Why we should read the Dew Point

Here is why looking at the humidity outside to understand how yucky it feels is misleading. We should be watching the dew point temperature to tell how sticky it feels to our skin.

The humidity can be high and the dew point low and it feels great and vice versa. Look at our current weather here. It is only 75 and should feel great, but our dew point is 73 AND our humidity is 95%. This makes it feel sopping wet outside even with our 8mph southeasterly wind.

Billings, Montana where my BIL  works, it is 56 degrees and has a humidity rating of 88%. It should feel cool and damp, right? Maybe even cold for us Gulf Coast Texans.

Wrong. It has a dew point of 53 degrees and with a 6 mph wind, it feels downright dry, cool, and pleasant. Montana folks would swim in this weather if the rivers and lakes weren't about 35 degrees. In fact, Montana folks fish in the water instead of swimming in it.
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Say no to winter, but save us from Mossies!

My 2 winters in Montana ruined me for freezing weather. The Great Plains can do that to a person. The wind is always blowing and the frigid air is not what I call refreshing. Its fricken cold! When I was stationed in Great Falls Montana, it snowed on the 4^th of July. The year was 1971. I related this to a resident of Casper, Wyoming back in 1986 and they remembered it quite well, even though they were to south a good piece.

I do not remember getting bit by mosquitoes in Montana.  I do remember the terrible cold.

I would much rather be warm. Notice I didn’t say hot. I can handle hot if its dry, but this past summer was wet, real wet. Like someone on Facebook posted, it only rained twice this summer - once for 45 days and again for 32 days.  We ended summer with a massive daily crop of mosquitoes. 3 times a week I watch the skeeter sprayer go past my house and yet they just kept biting me. My Bride rarely gets bitten, as they are feasting on me and my grandson.

The danged black salt marsh mosquitoes have been the bane of my outdoor existence (Aedes taeniorhynchus), a nuisance mosquito known as an aggressive biter, but not considered a disease-carrier of major concern. I guess that’s a plus, but holy smokes this tiny parasite packs a powerful and painful whelp. Their attraction to me has spurred my interest in remedies, because bug spray is only as good as my spraying ability. In other words, if I miss a single spot with Deet, the tiny insect nails me there. This includes biting my hiney through the webbing of my outdoor chair.

At others suggestions, I’ve tried Campho-Phenique, CeraVe itch relief moisturizing cream, Chiggerex 2X Power and Benadryl itch relief stick, which didn’t do a thing to relieve the itch and pain. I found a tube of Lidocaine ointment 5% that works real well. Of the other concoctions, only CeraVe works and it works well,

Something I found to be amazing is the cost of Campho-Phenique. I bought a ¾ fluid ounce bottle from Kroger for $5. Doing the rithmatick on this, the fluid is $800 a gallon. They sure are proud of this stuff. Chiggerex 2X Power works well and is my go to chemical for most bites and stings, but the black salt marsh skeeter demands a stronger topical analgesic.

If the temperature dropping into the 30’s, as it is predicted, stops me from getting bitten, then I am all for it, but our nightly visits to the backyard swing will probably suffer also. One person commented that we have 2 seasons and they are probably correct. It’s either too hot and humid, or it is too cold and wet to really enjoy our weather. 

I guess I’ll just be happy to not be bit repeatedly when outside.

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A Well Executed Plan

 I was one of 4 airman one cold fall day on the Great Plains of Montana with visions of bagging a number of pheasants. We went down to Recreation Supply and rented four 12 gauge pump shotguns and stopped at a hardware store and bought 4 boxes of shells. We had our licenses and orange vests and were ready. We had a plan... or so we thought. Now contrary to what most people believe, just because you are in the service of our country, doesn't mean you know beans about guns.

I knew a lot, because my dad demanded me practice muzzle control and I got my first 12 gauge at 14 years of age. On one instance a few years earlier, a double barrel shotgun malfunctioned and blasted both shot shells when I closed the breach. My brother Gordon was standing to my right and if I would have carelessly closed the gun without paying attention to where the muzzle was pointed, I would have killed him that day in the woods. It was a real life lesson that to this day comes to mind when I handle a firearm.

The 4 of us piled into my longtime Pineville, La friend Mark Lacroix's car and off we went, driving about 20 miles west of Great Falls. Now out there, you could fire a 7 Mag at a 45 degree angle and it wouldn't hit anything for as far as you could see. That particular rifle has the ability to shoot a bullet about 4.5 miles. There is a reason its called the Great Plains. Let me stress that we did not ride out there with loaded guns. We were driving along and I was in what is called the shotgun position, which means I am not driving, but by the window to the right of the driver and every so often I would spot a covey of quail, or grouse, or partridge hunkered down in the tall grass by the fence row. I would holler to stop and initially we jumped out and loaded the guns.

 The straw grass was tall by the fence, but only about a foot tall for as far as the eye could see. We would walk that fence line and not see a single bird, until I was accused of hallucinating. This happened about 10 times before rounding a bend in the road, we looked up a long swell of land and there must have been 30 pheasants spread out. The second we stopped and got out, they ducked into the foot high straw. We spread out about 50 paces each and slowly walked the 300 yards to the top of the hill and never saw or kicked up a single bird.

Now let me tell you something about upland game and pheasants in particular. They will wait until you almost step on them before they jump straight up in the air and fly off like an F-16. I guess it's possible for a skilled hunter to get a second shot, but most of us get one or none before they are out of range. On top of that, they scare the bejeebers out of you by making this bizarre noise. Again let me stress that we worked out a field of fire before we began because hunters shoot each other chasing flying birds.

We went home safe, but without a single bird. There is an excellent explanation for our failure. We did not know the golden rule of upland game hunting. You don't do it without trained hunting dogs. Our well thought-out plan lacked the necessary ingredient to make us successful. Now on the bright side, we did get a very close look at a red fox, which by the way is orange in color. Our venture was doomed to fail and all because we didn't do enough homework.

Isn't this the reason so many things we attempt fail? We just go at them helter skelter, like a dad trying to put together a 142 piece toy and only resorting to the instructions after a frustrating hour or more. Going through life, we encounter many opportunities which if we simply took the time to make a good plan, we could overcome, or successfully complete. So how many times do we have to fail before we get the hint? One plan every person should have is a whole life insurance policy on your kids. It is so cheap, anyone can afford it. This is one plan, you cannot afford to bungle.

As I write this column, I am speaking to myself. How many things could we do anything right the first time, if we would have simply thought it through and developed a plan? The good news is its not too late to begin.

That one moment you never forget

I love the movie "Hitch" and I've watched it probably too many times.  I love the message that we should live life to the fullest. Sure, its a cliché we've all heard in twenty variations, but that doesn't mean we understand or get it. Take time to smell the roses.  Most of us know that one and we still don't do it, because we don't comprehend how incredible and fabulous living like this can be.

I listened to my bride tell me something the other day and I don't think it was anything earth shaking, but I looked at her face and how animated she was and I stopped her and told her how much I love her. Yea, I was right where I wanted to be. I had a deep understanding of just how important she is to me and how fortunate I am to have her in my life.

Years ago, a few Airmen and I were camping in the mountains of Montana. There was a lone bald peak not too far from our tents and I told them I was going to climb it. "Why?" they all echoed. "I want to experience it," was my reply and one by one they rose and we made the steep climb. As we sat at the top and looked around, we shared that experience and were in no hurry to leave. Now 40 years later I can revisit that peak because I absorbed it.

Do you ever wonder why people take vacations and cruises but never talk about them afterward? I wonder if they slowed down enough to let it soak into the fabric of their being? If you ask them, they will swear they did and maybe tell you how they swam with great white sharks or zip-lined through an active volcano and then they fall silent or change the subject. Did they truly experience that moment, or was it just another cheap thrill and a check mark on their bucket list? Truly amazing moments often happen in truly unamazing places and you never forget them. Make a note I am excluding tragedy from this line of thought.

I was in Midtown instructing an 0530 spin class and we were cycling in a near dark spin room, crowded with stationary bikes and sweating people. Believe it or not, I am often down there at Elgin and Louisiana, as they need instructors and I leave Baytown at 0420 to get there and get set up for class. Most all of these people work in offices and will leave the gym and go to work. Me? I am living and doing exactly what I want at that moment. I love it.

I often adjure them to be selfish with their hour of exertion. "Don't go to work in your head before your body has to. This is your hour to be selfish. You are not going to change a thing over there right now. You are here because there is no other place you want to be, so don't mentally leave. forget the TPS reports, your bills, the kids, forget everything but this bike and the mountain trail you are riding. Right now its just you, your body, and this bike," and then I tell them a corny joke. I often explain that their body will tell them to stop, but all they need to do is live in the moment and like one man told me after a class, "I've been spinning for 6 years and that was the hardest class I've ever been in."

I laughed because I didn't push him that hard - he somehow plugged in and pushed himself to new level and that should be our goal. Do we have to water ski behind a 900 foot ocean liner or wrestle a 26 foot long Nile croc to have an awakening?  Of course not. This moment will come at a most unexpected time of revelation. It may take place in a parking lot when you see a cloud formation, or talk to a lady in a supermarket. For that instant you realize why you are here and looking around you decide there is no place on earth like the one you are experiencing. You are living in the moment.

I stand in my driveway at night and look at the planet Venus and little red Mars and then the moon and I am as happy as a chimp with a banana. I know my bride is not interested in the view, but I am seeing the collective of millions of stargazers and I feel their connection. My Chinese Holly tree's berries are feeding the migrating cedar wax-wing birds and I can feel a satisfaction that stays with me all day and all I have to do is take time to watch them.

Living in the moment is far more than a tag line from a movie. It is a realization that there is no place on earth better than the one you are experiencing right now.

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Brrrr to me is not Grrrreat!

When I came into existence we lived in what is now frigid Michigan and the nearest hospital was in northern Ohio, so the city of Toledo got to witness my entrance. It was the beginning of summer and sunny and to this day, that is how I prefer my weather.

In the past we have enjoyed two months of near-perfect weather; October and April. Our usual rain or high humidly has been negated by dry air from the north and facilitates outdoor activity unmatched the rest of the year. This year it didn’t play out like that and last year wasn’t much of a match either. This brings us around to the recent 38ish cool front and my intolerance for cold temperatures.

I have been cold a good number of times in my life and quite frankly, experienced life threatening plunges in my body temperature. Sounds melodramatic doesn’t it, but I’m not exaggerating. To those of us who have never experienced the inability to maintain our 98.6 degree body temperature, it is extremely painful and even worse when you try to warm back up. You will literally cry from the pain. This condition becomes life-threatening when your inner body goes below 95 degrees. On the other end of the scale, being hot is simply uncomfortable and like you, I have experienced my fair share of that.

My three brothers and I ice skated with our backs to the wind up the Little Raisin river in the early 60’s until we were miles from home. We skated so far that we ran out of river and when we tried to turn back, the wind was too fierce. We were frozen and disoriented and crying. We finally abandoned the sliver of iced-over river and got up on the farm road where a passing motorist loaded the four of us and drove for about 30 minutes to get us home.

My mom, having no idea where we got off too, was too relieved to be angry, but wisely ran a tub of tepid water and began the process of thawing us out. Now before you judge her, understand that back in those days, farm kids played outdoors all day unsupervised and only came home to eat. The water felt scalding hot and we suffered through the process of getting our body temperatures back to normal.

Roll forward a few years and this was repeated when we lived in Morgan, Utah and the temp dropped below zero while we went off owl hunting with a neighbor boy. I vividly remember screaming in pain and crying as I thawed out. I also remember how angry my mom was at that neighbor boy. Another thing to note is that any kid growing up in snow country can tell their own horror stories about being cold.

Moving back to Ohio, the 4 of us skated far out on the frozen Ottawa River and once again the wind blew us so far away that my third brother just gave up and lay down on the ice to die. Again this sounds melodramatic, but I assure you under those conditions of hypothermia, you do not think straight. My other brothers and I struggled with him to get to shore and then walked in our skates the 5 blocks to our street with our skates on.  We were too cold to change into our shoes and the painful warming up process was repeated.

While serving in the US Air Force in Great Falls, Montana I was subjected to 5 twelve-hour nights of shoveling snow around the missile silos under the night sky, only to repeat it one day after returning. Understand that there are no trees to stop the constant wind on the Great Plains. We were under blizzard conditions and the fear of a sudden thaw meant water could drain down around the hundreds of Intercontinental Missiles and possibly flood them.  The decision was made to load up airmen and give them snow shovels and remove the snow that had drifted around the giant cement pads that covered each and every missile silo. Each pad covered 1 missile and each pad was miles from the next.

Now I had seen the map on the commanding General’s office wall and there were about 1500 Minuteman missiles under his command and by golly, I think we got every one of them. Initially we flew out in the middle of the night in helicopters and were dropped off on the Great Plains and it was so cold, we all thought we would die before morning. We would dig one out and low and behold, a stake bed deuce and a half truck would roll up and load us like cattle to drive to another silo. We were shoulder to shoulder in the back of that freezing open air truck bed only to dismount and dig out another.

My geocaching/kayaking friends make fun of me when I don’t want to go out on the water if the temp drops below 70 degrees, but I simply do not like being cold.  I have been elk hunting and fallen asleep in my mummy bag, only to awaken and the entire sleeping bag would be under an inch of snow. The goose down inside the bag kept me fairly warm, but that is one sight I don’t care to see again.

The word is that this Christmas, our temperature will be around 70 degrees and most likely sunny and I couldn’t be happier.  I think it was right after Christmas in 1976 that 2 of my 3 brothers and I worked a shutdown in Pasadena and it was 14 degrees. I would have burned a Yule log for warmth if I could have. Merry Christmas my friends, remember the reason for the season, and stay toasty and comfy.
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It is so hot outside…

 “It's so hot; farmers are feeding their chickens crushed ice to keep them from laying hard-boiled eggs!”

I looked at the thermometer on my patio, which incidentally is in the shade, and it read 100 degrees. The thought hit me that if I were to light a fire, I might actually cool off.  That’s when I realized I was unbearably hot and not exactly thinking straight.

I love sunshine; I really do. In fact I thrive on it, but can’t we get it without the waffle iron? I remember an old Beetle Bailey cartoon where the colonel paid a visit to the mess hall and asked the cook (Cookie) why he wasn’t in full uniform. Cookie replied that it was too hot to wear all those clothes. The colonel in his wisdom had no choice but to order an investigation into the actual temperature.

The next frame showed the old sergeant cooking in the buff. That’s the way it is here. It is so hot; I can’t seem to get cool when I am outside. We thank the Lawd for air conditioning and curse the de-bil if we lose power. We are slaves to A/C and make no apology.

I’ve witnessed people out walking on the trail system behind my house wearing a plastic suit or a lot of clothing. They are operating in a pre-1980 mentality that they need to sweat to lose weight. Well, here is a PSA (public service announcement). Don’t do this! You will stress your heart to a ridiculous level.

Instead, carry a bottle of water and wear wicking material to allow your skin to breathe and get rid of moisture. When wearing “sweats” all you do is elevate your blood pressure and endanger yourself. You will gain back whatever you lost when you gulp down the water you will ultimately crave.

“It was so hot that corn popped in the field and the mules saw it and thought it was snow. 14 dropped dead from hypothermia!”

Too much heat real or imagined is not good, but I’ll take it over freezing any day.  Two winters in Montana taught me that. Being hot is uncomfortable. Being cold is painful. I went straight from Great Falls, Montana to Southeast Asia in 1972. From freezing weather to tropic heat closer to the equator. One word can describe both extremes: brutal.

It was hot there, but not really any hotter than we are experiencing right now.  It is dangerously hot right now.  Just this week I rode my bike down Blue Heron Parkway and into Jenkins Park to do maintenance on the many geocaches I own there. Even on the bike, I was totally soaked by the time I return 2 hours later. I imagine I lost two pounds of water weight in that 2 hours and I was riding most of the time.

“It is so hot, the local fire hydrant was asking dogs for a visit.”

If you have an inground pool, the sun is sucking an inch of water out of it a day. There is no telling what it is doing to our skin. I imagine it is radiantly cooking us. The good news is we are almost into August and maybe 3 weeks away from when it doesn’t beat down on us so hard. It’s bizarre in that suddenly it won’t feel as oppressive. It’ll be the same sun, but it just won’t have that blow torch scorching feel.

By the time we make it into delightful October, we will experience one of the two times a year that we have wonderfully pleasant weather and that is right around the blessed corner.

“It is so hot; I put crimson charcoal briquettes in my ice tea to chill it down.”

Like it or not, we never get used to it and this question has been raised a million times by travelers visiting the area. That welcoming smell at the airport is indeed mildew – get used to it! I guess the answer to it all if you must venture outside is to hydrate and stay in the shade as much as possible. My sweaty visor cap is off to garbage collectors, roofers, lawn care folks, and the Parks department workers who labor in it all day.

Now, where’s my sweet tea?

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Oh Mr. Blues, please go away

About 20 years ago, I self-diagnosed a condition caused by the lack of exposure to the sun.  I had no idea there was an actual name for it.  All I knew was when the sun didn’t brighten my eyes for a couple of days; everything took on a dull and gray appearance reflected in my attitude.

Way back in 1971 when I was stationed in Great Falls, Montana and serving the US Air Force, I went through two long winters.  That is when I first noticed this gloomy condition called S.A.D. now known as seasonal affective disorder and then the real kicker came; it usually affects women.  Can’t I get a break here?

With the continued absence of warm rays, I become sullen and unproductive.  All it takes to snap me back is for a bright ray of sunshine to poke through the clouds and I am instantly cheerful.  Simply knowing that the sun is out is enough to make me happy and I love to go out in the heat of the day and exercise.  “Good day sunshine!”

“I need to laugh and when the sun is out
I've got something I can laugh about
I feel good in a special way
I'm in love and it's a sunny day”

There are other triggers that boost my mental well being though, thank goodness.  The good Lord knows a warm church service can boost my spirit and it does.  We have an aspiring young minister named Tuan who delivered the message this past Sunday that is still bouncing around inside me.

About a week ago, right in the middle of some grayness, Mr. and Mrs. V of KPFT’s radio program “Blues on the move” came by the house.  They are a delightful couple to visit with and my friend Buddy “Love” Brewer recommended I repair their computer and I did.  That was a bright light in a dull week.  Mrs. V has a very infectious laugh.

The gym named after the clock remains my mainstay to fight the blues though.  Karate, running, and general exercise has always been a big part in my mental health.  If you believe you are too old to start working out, let me say this about senior citizens and the gym.  In the morning, it is quite possible that the bulk of the people there are over 40 and some near 80 or older.  Yea, that’s right.  Old people exercising to keep what they got.

It is a myth that you can go through life pain free and when you get old, you will suddenly rein in and die.  The truth is, you begin getting painful signals early on and they just get worse until you need surgery and a ton of pain meds.  Exercise does more than build muscle.  It gets the blood flowing.  It increases your lung capacity and if you do load bearing exercise, it thwarts osteoporosis.

All those years I put in at the Plant didn’t stop me from losing one inch of height and when I discovered I was no longer 5-11, I knew I must begin lifting weights or continue to lose bone mass.

“We take a walk, the sun is shining down
Burns my feet as they touch the ground”

Aside from the fact that the exercise releases a hormone akin to an opiate to stave off pain, there is an actual gym culture or mentality amongst the exercisers.  One of the best known people who visit there is a sunshine fellow named Joe.  Everyone knows Joe and Joe knows them.  Joe’s my friend and I jokingly tell him he needs at minimum a 3 hour workout just so he can make his rounds.  It’s actually true though.

One of my favorite people to talk to is a retired educator named Al.  Al’s a most interesting man and up in years.  Al comes in using a 4-footed cane and usually hits the stationary bike before using the resistance machines.  I dearly love chatting with him and like Joe, a ray of sunshine to me.

I get tips on working out from Michelle, who I call Michelle Fitness.  Her fitness blog is here: http://michellecfitness.com/  I do believe she is one of the strongest people in that gym and I’ve seen her lift weight most men wouldn’t attempt.  As I’ve said before, don’t joke about women being the weaker sex, especially at the gym.  You will just let everyone know you are either ignorant, bigoted, or a jerk, or maybe all three.

The biggest mood booster I do every week, regardless of rain or shine is the Spin class.  It is 45 minutes of stationary cycling and burns 600-800 calories. Throw in the 15 minute pre-cycle we do to get ready to stand on the pedals or sprint and you have one plus hour of heavy cycling.  Must I say it is about 95% female dominated?  Most men take one look at the class, shake their head, and say, “Heck no!”

The subsequent effect of this exhausting exercise is a feeling of well-being that lasts the rest of the day.  Our instructor‘s name is Page and she is a drill sergeant with a smile and a pixie haircut.  When two people left the class early this past Wednesday, I jokingly told her she had killed them off.

S.A.D. affects a lot of men and women and there are things we can turn to, to relieve the symptoms besides over-eating, which all of us do time to time.  When it comes to the Blues, the only ones I want in my life are the type that come from Mr. and Mrs. V’s radio program.

* Lyrics Good Day Sunshine – The Beatles
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Cold weather? No thanks.

I remember almost freezing to death as a teenager deer hunting in North Georgia.  I was about 15 and I went with my dad and our church’s pastor.  I was good to go the night before, but when the alarm went off at the very ungodly hour of 5am, I tried to talk dad out of taking me.  Nope.  Dad was going to take me dead or alive.  It came dangerously close to the former before 10am

Now I was no stranger to being cold.  I lived in Michigan and Ohio as a kid and it gets as cold as a mother in law’s love in them parts, trust me.  One winter in Hillsdale, Michigan, my dad made an actual igloo out of blocks of snow that stayed for much of the winter.  Our German Sheppard slept on a blanket in it at night.

In Dundee, Michigan, my 3 brothers and I made a near tragic mistake of skating up the Little Raisin, as the wind was at our backs and four hours later, unable to fight the wind to get back, we stepped out on the road about 10 miles from home.  We were near frozen solid and a good Samaritan brought us home.

In 1965, the “Marshall boys”, as we were known, skated out and across the great Ottawa river in Toledo, Ohio.  TJ, brother number 3 got so hypothermic that he lay down on the ice and refused to move.   We were all so cold, we knew that to lay down was to die and somehow we made it back to shore, dragging TJ and crying, walked the 11 blocks, on skates, back to our house.

When I was about 10 or so, my brothers and I followed a teenage boy far out in the woods in Morgan, Utah and came back near death and I say that without exaggeration, as it was about 10 degrees.  The 60 degree water in the tub felt like boiling water.  Now, before you judge my parents, let me say that back in the 1960’s kids were a heartier bunch and the times were different.  Kids spent hours unsupervised out of doors.

For every time something bad happened, fifteens of hundreds of other times, we pulled it off.  Sometimes we didn’t.  My brothers and I spent a lot of time on adventures in the woods and would venture out 4 or 5 miles at a time. I remember squirrel hunting by myself with my shotgun in Georgia 4 miles from home, more than once and I was only 15.

The 2 years I spent in the Strategic Air Command at Malmstrom Air Force base, in Great Falls, Montana was the icicle that broke the polar bear’s back though.  As Louis L’Amour put it in one of his great novels about an American Indian in Siberia, “I haven’t felt cold like this since I was in Montana”.

In the winter in Montana, the sun comes up on the horizon, goes up about a foot, and sets a short time later on the horizon. I hated it.  The wind blows non-stop and even in summer, you have to wear a jacket when the weak sun sets.  To put it in perspective, when I was there in 1971, it snowed on the 4^th of July.

To get back on my Georgia deer hunting occurrence, I wasn’t experienced with sitting on a ground stand in sub-freezing weather, so I did not dress for it.  Instead, I had an orange plastic-type suit that I drew over my jacket and jeans.  It was uncomfortably hot in the car and when dad asked if I had on enough to keep warm, I nodded a sleepy yes.

I slept all the way there in fact and when we got out, I donned the suit.  It was toasty.  I loaded the 16 gauge shotgun with number one buckshot and walked off to find a place to hunt.  There was no such thing as a lease back then and on government land, first come first served.  It was bitterly cold and I did not have gloves and I laid the gun in the crook of my arm and tried to keep warm as the wind picked up.  Each minute that passed, I grew colder.

The weak winter sun finally arrived and I was shaking violently.  I was just an hour into it and I was so cold, all I could think about was how cold I was.  As a son of the generation which fought World War II, I didn’t dare to interrupt our hunt though and besides that, I had no idea where my dad was or our pastor.  By 10am or so, I was beyond caring and stumbling to my feet, I headed back to the car.  Snow was falling and the wind began to abate, but I was so stiff, movement was difficult.  All I wanted to do was get in the car… but it was locked.  I began to cry.

I had reached the place where I was out of options and I did everything in my power, to get the safety off, so I could fire 3 warning shots, which I finally did with frozen unfeeling digits.  I waited what I felt like was a long time and fired 3 more.  This brought both my dad and my pastor and immediately seeing the sad shape I was in, they quickly loaded me up for an emergency trip home.

I just know I disappointed my dad, but he never said anything to confirm it.  What I got out of it was I never want to be that cold again, or disappoint dad.  Unlike being too hot, being too cold is a very painful thing.  Being too hot is uncomfortable.  Thawing out from hypothermia can kill a person.  With all these swings in temperature we are experiencing these days, bundle up.  Take a good hot shower.  Put a coat on.  Stay warm and thank the Good Lord above for the shelter we often take for granted.

The Ghosts of Christmas Past

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A modern day Air Force TI

I remember my first Christmas away from home.  I was 18 years old and the year was 1970.   I spent the Christmas holidays sequestered in an Air Force Basic Training barracks at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio shining my boots.

With me were 57 other airman.  We were no longer considered new troops, as we had been in training about a month.  At the time and it may be this way still, new recruits were called Rainbows.

“Rainbow, Rainbow, don’t be blue
Your TI was a Rainbow too!”

I made the terrible decision to join the Air Force at the end of November, which meant I would be in Basic Training over the Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years’ holidays effectively extending my time there by two full weeks.  My “Flight” had been in training long enough that our TI’s (Chief Military Training Instructors) left us to enjoy Christmas with their families and we spent the four day holiday cleaning our equipment, the barracks, and shining our boots.  I thought it was a rough deal and a lonely time and like the other recruits there, we passed the holidays in near silence.

One year later and one short visit home, I was stationed at Malmstrom Air Force Base in the Strategic Air Command way up in icy cold central Montana.  It is a Minuteman Missile base and when Christmas rolled around, I drew the short straw and couldn’t fly home for the holidays.  Airfare, flying military stand-by, was a whopping $65 one way and who could afford that on Airman’s pay anyway?

Due to the holidays, the base was being manned by a skeleton crew, except for the missile launch crews and seeing that I worked at a Forward Supply Point in the Missile hanger, I was deemed essential.  I remember walking in the snow to the Chow Hall on Christmas day 1971.  It was so cold and dark that I felt like the world had abandoned me.  I was 19 years old and by the standards of those days, a man and my dad taught me to “suck it up”, but that didn’t stop me from feeling alone up in the Big Sky country that day.

Stepping into the Chow Hall, I was surprised to have a server place a pair of stuffed pork chops on my plate.  They were two inches thick and cooked to perfection.  I had never seen such and to this day, remember that meal; far from home that only a few of us special people were served.  A few months passed and I was told I had received orders and I reported to Base Operations to get them and seeing I had this specialty training in Supply, I was told I needed to process out immediately to go to APO 96337.  I had no idea what these numbers meant and was told to cross reference them on a chart, which I did.
 
Back at the barracks, I approached a veteran sergeant who I trusted.  “Where is Danang AFB?” He laughed knowingly and told me it was “Rocket City, Vietnam.”  I wanted to cry and finally did when I called home that night when talking to my mother.

It was early 1972 and the war was “deescalating” but almost 2400 of our military perished in Vietnam in 1971 and this was nothing to take lightly.  I listened to my peers as they talked about running truck convoys from depot to base armed to the teeth and rockets landing at random in the warehouses and if I said I felt brave, I would be lying.  My orders meant I was going into harm's way.

Providence stepped in and once again, my specialty prevailed.  Instead of going to package up the departing 366th Gunfighters squadron, I was sent ahead to Central Thailand to help set up the Forward Supply Point there.  I spent 21 and a half months there, working 12-hour shifts in the jungle heat.  I remember both Christmas’ and accepted the fact that being a G.I. meant you could not be with your family at special times like this.

Segue to the December 2013 holidays and here I am once again at work.  Since I left home to join the war effort in 1970, I’ve either been away from my family or worked 37 of the 43 Christmas holidays.  Am I whining, complaining, or lonely?  No.  I’ve accepted it.  Has it made a Scrooge out of me?  Maybe.  Do I still remember the true meaning and spirit of celebrating the coming of the Christ child?  Sure, of course, but the thrill of gift giving and festivities isn’t there.  It died a slow death a long time ago.

Sadly, for me it’s for the most part, nothing more than overtime or holiday pay.  It’s mammon to pay for the stuff we’ve bought and fodder for upcoming taxes and that is the real shame of it. 
I want my Christmas ghosts to give me back what I lost.  I want what they took from me.  I want to be a kid again, excitedly opening my eyes after a near sleepless night and rush down to a bright tree full of presents.  I want to eat until I'm sick and then eat more.

The reason I write this is I'm not the Lone Ranger on missing the Christmas holidays and certainly not for pity or sympathy.  Nope.  All around the world this holiday season are thousands of sons and daughters, mothers and fathers working in far away countries defending our way of life and they can’t come home.  Say a prayer for them.  Right here in Baytown, we have many men and women working in the chemical plants and refinery’s doing the same thing as I have all these years.

Our restaurant workers, fire fighters, medical professionals, and police officers are working overtime and swing shifts and will miss the Christmas holidays also.  The fellow at the convenience store told me that if I needed something on Christmas day, they would be open and he will spend the day behind the counter talking to strangers and away from his family.

My point in all of this is, if you can be with your family on these special days, take a moment to cherish it.  Enjoy how fortunate you are.  Hug those around you and tell them you love them.  Merry Christmas to my fellow Baytownians and Happy New Year to you too.  Something tells me I am going to spend Christmas 2014 with my Bride and family and it’s going to be a terrific year.  See you in 2014!
 
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