrne of Washington.
When's the last time any kid has even seen blue suede shoes? I'm 48 and have yet to see a pair.
The Elvis connection is laughable. From the opening paragraph in the words of Commercial Appeal reporter Michael Lollar,
"People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals wrote a letter Wednesday proposing to lease Elvis Presley's old Circle G Ranch in Horn Lake for use as a "Don't Be Cruel Educational Center" for children."
Elvis was many things and a carnivore is one of them. He used to have his own booth at a steakhouse on Madison back in the day.
I would doubt he said a prayer for the steer's soul just before tearing into a nice freshly grilled Porterhouse steak.
The only prayer he might have said about it was, "Lord, let this be tender.".
PETA might need to do some homework. The Memphis/northern Mississippi area could possibly lead the nation in meat consumption. Between a ton of good BBQ restaurants and Huey's burgers I alone average one whole pig and a half side of beef in one calendar year. Let's not forget the number of catfish farms scattered across Mississippi.
I don't see PETA getting a lot of local support for their far reaching mission except maybe for the soybean farmers. I have a feeling they too will shy away from this one. The farming community sticks together on most farming issues.
PETA...if you folks feel THAT strongly about the property why lease it? A lease seems to indicate you too have misgivings about the long term viability of your project.
You can buy it for a measly $5.6 million.
Elvis, if you're out there and not dead, could you find a way to respond to the PETA folks?
If you are dead, just keep spinning in your grave big guy and hang tight. Sooner or later it has to end.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
In a world that rarely surprises me, occasionally some one or group steps up and takes the challenge.
This time it is PETA.
I can agree with some of their points of view. Clubbing baby seals for fashionable fur never did make sense to me either. However they start to get waaaay out of bounds to me when they start messing with the tradition food chain.
I have been a lifelong fisherman. I don't fish for sport, I eat what I take. Cheeseburger anybody? I'm there.
I went to Google to find their homepage. Here's the description below their title:
"PETA's animal rights campaigns include ending fur and leather use meat and dairy consumption fishing hunting trapping factory farming circuses bull fighting ..."
Ahem......ending meat and dairy consumption, fishing, and hunting? I'm pretty sure that ALL of civilization rose up because of those activities. The rise of farming activities and organized hunting/fishing sort of got us out of the caves. That led to the raising of animals for eggs, milk, and meat. The farming of crops was aided by the use of draft animals. Draft animals were still in use as late as last century here in the United States. Our country was built largely in part by the use of domesticated livestock, hunting, and fishing both recreational and commercial.
I've never seen much of a slaughtered pig or steer go to waste.
Whether that's good or bad is open to debate. Personally, I like sausage and scrapple.
So what does this have to do with me being surprised this morning?
This article from the Commercial Appeal in Memphis.
The best quote in my opinion?
"This would be a good way to let kids know the truth about how cows are suffering before they're turned into burgers or blue suede shoes," said PETA spokesman Ashley Byrne of Washington.
When's the last time any kid has even seen blue suede shoes? I'm 48 and have yet to see a pair.
The Elvis connection is laughable. From the opening paragraph in the words of Commercial Appeal reporter Michael Lollar,
"People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals wrote a letter Wednesday proposing to lease Elvis Presley's old Circle G Ranch in Horn Lake for use as a "Don't Be Cruel Educational Center" for children."
Elvis was many things and a carnivore is one of them. He used to have his own booth at a steakhouse on Madison back in the day.
I would doubt he said a prayer for the steer's soul just before tearing into a nice freshly grilled Porterhouse steak.
The only prayer he might have said about it was, "Lord, let this be tender.".
PETA might need to do some homework. The Memphis/northern Mississippi area could possibly lead the nation in meat consumption. Between a ton of good BBQ restaurants and Huey's burgers I alone average one whole pig and a half side of beef in one calendar year. Let's not forget the number of catfish farms scattered across Mississippi.
I don't see PETA getting a lot of local support for their far reaching mission except maybe for the soybean farmers. I have a feeling they too will shy away from this one. The farming community sticks together on most farming issues.
PETA...if you folks feel THAT strongly about the property why lease it? A lease seems to indicate you too have misgivings about the long term viability of your project.
You can buy it for a measly $5.6 million.
Elvis, if you're out there and not dead, could you find a way to respond to the PETA folks?
If you are dead, just keep spinning in your grave big guy and hang tight. Sooner or later it has to end.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
If I Was A Dog, They'd Shoot Me
Seriously.
Welcome to midlife. The bulletproof body of the teen/twenty-something meets the reality of life.
Both of my knees sound like Rice Crispies when I walk the stairs. Arthritis and cartilage damage have settled in nicely on both. I have a tear in my right rotator cuff. I've suffered back spasms since I was 18, but they seem to come more frequently.
Know what? I actually have it pretty good.
My best friend, Pat, showed me the light.
He teaches school. He sees things differently than I. Always has.
Thank God for blessings as such.
We were in my truck coming back from the grocery store. Two old friends just talking about aches and pains and life in general.
Then he said it.
It didn't sink in until this morning.
I've been feeling a bit sorry for myself here the last three days. My body is sore, my brother is having a tough time of it, and I'm homesick.
Poor, poor, pour me another drink homesick.
I woke up this morning and I finally, actually, heard what he said.
I'm better for it.
Oh, what did he say?
This:
"Every time I think I'm having a bad day, I look at the special needs children at school. You know what? I've got it pretty good."
This is a guy who has medical problems worse than me. He had his shoulder repaired last year. He's facing surgery on one of his knees soon. He has other stuff going on (like the rest of us), yet he perseveres.
He's always persevered. He's an honest to goodness "tough guy". I don't have the words suitable enough to describe it. All I know is that I appreciate it.
My late Mother worked with the special needs children when I was in high school. She was a "Teacher's Aide" until the end of my Junior year. When I had enough college credits, I did some substitute teaching after my Winter/Spring semester. A couple of times, I was assigned the special needs classroom.
When those kids found out who my Mom was I was treated like a rock star.
I'm really sore this morning. My knees are on fire. My back is tighter than a noose.
Know what?
I've got it pretty good.
Thanks Pat.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Welcome to midlife. The bulletproof body of the teen/twenty-something meets the reality of life.
Both of my knees sound like Rice Crispies when I walk the stairs. Arthritis and cartilage damage have settled in nicely on both. I have a tear in my right rotator cuff. I've suffered back spasms since I was 18, but they seem to come more frequently.
Know what? I actually have it pretty good.
My best friend, Pat, showed me the light.
He teaches school. He sees things differently than I. Always has.
Thank God for blessings as such.
We were in my truck coming back from the grocery store. Two old friends just talking about aches and pains and life in general.
Then he said it.
It didn't sink in until this morning.
I've been feeling a bit sorry for myself here the last three days. My body is sore, my brother is having a tough time of it, and I'm homesick.
Poor, poor, pour me another drink homesick.
I woke up this morning and I finally, actually, heard what he said.
I'm better for it.
Oh, what did he say?
This:
"Every time I think I'm having a bad day, I look at the special needs children at school. You know what? I've got it pretty good."
This is a guy who has medical problems worse than me. He had his shoulder repaired last year. He's facing surgery on one of his knees soon. He has other stuff going on (like the rest of us), yet he perseveres.
He's always persevered. He's an honest to goodness "tough guy". I don't have the words suitable enough to describe it. All I know is that I appreciate it.
My late Mother worked with the special needs children when I was in high school. She was a "Teacher's Aide" until the end of my Junior year. When I had enough college credits, I did some substitute teaching after my Winter/Spring semester. A couple of times, I was assigned the special needs classroom.
When those kids found out who my Mom was I was treated like a rock star.
I'm really sore this morning. My knees are on fire. My back is tighter than a noose.
Know what?
I've got it pretty good.
Thanks Pat.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Sunday, Blustery Sunday
Wow, what a morning.
The rain continues and now the wind is chiming in. Gotta be in the mid 40's outside.
I'm sure the Phillies and Dodgers are looking forward to tonight's ballgame starting around 8:00 pm.
This morning I'd planned on going to the cemeteries to visit my parents' and brother's graves. Some have argued in the past that I should take that time and go to church.
I have nothing against church. I was born and raised Catholic. I went to CCD, did my first Holy Communion, and went through Confirmation. My career made it difficult to get to Mass regularly. I haven't gone to Mass more than 10 times this year.
I'm 23 years behind in Confession. Next time I go they'll have to have some relief priests warming up in the Confessional bullpen.
I'm pretty sure they have a bullpen.
I was chided by a Catholic friend in Memphis earlier this year for missing Mass so much. He told me, "You need to go and be in the presence of the Lord.".
"Are we not always in the presence of God?", was my retort.
That ended that.
Honestly, I find greater solace in the cemeteries of my family than I do in Mass. I say my prayers and clean up the areas around their markers. For the briefest of moments I get to think back and hear their voices.
I always leave feeling much better than when I came in.
Probably because I CAN leave.
Just kidding. I feel better because while I'm there I connected with them in the only way I have left. Prayer in the presence of my family and the Lord.
Sounds like church to me.
Until the next time, all y'all take care.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
The rain continues and now the wind is chiming in. Gotta be in the mid 40's outside.
I'm sure the Phillies and Dodgers are looking forward to tonight's ballgame starting around 8:00 pm.
This morning I'd planned on going to the cemeteries to visit my parents' and brother's graves. Some have argued in the past that I should take that time and go to church.
I have nothing against church. I was born and raised Catholic. I went to CCD, did my first Holy Communion, and went through Confirmation. My career made it difficult to get to Mass regularly. I haven't gone to Mass more than 10 times this year.
I'm 23 years behind in Confession. Next time I go they'll have to have some relief priests warming up in the Confessional bullpen.
I'm pretty sure they have a bullpen.
I was chided by a Catholic friend in Memphis earlier this year for missing Mass so much. He told me, "You need to go and be in the presence of the Lord.".
"Are we not always in the presence of God?", was my retort.
That ended that.
Honestly, I find greater solace in the cemeteries of my family than I do in Mass. I say my prayers and clean up the areas around their markers. For the briefest of moments I get to think back and hear their voices.
I always leave feeling much better than when I came in.
Probably because I CAN leave.
Just kidding. I feel better because while I'm there I connected with them in the only way I have left. Prayer in the presence of my family and the Lord.
Sounds like church to me.
Until the next time, all y'all take care.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
To All Of My Friends In Downtown Memphis.....
I miss each and all of you.
Deeply and sincerely.
I've been out here on the East coast longer than I had anticipated. Honestly, I wouldn't change a thing. There's a lot of stuff that's going on. Were I still working at my career I wouldn't have much of a chance to experience it.
Helping my older brother, helping my best friend and his family. In my book it doesn't get much better than that. I'm grateful every day for the blessings that have placed me in this position.
Having said that I'll say this. I miss you folks.
The following is in no particular order other than that set forth by a homesick ATM.
Now then.......
I miss Deni and Patrick at the Majestic Grille. The only thing more inviting than the food and atmosphere there are Deni and Patrick Reilly. In a world of good folks these two are among the best. So's the food there.
I miss John Bragg's Circa. Like Patrick and Deni, John is a good soul. John's sole is good, too. So is everything else he and his staff prepare.
Aldo's Bardog Tavern will be among the first places I hit upon my return. Great food across the board. Great service too. David has always been a strong bartender, Shanna is always a doll, Amanda is back after having a bambino, and Melissa is just perfect. Seriously. She's beautiful, smart, and charmng. I'm allowed to have favorites and she's at least THREE of them. Bardog probably has the BEST staff in Downtown. Now then, I know I forgot a couple of you guys, but I'll make it up in the tip pail upon my return.
I miss Erin at the the Blue Monkey in South Main. Sorry, but I can't find a link to that or the other store in Midtown.
One more restaurant shout out....the Flying Saucer. Great beers, great staff. My favorite (remember, this is MY blog, I can have favorites) bartender is Sarah. She's a ray of light, a beautiful woman, and one of the finest artists I know.
Hope I got the link right.
If not, let me know tomorrow and I'll take are of it.
On a personal note, I miss the Sunday Funday gang. Brunch sure is quiet without you.
I miss the weekday afternoon beer gang.
"HEY NOW.....!!!!"
You folks know who you are.
See all y'all soon, in the meantime buy the "Nuh-Uh Girl" an appetizer on me.
I even miss her eating off my plate.
Damn, I've got it bad.
Until then, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Deeply and sincerely.
I've been out here on the East coast longer than I had anticipated. Honestly, I wouldn't change a thing. There's a lot of stuff that's going on. Were I still working at my career I wouldn't have much of a chance to experience it.
Helping my older brother, helping my best friend and his family. In my book it doesn't get much better than that. I'm grateful every day for the blessings that have placed me in this position.
Having said that I'll say this. I miss you folks.
The following is in no particular order other than that set forth by a homesick ATM.
Now then.......
I miss Deni and Patrick at the Majestic Grille. The only thing more inviting than the food and atmosphere there are Deni and Patrick Reilly. In a world of good folks these two are among the best. So's the food there.
I miss John Bragg's Circa. Like Patrick and Deni, John is a good soul. John's sole is good, too. So is everything else he and his staff prepare.
Aldo's Bardog Tavern will be among the first places I hit upon my return. Great food across the board. Great service too. David has always been a strong bartender, Shanna is always a doll, Amanda is back after having a bambino, and Melissa is just perfect. Seriously. She's beautiful, smart, and charmng. I'm allowed to have favorites and she's at least THREE of them. Bardog probably has the BEST staff in Downtown. Now then, I know I forgot a couple of you guys, but I'll make it up in the tip pail upon my return.
I miss Erin at the the Blue Monkey in South Main. Sorry, but I can't find a link to that or the other store in Midtown.
One more restaurant shout out....the Flying Saucer. Great beers, great staff. My favorite (remember, this is MY blog, I can have favorites) bartender is Sarah. She's a ray of light, a beautiful woman, and one of the finest artists I know.
Hope I got the link right.
If not, let me know tomorrow and I'll take are of it.
On a personal note, I miss the Sunday Funday gang. Brunch sure is quiet without you.
I miss the weekday afternoon beer gang.
"HEY NOW.....!!!!"
You folks know who you are.
See all y'all soon, in the meantime buy the "Nuh-Uh Girl" an appetizer on me.
I even miss her eating off my plate.
Damn, I've got it bad.
Until then, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
INCOMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It is another rainy day here in rural South Jersey.
Not that I mind. Rain hitting the roof or a pane of glass is normally like a lullaby to me.
I was laying quietly in bed, halfway between a state of dreaming and being awake, when I thought I heard a salvo of gunfire.
I sat up and squinted at the clock. 6:45 am.
"Huh, must have been a dream." I thought to myself.
Then I heard it again. This time much longer in duration and much louder.
Now then there were three distinct possibilities for the source of the gunfire:
1) Salem had launched and all out offensive on Pennsville via the Mannington Meadows.
2) A revenuer had stumbled upon a still.
3) It was opening day for waterfowl hunting.
I fired up my trusty laptop and checked the New Jersey Fish and Wildlife website.
Opening day for hunting waterfowl.............October 17.
The gunfire started at first light.
I'm sure by the number of shots I've heard at least one duck or goose has been shredded into confetti by the crossfire.
Mind you, I have no qualms about hunting. I think it is a fine sport. My only personal stipulation is that I believe you should eat what you kill.
Sure, sometimes you have to kill animals for safety reasons. I'm not going to suggest you eat a coyote that's been decimating your chickens. It is pretty safe to say it won't taste like chicken. I imagine the cooking time on a coyote would be measured in days.
At the same time I see no reason to allow hunting of big game/exotic animals on preserves just for the thrill of the kill.
Want to kill an elephant for some macho wall decor and your own endowment enhancement?
For those who miss the point I'm making above, let me put it this way:
=
I'd make an international law that would require you to eat your big game kill. Chow down, hogs. I'm sure elephant tenderloin will be a nice filling meal.
Good luck with the remaining 8,713 pounds of meat. Hope you have a lot of friends.
I'd make it law that you couldn't get the head until you finished your elephant meat.
Good luck with that.
In the meantime the gunfire continues as ducks are lining up for the ovens, grills, and freezers of South Jersey.
Until the next time, all y'all take care.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Not that I mind. Rain hitting the roof or a pane of glass is normally like a lullaby to me.
I was laying quietly in bed, halfway between a state of dreaming and being awake, when I thought I heard a salvo of gunfire.
I sat up and squinted at the clock. 6:45 am.
"Huh, must have been a dream." I thought to myself.
Then I heard it again. This time much longer in duration and much louder.
Now then there were three distinct possibilities for the source of the gunfire:
1) Salem had launched and all out offensive on Pennsville via the Mannington Meadows.
2) A revenuer had stumbled upon a still.
3) It was opening day for waterfowl hunting.
I fired up my trusty laptop and checked the New Jersey Fish and Wildlife website.
Opening day for hunting waterfowl.............October 17.
The gunfire started at first light.
I'm sure by the number of shots I've heard at least one duck or goose has been shredded into confetti by the crossfire.
Mind you, I have no qualms about hunting. I think it is a fine sport. My only personal stipulation is that I believe you should eat what you kill.
Sure, sometimes you have to kill animals for safety reasons. I'm not going to suggest you eat a coyote that's been decimating your chickens. It is pretty safe to say it won't taste like chicken. I imagine the cooking time on a coyote would be measured in days.
At the same time I see no reason to allow hunting of big game/exotic animals on preserves just for the thrill of the kill.
Want to kill an elephant for some macho wall decor and your own endowment enhancement?
For those who miss the point I'm making above, let me put it this way:
=
I'd make an international law that would require you to eat your big game kill. Chow down, hogs. I'm sure elephant tenderloin will be a nice filling meal.
Good luck with the remaining 8,713 pounds of meat. Hope you have a lot of friends.
I'd make it law that you couldn't get the head until you finished your elephant meat.
Good luck with that.
In the meantime the gunfire continues as ducks are lining up for the ovens, grills, and freezers of South Jersey.
Until the next time, all y'all take care.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Letters, We Get Letters......
In a few rare circumstances I turn off the comments section. Sometimes it is if the topic is too personal, other times it is if the topic may be too explosive.
Recently I posted a blog entitled, "A Little Local (From Where I Grew Up) History".
Part of that story involved the mistreatment of Confederate soldiers at a nearby fort, and my feelings about the Civil War.
At the end I quoted a distant relative of mine, General William Tecumseh Sherman. He's famous for his quote, "All war is Hell.".
I think it sums up his feelings on the topic beautifully.
Later, upon my review of the post I found I had a comment. Here it is in its entirety:
"Anonymous said...
How are you related to Sherman? By blood? or just from being a damn Yankee? I wouldn't boast either way! That condo might not survived in Memphis while you are gone."
October 9, 2009 3:14 PM
My response was a bit brutal. I decided I wanted some time to review "Anonymous" reply. I disabled the comments a gave it some time.
I've given it some thought, so here we go.
First off where did the comment originate? From Little Rock, Arkansas. The ISP is SBC Internet Services (75.48.249.177) in Little Rock, AR.
How do I know that? That's for y'all to figure out.
Little Rock.....that would explain the excellence in grammar, punctuation, and the last sentence where he/she so boldly uses the past and present tense.
Anybody else thinking he/she may have been bombed?
Note to "Anonymous": IF YOU'RE GOING TO DRINK, DON'T TYPE. YOU COULD END UP GETTING A TUI (Typing Under the Influence) ON THE INFORMATION SUPER HIGHWAY OR WORSE YET GET INTO AN ACCIDENT AND KILL AN INNOCENT GERUND OR DANGLING PARTICIPLE!!!!!!
Now then let me answer, as best I can, the comments made by "Anonymous".
I'm related to General Sherman through my paternal grandmother. She was a second or third cousin, I'm not sure which.
I've lived all over the United States east of the Mississippi River. I've lived most of my adult life in the South. I don't consider myself a Yankee. I consider myself a citizen of the United States of America.
As far as boasting goes, look around you. You live in Arkansas. I'm not sure you even really know what a boast is since you have nothing to boast about.
Should you decide to post here drunk, maybe next time consider taking your "Anonymous" to Alcoholics Anonymous.
I'm sure they'll be glad you're there.
As for the rest of you folks, all y'all take care.
I have some personal business to attend to today.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Recently I posted a blog entitled, "A Little Local (From Where I Grew Up) History".
Part of that story involved the mistreatment of Confederate soldiers at a nearby fort, and my feelings about the Civil War.
At the end I quoted a distant relative of mine, General William Tecumseh Sherman. He's famous for his quote, "All war is Hell.".
I think it sums up his feelings on the topic beautifully.
Later, upon my review of the post I found I had a comment. Here it is in its entirety:
"Anonymous said...
How are you related to Sherman? By blood? or just from being a damn Yankee? I wouldn't boast either way! That condo might not survived in Memphis while you are gone."
October 9, 2009 3:14 PM
My response was a bit brutal. I decided I wanted some time to review "Anonymous" reply. I disabled the comments a gave it some time.
I've given it some thought, so here we go.
First off where did the comment originate? From Little Rock, Arkansas. The ISP is SBC Internet Services (75.48.249.177) in Little Rock, AR.
How do I know that? That's for y'all to figure out.
Little Rock.....that would explain the excellence in grammar, punctuation, and the last sentence where he/she so boldly uses the past and present tense.
Anybody else thinking he/she may have been bombed?
Note to "Anonymous": IF YOU'RE GOING TO DRINK, DON'T TYPE. YOU COULD END UP GETTING A TUI (Typing Under the Influence) ON THE INFORMATION SUPER HIGHWAY OR WORSE YET GET INTO AN ACCIDENT AND KILL AN INNOCENT GERUND OR DANGLING PARTICIPLE!!!!!!
Now then let me answer, as best I can, the comments made by "Anonymous".
I'm related to General Sherman through my paternal grandmother. She was a second or third cousin, I'm not sure which.
I've lived all over the United States east of the Mississippi River. I've lived most of my adult life in the South. I don't consider myself a Yankee. I consider myself a citizen of the United States of America.
As far as boasting goes, look around you. You live in Arkansas. I'm not sure you even really know what a boast is since you have nothing to boast about.
Should you decide to post here drunk, maybe next time consider taking your "Anonymous" to Alcoholics Anonymous.
I'm sure they'll be glad you're there.
As for the rest of you folks, all y'all take care.
I have some personal business to attend to today.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Random Thoughts And Updates
Good Wednesday morning folks.
I can hardly believe that October is nearly halfway over. The days are markedly shorter now and the tell tale chill in the air reminds me that yet one more Summer has passed.
I have two well defined projects left here in the Garden State one of which is finishing up the wood piles.
What does a "wood pile" look like?
Fair enough.
Here's one of the smaller ones. It is a pile of black walnut branch sections. Branch sections are usually high workload when splitting them. The twisted grain from other limbs extending from them means there is little likelihood of a clean split.
Fortunately I have some hydraullic might on my side.
Splitty the Maul posing with his buddy Splinty the Splitter.
Maybe it's just me but I think Splitty the Maul looks smashing in his Phillies attire.
No pun intended on "smashing".
Anyway, Splinty the Splitter is a 27 ton wood splitting guy. I can assure you that if used improperly you WILL lose digits.
Same goes for Splitty. That's how those splitting tools roll.
However, if used properly, the end result looks something like this:
Splitty examines Splinty's work.
He approves.
There's still quite a bit to go, but progress is being made. Hopefully I can get Splinty to the next farm by early next week and finish up the task at hand.
The barn is down. Flat. The folks that did it did a masterful job in the process.
It will be shown in a forthcoming blog with pictures from start to finish.
A quick brother Bruce update. He went into the hospital last week suffering from what was diagnosed as a urinary tract infection. An issue has developed. He's having difficulty urinating. They went in with what we like to call "the Wazzoo Cam" yesterday. The doctors found and removed a small growth, but nothing that would prohibit him from going normally. They are removing the catheter this morning and seeing if he can go on his own. If it is nerve damage causing the problem he'll have to have a catheter on for 24/7/365.
That sucks.
I worry for him. It'll be a big blow.
We'll just have to wait and pray for "rain".
In the meantime Splinty, Splitty, and I have our work cut out for us.
Until next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
I can hardly believe that October is nearly halfway over. The days are markedly shorter now and the tell tale chill in the air reminds me that yet one more Summer has passed.
I have two well defined projects left here in the Garden State one of which is finishing up the wood piles.
What does a "wood pile" look like?
Fair enough.
Here's one of the smaller ones. It is a pile of black walnut branch sections. Branch sections are usually high workload when splitting them. The twisted grain from other limbs extending from them means there is little likelihood of a clean split.
Fortunately I have some hydraullic might on my side.
Splitty the Maul posing with his buddy Splinty the Splitter.
Maybe it's just me but I think Splitty the Maul looks smashing in his Phillies attire.
No pun intended on "smashing".
Anyway, Splinty the Splitter is a 27 ton wood splitting guy. I can assure you that if used improperly you WILL lose digits.
Same goes for Splitty. That's how those splitting tools roll.
However, if used properly, the end result looks something like this:
Splitty examines Splinty's work.
He approves.
There's still quite a bit to go, but progress is being made. Hopefully I can get Splinty to the next farm by early next week and finish up the task at hand.
The barn is down. Flat. The folks that did it did a masterful job in the process.
It will be shown in a forthcoming blog with pictures from start to finish.
A quick brother Bruce update. He went into the hospital last week suffering from what was diagnosed as a urinary tract infection. An issue has developed. He's having difficulty urinating. They went in with what we like to call "the Wazzoo Cam" yesterday. The doctors found and removed a small growth, but nothing that would prohibit him from going normally. They are removing the catheter this morning and seeing if he can go on his own. If it is nerve damage causing the problem he'll have to have a catheter on for 24/7/365.
That sucks.
I worry for him. It'll be a big blow.
We'll just have to wait and pray for "rain".
In the meantime Splinty, Splitty, and I have our work cut out for us.
Until next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Now Leaving The Top 25..........
The "Ole Miss" Rebels.
Well, at least likely to drop out. A 3-2 record is a tough sell for Top 25 status.
22-3? At home? Are you kidding me?
In defense of the Rebs, Alabama is a buzzsaw this year. Nick Saban, as is his wont, has built 'Bama into a legitimate powerhouse.
Note to 'Bama fans: SABAN ABANDONS SHIP SHORTLY AFTER THIS POINT IN HIS PROGRAM EVERY TIME!!!!!!!!!
Just ask LSU.
One tangent down, more to follow.
"Ole Miss" was overrated in the preseason polls in my opinion. They got pushed up to #4 in the nation artificially by other top teams losses and their previous accomplishments. Neither is a true factor in how well a team will or will not perform.
There are some bright spots. One is the quarterback.
Snead is a talented kid. No doubt. He would benefit from some time alone in the backfield.
The defense isn't bad. They would benefit from some rest during the game.
There's just one problem.
The "Ole Miss" offensive line is just that. Offensive.
Note to "Ole Miss" offensive line: IF YOU GUYS HATE YOUR QUARTERBACK THAT MUCH, JUST KICK HIS ASS IN THE PARKING LOT!!! IF NOT, REMEMBER YOUR TEAMMATES AND FANS DESERVE BETTER!!!!
In the land of "Hotty Toddy" you guys are "Hotty Notties". Either man up, or man out. Swiss cheese has less holes.
J.C., you may have to transfer to another school or the "Witness Protection Program" to gain better Saturday safety. In the meantime, chin up kid. You're going to do just fine at the next level.
Can "Ole Miss" return to the "Top 10"? Maybe. They're going to have to run the board from here on out.
For the loyal and faithful "ole Miss" fans, hang tough. You guys and gals got sold a bill of goods by the preseason pundits this season. Hype is a fun ride, but like a one night stand, it's over all too soon. The shallow feeling of the next day is all you have left.
For the "Ole Miss" bandwagon fans, move on. Nothing here for you to see. Remind yourselves you're the worst sort of fan. You're the ones that talk shit first and skulk out of the room the fastest when things go sour.
As for me, I have no dog in this fight other than my distaste for the preseason polls. As a fan of the sport I wish they'd eliminate them until midseason when context can be established with some credibility.
Other teams have done the same and others will follow.
This year it was "Ole Miss" who proved my point by going from #4 to out the "Top 25" door in five games.
In the words of every kid who watched the Phillies play from 1967 untile they won the World Series in 1980, "Maybe next year.".
Until next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Friday, October 9, 2009
A Little Local (From Where I Grew Up) History
My career took me in a unique circle.
I left New Jersey for New Orleans, LA.
I left New Orleans, LA for Richmond, VA.
I left Richmond, VA for Memphis, TN.
In 25+ years of ATC I pretty much had the Civil War surrounded.
The term "Civil War" is mostly a Northern term.
Many Southerners call it "The War for State's Rights".
I always refer to it as the "War of Southern Arrogance".
Southern bravado had no chance against Northern industry.
The South did well for themselves. They got as far north as Gettysburg in quest of shoes.
I'm sure the fashionistas of the day approved.
All the places I worked and lived have well known connections to the Civil War. Richmond was the capitol of the Confederacy at one point. There are battlefields all over the state of Virginia including some earthenworks at the Richmond Airport. New Orleans and Memphis were places the South couldn't defend the Mississippi River. Courtesy of this, the South's death knell was struck from Memphis.
Really? Memphis?
Yep.
General Sherman left Memphis for Atlanta one day. The first battle would be fought at Collierville, TN. It was only a skirmish. What happened there set the stage for his "March to the Sea".
So where does Pennsville, New Jersey fit into the "Civil war" scheme of things?
In two ways. One is in the Delaware River, the other on land here in town.
This is Fort Delaware. I took this picture from atop of the ramparts of Fort Mott here in Pennsville.
Fort Delaware was part of a series of forts designed to protect the cities along the Delaware River. During the Civil War it became a POW camp. Conditions were squalid there to say the least. The area was rife with mosquitos courtesy of all the marshlands nearby. Thousands of soldiers died there due to the conditions and the substandard treatment they received.
The bodies couldn't be interred on Pea Patch Island. It was too small and much too wet. In what would become a tradition of dumping your unwanted shit in New Jersey, they transferred the bodies to Pennsville and buried them at Finns Point.
Almost 2,400+ were buried there to be exact.
Not quite Andersonville, but pretty horrible nonetheless.
The monument to the dead Southern soldiers. It is the only nice thing the North ever did for these men.
The main marker from the obelisk.
Finns Point has two other interesting points of history.
This small section contains the remains of German submariners killed during World War Two. Their ships were sunk in the Delaware Bay just south of here.
Just a small reminder that not all of World War Two was fought overseas or in Hawaii.
The other event at Finns Point was much more recent.
A man on a murder spree stopped here in 1997. A nice young fellow named Andrew Cunanan.
He killed the caretaker, William Reese, here and stole his truck. After that it was off to Miami where he would kill Gianni Versace.
Civil War, World War Two, national murder spree. We've seen it all here in Pennsvile.
General Sherman once said, "All war is Hell.".
He was a brilliant man.
Glad to be related to the fellow.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
I gotta go pick up a trailer I accidentally trashed the other day.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
I left New Jersey for New Orleans, LA.
I left New Orleans, LA for Richmond, VA.
I left Richmond, VA for Memphis, TN.
In 25+ years of ATC I pretty much had the Civil War surrounded.
The term "Civil War" is mostly a Northern term.
Many Southerners call it "The War for State's Rights".
I always refer to it as the "War of Southern Arrogance".
Southern bravado had no chance against Northern industry.
The South did well for themselves. They got as far north as Gettysburg in quest of shoes.
I'm sure the fashionistas of the day approved.
All the places I worked and lived have well known connections to the Civil War. Richmond was the capitol of the Confederacy at one point. There are battlefields all over the state of Virginia including some earthenworks at the Richmond Airport. New Orleans and Memphis were places the South couldn't defend the Mississippi River. Courtesy of this, the South's death knell was struck from Memphis.
Really? Memphis?
Yep.
General Sherman left Memphis for Atlanta one day. The first battle would be fought at Collierville, TN. It was only a skirmish. What happened there set the stage for his "March to the Sea".
So where does Pennsville, New Jersey fit into the "Civil war" scheme of things?
In two ways. One is in the Delaware River, the other on land here in town.
This is Fort Delaware. I took this picture from atop of the ramparts of Fort Mott here in Pennsville.
Fort Delaware was part of a series of forts designed to protect the cities along the Delaware River. During the Civil War it became a POW camp. Conditions were squalid there to say the least. The area was rife with mosquitos courtesy of all the marshlands nearby. Thousands of soldiers died there due to the conditions and the substandard treatment they received.
The bodies couldn't be interred on Pea Patch Island. It was too small and much too wet. In what would become a tradition of dumping your unwanted shit in New Jersey, they transferred the bodies to Pennsville and buried them at Finns Point.
Almost 2,400+ were buried there to be exact.
Not quite Andersonville, but pretty horrible nonetheless.
The monument to the dead Southern soldiers. It is the only nice thing the North ever did for these men.
The main marker from the obelisk.
Finns Point has two other interesting points of history.
This small section contains the remains of German submariners killed during World War Two. Their ships were sunk in the Delaware Bay just south of here.
Just a small reminder that not all of World War Two was fought overseas or in Hawaii.
The other event at Finns Point was much more recent.
A man on a murder spree stopped here in 1997. A nice young fellow named Andrew Cunanan.
He killed the caretaker, William Reese, here and stole his truck. After that it was off to Miami where he would kill Gianni Versace.
Civil War, World War Two, national murder spree. We've seen it all here in Pennsvile.
General Sherman once said, "All war is Hell.".
He was a brilliant man.
Glad to be related to the fellow.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
I gotta go pick up a trailer I accidentally trashed the other day.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
When Old Buildings Fail
Things are a bit somber here. The barn IS coming down. The folks that are doing it seem to be very nice and decent people.
It doesn't remove the pain that my friend is feeling, but I have to imagine it softens the blow just a bit.
The truth of the matter is that he did everything in his power to save the old place. It was about five degrees off plumb to the south when he took possession of the farm. He called upon the best experts he could find, the Amish, to help preserve the building. They came down, straightened it up, braced it with cable, and pretty soon it was back in usable condition.
Sadly, the storm that hit here this June past was too much for it to bear.
The damnedest thing for me is that this seems to be a recurring theme in my life right now.
Back home in Memphis there stands a pyramid conveniently named, "The Pyramid". It is a big shiny, stainless steel sided, money pit that was built in the lowest hole they could find.
In a city nicknamed "The Bluff City" it seemed like someone with land must have had some connections. Anyway, this boondoggle of a building started off as a private enterprise and finished as a lawsuit/public works project/huge debt. Memphis and Shelby County ended up having to finish the building.
It served as the home of the University of Memphis Tigers, the first home of the relocated NBA Grizzlies, and an arena in general.
The seats were uncomfortable, it had zero pizazz, and cost way too much for what the taxpayers and users got.
It opened in 1991 and closed in 2004. It has been empty for five years generating nothing but expenses. Bass Pro Shops has been warily interested in the building but that has been a laboriously slow process. Last November, Bass Pro Shops signed a contract paying the city/county $35,000 per month to retain the rights to the structure.
Problem solved, a win for everybody right? Wrong. It seems now that an additional $19.7 million is needed to bring the building up to code for the purpose of seismic safety.
How about this for an idea? Tear it down. It cost $65 million dollars to build. It is poorly sited and badly constructed. Where age took its toll on the barn, poor workmanship and compromise were the downfall of the Pyramid.
In another parallel story, my ex-wife is having to deal with stupidity. Not mine nor hers, but her sister's. They grew up on a farm. None of the three brothers who farmed it are alive. One widow still lives there. Her father's home has been vacant for about six months, although "Pop" has been deceased since 2001. The house is 60 years old, wasn't built particularly well, and is showing its age. The brothers always said, "When we're gone (meaning them and their wives), tear 'em down." Makes perfect sense. Empty building cost money in taxes, repair, and insurance. They served their need as designed in their day. Pop's home has failed. It needs significant repairs to plumbing, HVAC, and structure.
Sounds like a candidate for the wrecking ball.
It is. Unless you're my ex-sister in law. Two cousins and the elderly Aunt run the corporation overseeing the farm. The cousins, my ex being one of them, succeeded their fathers. The Aunt succeeded her late husband. My ex's older sister benefits from the proceeds, but has no say.
It drives her nuts. She seems to think it should all be hers.
That's another story for another time.
The barn failed. It is coming down.
The Pyramid failed prior to completion. It appears we'll be putting even more money down the hole. It should come down.
Two small homes, one approaching the dilapidated stage, on a farm are taking up valuable farm land and money. They've done their job and are currently failing. Dollar on a dime bet they come down.
I feel sorry for my best friend and ex-wife. They're just doing what's right.
Let's see how Memphis fares.
I have a bad feeling about this.
In the meantime, I'm taking the stand off a mildly damaged trailer and splitting some wood if the rain stops.
Until the next time, all y'all take care.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
It doesn't remove the pain that my friend is feeling, but I have to imagine it softens the blow just a bit.
The truth of the matter is that he did everything in his power to save the old place. It was about five degrees off plumb to the south when he took possession of the farm. He called upon the best experts he could find, the Amish, to help preserve the building. They came down, straightened it up, braced it with cable, and pretty soon it was back in usable condition.
Sadly, the storm that hit here this June past was too much for it to bear.
The damnedest thing for me is that this seems to be a recurring theme in my life right now.
Back home in Memphis there stands a pyramid conveniently named, "The Pyramid". It is a big shiny, stainless steel sided, money pit that was built in the lowest hole they could find.
In a city nicknamed "The Bluff City" it seemed like someone with land must have had some connections. Anyway, this boondoggle of a building started off as a private enterprise and finished as a lawsuit/public works project/huge debt. Memphis and Shelby County ended up having to finish the building.
It served as the home of the University of Memphis Tigers, the first home of the relocated NBA Grizzlies, and an arena in general.
The seats were uncomfortable, it had zero pizazz, and cost way too much for what the taxpayers and users got.
It opened in 1991 and closed in 2004. It has been empty for five years generating nothing but expenses. Bass Pro Shops has been warily interested in the building but that has been a laboriously slow process. Last November, Bass Pro Shops signed a contract paying the city/county $35,000 per month to retain the rights to the structure.
Problem solved, a win for everybody right? Wrong. It seems now that an additional $19.7 million is needed to bring the building up to code for the purpose of seismic safety.
How about this for an idea? Tear it down. It cost $65 million dollars to build. It is poorly sited and badly constructed. Where age took its toll on the barn, poor workmanship and compromise were the downfall of the Pyramid.
In another parallel story, my ex-wife is having to deal with stupidity. Not mine nor hers, but her sister's. They grew up on a farm. None of the three brothers who farmed it are alive. One widow still lives there. Her father's home has been vacant for about six months, although "Pop" has been deceased since 2001. The house is 60 years old, wasn't built particularly well, and is showing its age. The brothers always said, "When we're gone (meaning them and their wives), tear 'em down." Makes perfect sense. Empty building cost money in taxes, repair, and insurance. They served their need as designed in their day. Pop's home has failed. It needs significant repairs to plumbing, HVAC, and structure.
Sounds like a candidate for the wrecking ball.
It is. Unless you're my ex-sister in law. Two cousins and the elderly Aunt run the corporation overseeing the farm. The cousins, my ex being one of them, succeeded their fathers. The Aunt succeeded her late husband. My ex's older sister benefits from the proceeds, but has no say.
It drives her nuts. She seems to think it should all be hers.
That's another story for another time.
The barn failed. It is coming down.
The Pyramid failed prior to completion. It appears we'll be putting even more money down the hole. It should come down.
Two small homes, one approaching the dilapidated stage, on a farm are taking up valuable farm land and money. They've done their job and are currently failing. Dollar on a dime bet they come down.
I feel sorry for my best friend and ex-wife. They're just doing what's right.
Let's see how Memphis fares.
I have a bad feeling about this.
In the meantime, I'm taking the stand off a mildly damaged trailer and splitting some wood if the rain stops.
Until the next time, all y'all take care.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Almost An "0 fer" Day
The weather was forecast to be perfect.
Perfect weather for someone who has a lot of piles of wood to be split.
I was up around 7:00 am. Yeah, that's a "sleep in" time for me normally.
In hindsight maybe I should have stayed in bed.
I made my way outside. I started to take the dump trailer off the Ford F-250 truck that serves as one of the main workhorses here on the farm.
I set my phone down on the seat of the truck and set about removing the trailer. My phone goes off with my niece's text tone. I walk to the cab of the truck. Lindsay doesn't text me unless it's an emergency.
"Dad's in the ER"
That's really not good news. Her Dad is my brother Bruce who's fighting cancer in between fighting infections and other ailments brought on by chemotherapy.
I call her right away. No answer.
I call Bruce's wife's cell phone. No answer.
I started to panic.
Finally, I got a hold of Lindsay. Dad's running a fever, has low blood pressure, and a high pulse rate. The doctor's had ordered tests.
I thank her for returning my call and hang up.
That's when my bad day started.
I had unhooked the trailer tongue from the hitch. Unfortunately I had not taken the safety chains off. Normally, I do that first, but for some reason neglected that. I started the truck and put it in drive. You can pretty much guess what happened next.
I broke the stand clean off the dump trailer.
With the dump trailer safely out of commission, I changed the ball on the trailer hitch, hooked up the hydraulic splitter, and headed down to the first wood pile.
Suddenly, I had to go to the bathroom. You know, the cold sweat sort of "Had to go". I'm happy to report that I made it. Just in time too. The cleaning ladies had arrived. The upstairs bathroom was fouled, but would likely air out by the time they got upstairs. I thought that would be the end of it. It was, until I got up to the third floor bedroom I've been occupying.
Suddenly, a fart went very wrong. REALLY wrong.
It took a few minutes to get cleaned up.
Decorum prohibits any further details.
Suffice it to say I was pretty aggravated.
I started splitting wood. Remarkably, that went well. I was able to break down two wood piles and get started on a third.
I stopped around 2:25 pm so I could shower up. I had to pick Wally up from school, so it made sense to call it a splitting day then.
Fortunately the rest of the day was uneventful.
For a day that started so horribly I was happy to see it end in a "push".
Pat got home. He lifted the trailer with the front end loader. I blocked it up and grabbed what was left of the stand. Not too bad, just one piece (so far) of torn up metal. I'll take the rest of it apart tomorrow and see what we'll need to fix it.
In the meantime, I'm just happy to be at the end of this day.
Bruce is in the hospital with a urinary tract infection. The urologist wants to run some tests, so he'll be there for a few days hanging out with his newest, bestest friend "Pissy the Catheter".
My bad days really fall apart in comparison to his.
That's what I'm grateful for most right now.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
I'm going to bed early.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Perfect weather for someone who has a lot of piles of wood to be split.
I was up around 7:00 am. Yeah, that's a "sleep in" time for me normally.
In hindsight maybe I should have stayed in bed.
I made my way outside. I started to take the dump trailer off the Ford F-250 truck that serves as one of the main workhorses here on the farm.
I set my phone down on the seat of the truck and set about removing the trailer. My phone goes off with my niece's text tone. I walk to the cab of the truck. Lindsay doesn't text me unless it's an emergency.
"Dad's in the ER"
That's really not good news. Her Dad is my brother Bruce who's fighting cancer in between fighting infections and other ailments brought on by chemotherapy.
I call her right away. No answer.
I call Bruce's wife's cell phone. No answer.
I started to panic.
Finally, I got a hold of Lindsay. Dad's running a fever, has low blood pressure, and a high pulse rate. The doctor's had ordered tests.
I thank her for returning my call and hang up.
That's when my bad day started.
I had unhooked the trailer tongue from the hitch. Unfortunately I had not taken the safety chains off. Normally, I do that first, but for some reason neglected that. I started the truck and put it in drive. You can pretty much guess what happened next.
I broke the stand clean off the dump trailer.
With the dump trailer safely out of commission, I changed the ball on the trailer hitch, hooked up the hydraulic splitter, and headed down to the first wood pile.
Suddenly, I had to go to the bathroom. You know, the cold sweat sort of "Had to go". I'm happy to report that I made it. Just in time too. The cleaning ladies had arrived. The upstairs bathroom was fouled, but would likely air out by the time they got upstairs. I thought that would be the end of it. It was, until I got up to the third floor bedroom I've been occupying.
Suddenly, a fart went very wrong. REALLY wrong.
It took a few minutes to get cleaned up.
Decorum prohibits any further details.
Suffice it to say I was pretty aggravated.
I started splitting wood. Remarkably, that went well. I was able to break down two wood piles and get started on a third.
I stopped around 2:25 pm so I could shower up. I had to pick Wally up from school, so it made sense to call it a splitting day then.
Fortunately the rest of the day was uneventful.
For a day that started so horribly I was happy to see it end in a "push".
Pat got home. He lifted the trailer with the front end loader. I blocked it up and grabbed what was left of the stand. Not too bad, just one piece (so far) of torn up metal. I'll take the rest of it apart tomorrow and see what we'll need to fix it.
In the meantime, I'm just happy to be at the end of this day.
Bruce is in the hospital with a urinary tract infection. The urologist wants to run some tests, so he'll be there for a few days hanging out with his newest, bestest friend "Pissy the Catheter".
My bad days really fall apart in comparison to his.
That's what I'm grateful for most right now.
Until the next time, all y'all take care of yourselves.
I'm going to bed early.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Play Ball!!!!
A day at the baseball stadium is a day well spent in my mind.
Maybe for my next career I'll just go to work for a Major League baseball team.
I'm pretty sure I'm too old and out of shape to play for one.
I'm also positive that if I were to attempt a slide into home plate, two things would happen:
1. The game would be suspended until they could fill in the five foot deep trough my thighs dug up just short of the plate.
2. The west coast of England would be demolished by the ensuing tsunami.
Seeing as how that's off the table, I think I'd be content to work in the stadium.
Citzens Bank Park, the two year old home of the defending World Series Champion Philadelphia Phillies, is a gem of a place. Veteans Stadium, its dowdy predecssor, could hardly compare.
Top flight food, amenities, and atmosphere aside, it is just a great place to watch a game in. There isn't a bad view of the field in the place. My friend Pat obtained some tickets for the game. We sat in front of the Hall of Fame Club, abeam third base, with nothing between us and the rail except an unused television camera stand.
Taken from my seat, section 229, row 4, seat three.
My partners in crime for the afternoon, Quentin (front), Dr. Lloyd (back, left), and Jay (only fan in stadium wearing a sports coat).
Scoreboard in left field and bullpens in center field. Good luck clearing the 401' marker in front of the vines.
A close up of the massive left field scoreboard.
I must say that a good time was had by all.
What's that? You're asking where Wally (Pat's oldest son) and "Splitty the Maul" were?
Wally turned 16 earlier this week. He had a birthday party last night.
I think Wally really liked his birthday present. It's going to be a bad year to be made out of venison in Salem County this year.
As for Splitty, he entertained himself on the farm.
Splitty played "Hide and Seek" with the chickens....
took the go kart for a spin....
and got out on the trampoline.
Splitty even offered to cut the grass.
Unfortunately for Splitty, I had already done that earlier in the week.
So there you have it. Baseball, birthday, splitting maul, one day.
Somehow, in my world, that's not so crazy.
Until next time all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Maybe for my next career I'll just go to work for a Major League baseball team.
I'm pretty sure I'm too old and out of shape to play for one.
I'm also positive that if I were to attempt a slide into home plate, two things would happen:
1. The game would be suspended until they could fill in the five foot deep trough my thighs dug up just short of the plate.
2. The west coast of England would be demolished by the ensuing tsunami.
Seeing as how that's off the table, I think I'd be content to work in the stadium.
Citzens Bank Park, the two year old home of the defending World Series Champion Philadelphia Phillies, is a gem of a place. Veteans Stadium, its dowdy predecssor, could hardly compare.
Top flight food, amenities, and atmosphere aside, it is just a great place to watch a game in. There isn't a bad view of the field in the place. My friend Pat obtained some tickets for the game. We sat in front of the Hall of Fame Club, abeam third base, with nothing between us and the rail except an unused television camera stand.
Taken from my seat, section 229, row 4, seat three.
My partners in crime for the afternoon, Quentin (front), Dr. Lloyd (back, left), and Jay (only fan in stadium wearing a sports coat).
Scoreboard in left field and bullpens in center field. Good luck clearing the 401' marker in front of the vines.
A close up of the massive left field scoreboard.
I must say that a good time was had by all.
What's that? You're asking where Wally (Pat's oldest son) and "Splitty the Maul" were?
Wally turned 16 earlier this week. He had a birthday party last night.
I think Wally really liked his birthday present. It's going to be a bad year to be made out of venison in Salem County this year.
As for Splitty, he entertained himself on the farm.
Splitty played "Hide and Seek" with the chickens....
took the go kart for a spin....
and got out on the trampoline.
Splitty even offered to cut the grass.
Unfortunately for Splitty, I had already done that earlier in the week.
So there you have it. Baseball, birthday, splitting maul, one day.
Somehow, in my world, that's not so crazy.
Until next time all y'all take care of yourselves.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
Friday, October 2, 2009
In Memoriam
I received some sad news yesterday. A young friend passed away.
Elizabeth "Liza" Raybuck Goudy.
I first met her downtown some years back. She was a college student working at Dan McGuinness Pub at the Peabody Place. It was around the corner from my condo, had great food, and a great staff. I soon became a regular, especially after my divorce.
"Liza" soon became one of my favorites. Even if I ended up in another section or just ate at the bar, she'd stop by and chat. She was like that. Very easy to talk to, always upbeat, and always ready to listen.
She was studying social work. From my observations, she had the perfect set of skills to be successful in that career field.
Time passed on, Liza's career took her from the downtown restaurant. The downtown store eventually closed. We saw much less of each other. Liza had also become engaged and then married, becoming Liza Goudy.
New lives and old lives travel different orbits. With her being a newlywed and starting a career and with me retiring and hitting the road, I can honestly say the last time I saw her was back in the Winter. She was happy and excited about the future.
It is the "Liza" I'll always hold close to my heart.
Her passing was sudden and accidental. There will be lots of second guessing from souls left behind. Questions to selves, one another, and God. Such is the nature of human beings, myself included. I pray that those close to the situation realize that there is no one person to fault. From what I've been told it is just one of those horrible off chance accidents. Blaming someone for everything in this matter is unjust. More likely it is just an extension of self guilt and grief.
Today my world's a little less bright and happy. That'll pass over time. The good news is that my life improved from the first day I met a charming young, intelligent girl while sitting over some fish and chips. I was having a sad down day, she made me laugh. She was a friend from that moment on.
Souls leave Earth, but their legacy will always be the love they leave behind.
For that "Liza" I thank you.
Mike
Elizabeth "Liza" Raybuck Goudy.
I first met her downtown some years back. She was a college student working at Dan McGuinness Pub at the Peabody Place. It was around the corner from my condo, had great food, and a great staff. I soon became a regular, especially after my divorce.
"Liza" soon became one of my favorites. Even if I ended up in another section or just ate at the bar, she'd stop by and chat. She was like that. Very easy to talk to, always upbeat, and always ready to listen.
She was studying social work. From my observations, she had the perfect set of skills to be successful in that career field.
Time passed on, Liza's career took her from the downtown restaurant. The downtown store eventually closed. We saw much less of each other. Liza had also become engaged and then married, becoming Liza Goudy.
New lives and old lives travel different orbits. With her being a newlywed and starting a career and with me retiring and hitting the road, I can honestly say the last time I saw her was back in the Winter. She was happy and excited about the future.
It is the "Liza" I'll always hold close to my heart.
Her passing was sudden and accidental. There will be lots of second guessing from souls left behind. Questions to selves, one another, and God. Such is the nature of human beings, myself included. I pray that those close to the situation realize that there is no one person to fault. From what I've been told it is just one of those horrible off chance accidents. Blaming someone for everything in this matter is unjust. More likely it is just an extension of self guilt and grief.
Today my world's a little less bright and happy. That'll pass over time. The good news is that my life improved from the first day I met a charming young, intelligent girl while sitting over some fish and chips. I was having a sad down day, she made me laugh. She was a friend from that moment on.
Souls leave Earth, but their legacy will always be the love they leave behind.
For that "Liza" I thank you.
Mike
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Memphis Downtown Olympics
Splitty will be there.
That's all I have to say about that.
Air Traffic Mike, ret.
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