This will be the entry that I actually write about my thoughts, happenings, pizza. Because I am going to start posting a story I wrote, in other entries. So here goes.

I know now, that when you start writing, after a while there is so much stuff you are thinking about and wanting to put down, you don't know where to start. I always envied those people who can do everything in order, chronically, etc. Me, I like tangents, because you never know how you are going to get there.

I used to love to drive around when I was younger and explore different roads that I had never been on, just to see where they led. I knew so many different routes from the farm to anywhere I wanted to go. I'd take off on a Sunday afternoon, have the music on, sunlight coming through the windows and the sunroof, and just feeling good. Truly a carefree time. I miss my first car. It was a 1979 Buick Skyhawk, with a Roadhawk package. Front and rear spoilers, a sunroof, bucket seats, hatch-back and an 8-track player!

I got it the summer of my 16th year. I was driving around in the families Chevy Nova, and I don't think Dad wanted to give it up. Also, I had been doing great at Kemper, so he felt I earned it.

When I saw it, it was one of those 'love at first site' moments (see the picture at top). I was never big on cars. And the only ones I had been exposed to were the few teenagers around Glasgow, or some of the guys at Kemper. Our Corps Commander my first year had a white Trans-Am. I was once up in D barracks and looked out the window toward the parade field/football field. I saw his car starting to come back, he was obviously going faster than he should, but it looked so cool. I remember that as if it was yesterday.

I also remember another friends car there; Conner's had a red 240Z. He had parked once near the barracks on a Saturday night and was talking on the CB. Before cell phones and the Internet, CB airwaves were just as good and free.

So you can see, I was limited on what I had been exposed too in the way of vehicles. I also knew nothing about internal combustion engines or how a car worked, or for that matter, really up keep. I still know nothing about cars except basic upkeep and care/maintenance. My ex was aghast at that and couldn't believe it. I told her at the time I was more interested in weapons, could break-down and re-assemble an M-16 in under two minutes, could lay out an ambush, fields of fire, could do basic first aid, do a recon report and knew how to set up a claymore. She was unimpressed. I guess it all depends on what people find important.

I made the comment to my friend George about what she had said. He said he didn't know that much either, and as far as I was concerned, while I may not know anything, but if someone was working on my car, I would be right there, trying to help or trying to learn. George has always been the one person, while practical jokes aside, when it comes to serious stuff, I take to heart. Because the ex did do a number on my head for a while.

It took a few years to shake out the crap she told me about myself, and get it out of my system. I have mentioned that people who are closet to you can really screw with your mind if they ever fall out of love with you. That's the one thing that I can count on with the guys from Kemper. We can't get rid of each other. Not through action or deed or divorce. We know most of their younger, dirty little secrets as they know ours. The only thing that will get rid of us, is death. And even though gone, they are never far from our thoughts.

But back to my first car, (see, tangents). When I told my dad, this is the one I wanted, he said, "It has bucket seats in the back." I said yeah, so what? He never said anything. I never understood that comment, until I tried to get into the backseat WITH someone. I then understood. Luckily those seats folded down, like I said, hatchback. So I kept a sleeping bag spread out when I had the seats down. I could lay back their and listen to music and watch the stars through the big back window, or raise the back and watch that way.

I remember when my friend convinced me to get rid of that 8-track and put in a cassette deck and new speakers. he said he would even install them for me. I never thought twice, UNTIL he jammed a knife into the plastic section of the doors, where the new speakers would be placed. I was worried then that maybe he had over-estimated his abilities. I shouldn't have worried. Again, while a lot of my Kemper guys may stretch things with everyone else; with each other we are always straight with. We may over-estimate our abilities, but we would never hurt one of our own by misrepresenting ourselves.

That's why, another friend, "Luscious" plays around with what alphabet agency he was with while in Washington. He once made the comment after I had said to him, "We all thought you were with the CIA." He laughed over the phone and said, "Well, I don't do that any more." While I still say he would have made the perfect spy, and a lot of the things he has said still makes me believe he did things, I have never asked him directly. See, if he was instructed or signed off or did whatever he was suppose to do by never revealing what he did or who he worked for, by me asking him directly, would put him in a position. By playing around and around, he always has plausible deniablility. And he would never lie to one of his own. I know this. That's why, as fun as it is to pull his chain, I would never put him in a position with a direct question, looking for a direct answer.

In closing, our W.o.W words of wisdom: To get what you want (gold) you do have to work for it (profession).

Day 6 - Coffee, coffee everywhere....

When I was at Kemper, the year before I graduated from junior college there, the big thing was to have a coffee maker in your room. Now this seems like a small thing in the grand scheme, but you must remember that a) this was a military school and b) this was 1982. Military schools have rules and regulations. And the coffee maker at the time was still a new toy. But I had the rank as an officer and I loved new gadgets. Besides, over coffee it was great to sit and talk with others or have a cup while you studied late at night or have one early in the morning. I almost got used to drinking it without cream or sugar, as this was before any good sugar substitutes and artificial creamers came on the market.

I remember one time, I drank two pots of coffee in the afternoon, before band practice. During rehearsal I was jamming on the tuba; I mean, sweat was pouring off me, and the band director commented on how I was doing. It wasn't until later that I understood that was from the coffee.

Kemper at the time ran like a real army base; and the cadets ran it 98% of it. The reason was they were instilling leadership in us, and a lot of the "2 year wonders" were getting their commission. We called the commissioning cadets, who were only there for the two years of junior college that, verses ones who had been there longer; like me and some others. We got that term from when the Army would commission 2nd lieutenants in 90 days-(90 day wonders). I am proud to say though, that a lot of those guys are now full bird colonels and we even have one who just got his first star (brigadier general). At the time, we may not have thought too much about them. But now; I think those men and women who I was lucky enough to know are some of the best leaders; looking at their uniforms and their resumes proves that. Being around them is truly a humbling experience.

This next part is a little more adult, so be warned. Let me inject some humor from those times about some of those guys. While I was at Kemper, my last year, the cadet Command Sergeant Major and I both had our rooms at the end of the hall, we had similar schedules so we tended to hangout together. We also sat at the same place during the messes (meals) so we became good friends. This man, who eventually went onto become the cadet Corps Commander the following year, get his commission in the Army and from what I understand is a fine Tulsa police officer-to combat the boredom at times; (and let me add, you had to work at being bored as there was always something going on, someone you could talk with or something to do. And I don't mean watch TV or play on that new thing, a computer) he worked up a list of the ways to say you were "self pleasuring"; like, walking the dog, shinning the helmet, etc. I think he had about 35 saying when I left. I was talking to him a few years ago and brought that up to see if he still had the list and what the count was. Of course he didn't remember it until I reminded him.

As I said, its amazing what you remember; but as I also mentioned, this was a time that will be forever burned into me, into my soul. The good and the bad. I could no more forget those days than I could forget to breathe. If there ever comes a time that I do start to forget, and Alzheimer's is always a possibility, then I know that my time is near. Because forgetting them, forgetting those men and women-some who have already gone ahead and reconned the next life, would mean I was in Hell.

The one thing that I never want to do is to forget those people who went to Kemper. Be they with me, before or after me. They are a part of the Kemper family. How can I explain it....there is some lines in our Standard of Honor ceremony. This is where, after one year at Kemper, without any honor violations (not lying, cheating or stealing) you are eligible to sign the Standard of Honor. It talks about those who signed, that some may not reach the heights of business or the high ranks of the military, but those who would also toil. I feel that, by attending Kemper, they did achieve something great. I know, it might seem like I am looking at things through rose colored glasses, but I know that the most important thing I ever did in this life was to go there.

How, you may ask, do I know this?

Simple. I have been able to do more things and know more people because of Kemper, than anything else. I know that I have survived two divorces (Kemper curse) and other things that people are amazed that I have made it through, because of my experiences at Kemper, or through the friends I have made from there. One friend mentioned that he was amazed that I made it through some of the things that had happened in my life. I smiled and said I didn't have a choice. To quit was something that wasn't an option.

In closing, our W.o.W moment: to fail is always an option, but how you handle it (either going back to your corpse or taking the hit and being resurrected at the graveyard) is whats important.

And my picture for the day, is a self portrait I call The Russian Bear. When people ask me where I got the hat, I tell them I traded a Russian guard at Check Point Charlie in Germany, some blue jeans when I was there in 1981. Most people look at me like they have no idea what I am talking about. My how the Cold War has been forgotten.

LOL.

Actually I got it from my ex-wife. And she got it from Wal-Mart, probably as a joke. I know, something from the ex-. But I don't care, I love it! It's warm and I even found a pin with a picture of Stalin on it. Every time I wear it, I want to start speaking with a Russian accent.

До свидания (do svidaniya ) Good bye

Day 5 - Kemper Explained

Someone asked me what was Kemper in my previous posts. For those of you who don't really know me (an you know who you are) Kemper refers to: Kemper Military School & College, Boonville, Missouri. It was the oldest military west of the Mississippi, before it closed in 2002. I attended there from 1977-1983, getting my high school and junior college A.A. degree from there. Also, 99.8% of my close friends are from there. I was the third generation to have attended; my father and grandfather also went there. So when I mention that, it was a very big part of my life. I have very distinct and clear memories of my time there. And when it closed, yeah it hurt. I could write a book about my time there, and I have thought about it. It would be at least 2 books, and I could title them "New Boy" for my first year there. And then "Old Boy" for all the other years there. I would make them fiction, as I could fill them up easier-not to mention that no one would believe me, and also the possible law suits if I actually mentioned real names.

I remember the movie "Taps". They wanted to make it at Kemper, but our president turned them down because, "It portrayed the military school student as a radical." The funny thing was that after that movie, they took away the armory we had. I know that, had what happened in the movie, happened at Kemper, we might have done that. The school meant that much to us. I saw that movie with the head of our admissions at the time. And when Tim Hutton got his promotion to cadet major, this full bird nudged me; as I had just recently got promoted to major myself. I also remember the "Lord of Discipline." The funny thing about that movie was the book, The Decline of the West, that he was using to pass notes. A teacher, Mrs. Roberts gave me a list of books. I had asked for one, from her, on the books I should read. She was the kind of teacher whose opinion you valued and since I am a reader, thought this was a good thing. Anyway, Decline was on her list; and I always thought it was ironic that it was in the movie.

Curses to my friend Amber. First she gets me hooked on W.o.w. and then, on Facebook when they flash different things that your friends are into, she was the only one to have this online series called "The Guild." I clicked on it, and.... omg. LOL. Its as good as The Big Bang Theory. That has so many "I know people like that" and "I have had discussions like that" its unbelievable.

And now our W.o.w. moment comes from The Guild with this quote: "....its so much easier to measure life in experience points." Trust me when I say, I heard this, or something similar a long time ago playing Dungeons and Dragons. Yeah, I am that kind of guy. Actually, what kind of guy I am is difficult to describe. I don't fit in just one pigeon hole. I like being the square peg in a round hole, the round peg in a triangle hole, the polyhedron dice in the box with Schroedinger's cat....

Day 4, Sunday

Well, the day has ended and night is almost upon us. I love this time of day. Especially watching the jets and their contrails. There is something about them. My dad used to love watching the jets when we were on the farm. I know he was always thinking of where they were coming from and where they were headed. He instilled that in me, and I will always look and try and watch them until they are out of sight. Or look for their flashing lights.

I remember watching them when I was at Kemper. Especially at this time of the day. I can still recall the schedule of what went on when I was there; 30 years later.

Why do kids wear their baseball caps reversed? The reason you wear a cap, I thought was either, a) to use the bill to keep the sun, rain or whatever out of your face or b) to show support for whatever was on the front of the cap. The only time I reverse my cap is when I am riding my bike, and I don't want to loose to the wind. In fact, at Kemper, you would "roll" your bill to get that half moon style. I remember even using a rubber band to keep my fatigue cap from laying flat. Or wearing the cap kinda side wise. That's something else I don't understand.

Just had Hardees hamburger and I used McDonald's catchup on the fries. Wonder if the combo was significant or just convenient.

And lastly, the WoW moment: The only way you are going to advance is to travel outside your safety zone and see the world. Even though there are people out there that are different than you, does not mean they are bad.

Day 3 - Nice Weather Out

I was having lunch at my favorite Chinese restaurant and who should find me, but an old friend from Kemper. So we sat and ate and reminisced about people we knew and what was going on. After an hour and a half, we left, and he bought lunch! I thought that was awful nice of him.

Had a weird dream last night, and all I can say is that it had an "evil" Chief and a "good" Chief. Chief was our bandmaster at Kemper, and he was definitely good. But as I talked with him, I knew that he had passed, I made the comment that he had dark hair now. I remember seeing a picture of him in his younger day when he had hair and it was dark. Not real clear about the rest of the dream, but thought it was interesting enough to mention.

I also thought of something-All I needed to know I learned from playing World of Warcraft. I think the first thing would be:

We all start out the same, at the same level.

I am going to make this a regular part of my blog, and hopefully can think of other things. Yeah, I play WoW. So does millions and millions of people.

Suppose to be in the 50s today - Day 2

Well today its suppose to be in the 50s, and stay that way until Sunday, when it will drop to the 30s, so we shall see.
Cubicle, sweet cubicle. Yep, here is where its all done. I say that jokingly, but I AM the Classified Department for the Columbia Missourian. With the cost cutbacks and everything, it has come down to me. Its good and bad at times. I don't really take a vacation; oh I do a day off here and there, and found that I have to take the time or loose it.
And I have always loved the Sherlock Holmes's look. Organized in a way only he knows it. I had done that when I had the library at the farm. Also, I think, and I am probably the only one, that thinks this is what a newspaper's office/desk should look like. I know, coming from a military school, where inspection was a way of life; I also came to the realization that the saying, "No combat ready unit ever passed inspection" is true. When there is an inspection, I can clean it up and pass. But the day to day running, that's another story.
I am also getting a handle on my new coffee maker. I love Walgreen's. For $10 you can get a decent coffee maker. All I wanted was something that I could have at my desk so I could have coffee. Since I drank about a soda a day, sometimes two, it should pay for itself within the first week. Lets hope.
During the 1970's along the interstate, you could probably find a Nickerson's Farm. It was a franchise whose look was a steeply sharp roof painted red, good cooking, a atmosphere very similar to the Cracker Barrel and bees. They usually had a hive, enclosed in glass, and you could see the bees. They also sold the honey there. But now as I think about it, I wonder, did they take the bees out? They need flowers for pollination, so how did they do it? But I digress.
One of the things that, as a 10 year old found, were books. They were 8x11 and were very much like the Chicken Soup for the Soul. Written or edited by Dan Valentine. I was luckily enough to be able to get 3 of them. One of my favorite was "America Pleads Not Guilty."
There are works of writing that truly touch me, and when they do, I like to express to the author how much I appreciate their working of words to make me feel the way I do after reading what they have written. With the Internet and the almost instance ability to find anyone, I have not been able to find the author. I don't even know if that was his real name or a nom de plume. But no matter what his name, he did a great job. I want to re-work it some to fit today's timeline and numbers, but that's it. The sentiment and the ideology will remain.

America Pleads Not Guilty by Dan Valentine
In the turmoil of the times, Americans have been inoculated with a false feeling of guilt. Some would have us believe we have failed our dreams. They call us greedy, grasping, arrogant, meddlesome...
America Pleads Not Guilty.
Mobs stone our embassies...Americans are ridiculed in foreign lands...Dissenters at home defy our laws and make mockery of our freedom. We are called selfish, smug, self-satisfied, unfair. We are told to hang our heads in guilt and shame.
America Pleads not guilty.
They call us inhumane. But when disaster strikes anywhere in the world; flood, famine, hurricane or earthquake-we are the first to offer aid. Not just sympathy, but food, clothing, medicine, money...
They call us selfish. But each year Americans contribute billions to charity...most of it dimes and dollars from average citizens. They call us "Uncle Shylock." But what other nation in the history of the world fights and wins wars-then taxes itself to the breaking point to restore the war-torn lands of the enemies?
America Pleads Not Guilty.
Critics scoff at our New World ways. But in 200 years we have cleared a wilderness and have become the granary of the world and the arsenal of freedom. Cynics say we are crude and uncultured. But in 200 years we have built a nation of 175,000 schools....2,200 colleges and universities....1,000 symphony orchestras....100,000 libraries.........75,000 hospitals....and 250,000 churches. Two hundred years ago, children worked in the mines and were old at 14...criminals were dipped in vats of molten lead...citizens were chained in dungeons with no hope of a fair trial. Debtors were stripped of their freedom...No man's home was his castle. These are no more...thanks to the American Dream.
America Pleads Not Guilty.
They call us intolerant. But men of other colors and other faiths sit in our Senate and Congress, and rule from the highest judicial court in the land.
America Pleads Not Guilty.
There are 200 million Americans who have never owned a black slave, or any slave. They stem from a million ancestors who have never owned a black slave or any slave. There are 200 million Americans who have never started a war, or envied another man's land....they have never ransacked a nation, looted a stranger's home or forced any man to bow to a loser's yoke. There are 200 million Americans who have never scoffed at another's God...or defied his temples.
Thousands of American soldiers are buried in foreign soil-they died fighting so others could be free. Cynics and dissenters cry: "America is through, the dream is gone." They lie. Millions of Americans still live with their neighbors in peaces and harmony. Millions of Americans still live with the spirit of charity, with compassion in their hearts. Millions of Americans still pray, pay taxes, obey the law and govern themselves. Cynics, scoffers, critics, say what you will about us...
America Pleads Not Guilty.
This is my America. This is my United States. I am an American, and I plead not guilty.

New Year, Day 1, 2009

Ben Franklin said, “If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten, either write things worth reading, or do things worth the writing.” My dad said never write anything that you wouldn't be willing to say to someones face. In other words, whatever you write, you had better be prepared to answer for-that was how I took it. So, how do I want this blog to be? Serious? Funny? Made into a movie? A book? Yes to all of the above!

What I want, is to remember through words, things that happened to me, to the world and for anyone who doesn't know me, or who think they know me, to have a better understanding of me.

Words, stories and books have always taken me to lands far away. They have made me feel like that person I am reading about. I just want people to feel that way about what I write. My poetry seemed to do that. I always wrote from the heart; it was how I eased a breaking heart when I lost someone, who no longer felt for me. Funny though-after both my marriages (yes, I have been married twice) I never felt the need to write one. The first one was so much a shock, along with everything else that was going on, I didn't think about it, as I was doing my best to keep it together. After the second one, I was just numb, and felt more like I had failed. That ex really did a mind job on me. We were too much a like. When you are like that with a person, and they no longer care for you, that person knows exactly what to say to screw you up. It has taken me about four years to realize that she was talking as much about herself, I think than me. Was I all innocent? No. But neither was I all at fault. As my mother always said, it takes two to tango.

So, what this blog going to be? Who knows. Some entries I am sure people will like, and some may just say "ho hum." I also know I can not please everyone. In this case, I am only trying to please me.

With that out of the way, let me get to the topic of this day's blog.

Growing up on a farm, in another time in another place, when New Year's eve rolled around, and before I had my driver's license, mom and I would stay up until midnight, watching the celebration on one of the three tv channels, and then, with pots, pans and wooden spoons, make our own noise makers. Usually grandma and dad had already gone to bed, so we would wake them up with our banging. Simple pleasures. Like I said, another time.

As I got older, I wasn't at home for the eve. And older still I wasn't even in the state. I remember the best New Year's eve I ever had was when a friend got a suite at a hotel on Time Square for New Year's eve. This was pre 9/11, and I had a blast! That was the last time also, that I really partied. Luckily the block we were in, which was right in front of the hotel, wasn't too bad (one of the advantages of being a hotel guest). I drank champagne and others things from bottles passed around by people who were just having a good time, and who I never saw before and never would see again. I also remember a New Years in Savannah, Georgia with 2 friends from Mizzou. One of them hit it off with a girl at the bar we were at. And we got volunteered to help her move the day after New Years, because she had very nice legs, and convinced my friend to volunteer us.

Great memories of New Years eve if I do say so myself. There is so much more I could write, but don't want to go overboard, at least not this early on. I will close by wishing all a great new beginning for 2009.