8-tracks, WKRP In Cincinnati and fireflies

There are times I can be envious of the kids today. Internet, computers, cell phones that are more powerful than the space craft that took our astronauts to the moon. A billion channels on TV, more graphic, more CGI (less good writing and plot in my opinion) kids bodies growing up faster (both good and bad).

I remember the big thing growing up PK (pre-Kemper) was turning into a teen. Then it was 16 and a driver license and car. Then 18 graduating college. 21 was l e g a l drinking age.

I also remember something that has gone by the wayside; the RCA and Columbia House record club. This was a way to get your music cheap. You would send in a penny and choose 11 albums and they would send them to you. Over the next year you had to buy a certain number at regular price. They would send you a packet every month, and you had to mail back the card if you didn't want that month's selection or else it would be sent to you and you had to pay. At that time the selection was reel-to-reel, album, 8-track or cassette.

I remember my first car had an 8 track player. I believe I kept that for about 2 years before changing it over to cassette, and with the addition of some more speakers (with some help from a friend at Kemper-Temple I'm talking about you.).

8 Tracks were something that would just keep playing, were smaller than albums, but bigger than cassettes. At the time, auto re-wind and play were still not yet known.

I remember my pretty church youth teacher (who I had a crush on) had a blue Firebird with t-tops and a cassette deck. She turned me onto the more modern music (Chicago, Doobie Brothers). Some more memories every time I hear those groups.

I think back to the music, the tv variety shows, three channels and if the president was on, he was on all of them. But then I also remember playing games with my parents. Being outside catching fireflies, reading books and using my imagination-a tree house that was transformed into whatever I could imagine. I remember climbing trees, staying out until it got dark and my mom rang the dinner bell for me to come home.

So see; I do have memories not necessary of Kemper. I also believe that I lived the best of times during those. Everything made sense. The music was music. The tv shows were great. Yeah I know; I look back and think 'why did I like that?' I could, except I still like 98% of what I watched then, even now. WKRP In Cincinnati is still without a doubt one of the best. And the Thanksgiving episode... OMG. Welcome Back Kotter, the Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Love, American Style. The great thing about those times was that if you missed an episodes or were away at a military school where you didn't have TV, during the summer, they re-ran the episodes, and it was like I was seeing them for the first time!

Though I am very happy with my cds and dvds and satellite radio and tv, there is still a part of me that thinks back to those days. And I remember.

Samantha Sang: Emotion

Its amazing what you remember when you hear an old song; Emotion by Samantha Sang.

This is one of those disco/70s song that I love. Well at Kemper I had the album-Yes a vinyl record. The cover was a picture of Samantha Sang looking good. Well a friend from way south of the border, I can't remember if Gomez-diaz was from Guatemala or Honduras. In any case, Gomez was one of the nicest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He wanted the album. I am not sure if it was for the music or the picture. I think I may have sold it to him for $10 and a poster.

I had that poster for a long time after that, but eventually it went away also. The poster would be considered a motivational one; I can't describe it nor can I tell you the exact wording. But the memory of that poster, the memory of my friend and that whole transaction all come back when I hear that song. It was a time of my life that I never forget, nor want to. It sustains me through the crazy and hectic days of the here and now.

The Auctioneer and An Old Boy Can Survive

There are some things that just stay with you. I was talking with Caldwell and reminded him that I remember him and Randy wright lip syncing to The Auctioneer at Kemper. This was way before it was cool or karaoke or anything. They were just having fun making up their own dance moves.  I also remember Randy re-writing A Country Boy Can Survive to An Old Boy Can Survive.  I wish he had written it down and saved it. I know he included George and I in it, or at least Ohio and Glasgow.

I use my time at Kemper and how I was raised a yardstick for kids these days. In some ways they have it so much easier, so many toys; both the boys and girls body's maturing so fast. Thinking  they are grown up. At Kemper we knew we were mature, but we were also kids. In some ways I think we were better off than any kids these days. What we were 'taught' is something that I can't really explain.

I do remember some 'adult' magazines making their way through companies. But also comic books and paperback books. That was something that I actually looked forward to pulling OD Duty. There was usually a couple of paperback books in the desk, That was where I got hooked on a series; that until a few years ago, I had only read the first book. Again, that book along with others, stayed with me.

Why do I talk about Kemper? Why am I protected of Kemper? If you have to ask then you don't and won't understand,.

Some Old Boys don't want to remember how they were. Or admit they were someway in their wild and woolly days. Trying to re-write their history. Fail. You can lie to you wife, kids... but we know and remember  Granted there were no cell phone cameras or videos (thank God) but to deny that you didn't play Rat Patrol, and all that stuff isn't gonna cut it. I remember it. No, my memory isn't wrong, as you can tell, when it comes to Kemper, I am walking historian of my time there. And yeah, I am dam proud of that fact.

Rondo soda

Its interesting to hear people say what they wouldn't do. The argument being 'I won't drink warm soda'. Back in the day of my first year at Kemper, your footlocker was yours. You could put a blanket on the top of whatever you kept in there, and as long as you made it look nice, it was ok. I would get CARE packages which included Rondo soda-similar to Mountain Dew. Also cookies and other goodies. So I would drink warm soda, as you had no choice.

That is something that I have come to understand which makes those of us who, in my opinion, who fully embraced Kemper, understand. We do things which we have no choice, we adapt, we make do with what we have. We are Kemper. We are survivors.

Fast Food Service Industry

Ok, this post will not be about Kemper or home or anything like that. It will be about my fast food days.

While I worked at the Missourian, I also had to work at night. The only place I could really find work would be in the fast food industry. I applied at snajajob to work at the local Captain D's and got an almost immediate response to come in for an interview. I did, and a about a week later I was offered the job. I told them I wouldn't be able to get there until 5:30, working at the Missourian, I closed at 5 pm. Not a problem they said.

The point I want to focus on, is actually one of the asst. managers. I wish I could remember his name, but he looked like a miniature Allan Jackson; and had more than some redneck in him. Even he called himself white trash, which at times I might have agreed with, but there was much that offset that.

When we worked together, he would work. I mean hard. No problem from me, but others.... He said something that was very profound for someone around 25; he was there to work. To get a paycheck for him and his family. He had 2 kids and got his girlfriend pregnant again before I left Captain D's. But he worked hard and he said he wasn't there to make friends. I understood exactly what he was talking about from Kemper. Eventually it would be he and I after 8 pm. The manager was trying to keep costs down, so after the slow down, there would only be 2 people after 8 pm, as we closed at 9. But trust me, there were times, when it wasn't slow. Those were the times when I saw what he was made of. He worked. He did whatever needed to be done and got it done. You might find that I point that out as something unusual. With the exception of working at 5 Guys, where you had a 5-6 man crew, I would stack up his work against anything else. I told him so. I said that I would work for him anytime, anywhere. And there were times when he needed me not to clock in, as costs were high. Or stay later when we got a rush. That was never a problem. I respected him. Wish I could say that about a lot of the fast food managers I worked for. There are good ones out there, but there are also some bad ones. In any case...

He also knew that I shared the hard work idea; which also meant we had fun when we could. There was a time, it had just passed 8, and I hadn't started to drain the grease when this man came in and I started to hear over the speakers the order. I thought my manger was joking. It was like 30 pieces of fish, 10 chicken strips, fries, etc...a damn big order. I poked my head through the window to get confirmation that I was hearing him right, and he nodded. The guy apologized for a big order, but I shrugged it off. As I said, we were dead, I hadn't started any break down, and the man was understanding it was going to take some time to do the order.

Amazingly, no one else came in, and I got the order out with some help from my manager. As we were bagging everything up, my manager reaches through and says here. He handed me a ten-dollar bill. I poked my head through the window again. The man had given both my manager and myself a ten. I nodded my thank you and he said it wasn't from him but from his mother-in-law, but he appreciated everything we did. That was the biggest single tip I ever got, aside from working pizza delivery. And after he left, my manager helped me start to break things down as we were running behind. When it was he and I,  we could get everything cleaned and ready to go by 11 pm. That is damn good for 2 people and working with the equipment we had.

I worked at Domino's as a delivery driver and had some memorable experiences there. When I worked at the Missourian, there was no time that I wasn't working a second job at night in the food service industry. I started at Captain D's and was there until they closed. Then I got a job at Dairy Queen. Then finally I ended at 5 Guys.

Any 5 Guys you go to will be some of the cleanest and healthiest places to eat at. I met a lot of kids working fast food. A few oldsters like me also. But something I found humorous was right before I left Columbia for Kansas City.

5 Guys, in my opinion, is ranked up there as a good business to work for. They have great trainers that travel around and help open stores and so they do and meet exactly how the 5 Guys corporate want them too. Like McD's I am sure. And, the majority are young kids.

There was this one kid at 5 Guys. Tall, lanky, black guy. A bit of player. Nice guy, also hard worker. But still given the chance to slack off...in any case, I liked working with him. He made the time go by and as I said, he was also a hard worker. I think he was 24, and had a brush or two with the 'po-po.' But as I was leaving I made the comment that I couldn't wait until I was in Kansas City as I would only be working 1 job. He asked me what I meant.

"I get up at 5:30. Go to the gym, shower and get ready to be at the Missourian by 8 am so I could open. Then I was there until 5, then I got off, changed and was at 5 Guys by 5:30. I was there until at least 11 or 11:30 depending on when we got out. Then I would get to bed by 12. Then start the whole process over the next day. I worked 5 out 7 days."

He looked at me, "And how old are you?"

I was usually the oldest on any crew I worked with very few exceptions; "How old do you think I am?"

He guessed wrong, and I told him "I'm 48."

He was shocked and impressed. I wasn't as fast as he was on some things, but I could hold my own. Then when he found out everything else I was doing, he just shook his head. He couldn't believe it. He would be another I'd work with and for.

I think everyone should work pizza delivery and fast food. It gives you a perspective that nothing else will. I was lucky with everyone I ever worked with as I learned something about them and myself.

So my advice; don't get upset if your order is wrong. Don't get mad if you have to wait a bit as someone new is learning the register. You don't know their story. Whenever I go to a fast food restaurant, I never get upset or mad; I check my order and let them know if its wrong or I am missing something. Someone new working the counter, I just smile and wait. I have been there. Another thing; when you order, smile back at them. Trust me, if you have been working 6 hours without a break, a smile and some understanding goes along way.

Another time at Captain D's; we would always get this one woman every Thursday at 8:15. Like clockwork. And she would usually order the same thing. Because she was a regular we took care of her. If we had extra fish or chicken, she would get an extra. No charge, not that she ever tipped, but she always came in, was nice, and understood if we rushed before her. That earned her a place in our good graces.

I am very thankful for all the bosses who gave me a chance. For the trainers who taught me what I needed to know and do. For my co-workers who made the time bearable and even fun at time. And to the customers who were understanding and easy going when we were rushed.

I learned the most important things about myself and what I could do while working fast food.

George

I don't try and explain the kind of relationships I have with my fellow Old Boys. That alone should tell you something. I always say to people who comment about 2 or 3 good friends or friends they can count on one hand. I tell them I can't count the number of good friends and that using both hands I don't even get out of the "A"s. These are the kind of friends that you can literally get into a fight with and it doesn't mean anything.  

George. The man who I went neck and neck with at Kemper. Platoon sergeants, platoon leaders, staff, etc. One of my bestest friends in the world. A brother. A comrade in arms. That being said, let me tell you about the only time I know and remember we ever got into a fight. I don't mean arguments. Hell, George and I would get into an argument at the drop of a hat, at the suggestion of something or just for the fun of it. It could get hot, heated and loud and you know what? It never meant anything. It was never personal. No lines were ever crossed. But some who might see it would wonder. With George it was really like a verbal chess match. But in this case, George would cheat. He would know or find that 1 fact that would prove him right...even though 99 times it was wrong. And he could tell you something so slick, so sincere, you would buy it; hook, line and sinker.  Anyway, back to our fight. 

I was mad. I don't know why, but I was. And it wasn't at George. We were in the barracks walking down the hall and George said something and it just hit me wrong. I remember thinking I was gonna knock that smirk off his face and I did a spinning back kick to his head. As George tells it, I 'telegraphed' my move; and I have no doubt as I didn't connect. BUT, to my credit George also said that he could feel the wind as it went by; had he no more room to back up, and if he hadn't pulled his head I would have connected. Solid.

But, since I did not connect, and I was over balance I ended up on my butt and back. George then proceeded to jump on me and playfully beat me in the chest til he realized I was pissed and jumped off. Now, I laid there looking at him, a lot of the fire gone. I rose up on one elbow and glared at him. He had backed off; and when he saw that I wasn't gonna chase him or do anything else, he reached down and gave me his hand. I took it, stood up and brushed myself off. We continued down the hall; and honestly nothing was ever said. Until we started telling the story about how I ALMOST kicked George in the face. And we both tell it and laugh. 

As I said, it was nothing he did. I was just in a bad mood. George knows me and I honestly think that was the first time he ever saw me that pissed. He had seen so many sides of me for 6 years and beyond; like I said, I love the guy like a brother. Love his family, and I know my family loved him and his.

My trust in George is irrevocable and complete. Almost. Let me state for the record: I trust him completely with my life and everything and everyone I hold dear. BUT, if he said, "Here, try this," I wouldn't. You have to understand; George is also a practical joker. You remember Harry Anderson from Night Court? That's George. To. A. T. A con man and anything for a good joke or laugh.

I was telling George that once on the phone, as I had related it to someone about how his and mine relationship was. He laughed on the other end when I got to the 'here try this.'  He said, "Unless I said, 'no really.'" I laughed even harder and said "ESPECIALLY if you said that!" He laughed too when he realized that, yeah, he would have done it. 

At George's wedding, I was a groomsman. Fast forward to the reception. George and his lovely bride are dancing. After an appropriate amount of time I strolled over and tapped her on the shoulder. She gave me a less than pleased look and said, "Well what if I don't want to dance with you?" 

I looked her over and said, "I was asking to dance with you." Grabbed George and off we danced. I would like to say it was planned as it went off like it had been. But it was spur of the moment; just the kind of thing that George and I would do. I don't think she has fully gotten over that. 

Like I said, I trust him with my life; and hes not a bad dancer. 

Martin, marching and pork chops

Had dinner with Martin last night. It was great to sit and remember Kemper and people and times. He liked my stories, and I can say he knows me better in a lot of ways than some; and I him. I was his squad leader when he got to Kemper, and Martin did not like getting up in the morning. I was 14 but still not totally sure of myself and here I am having to deal with this lanky senior, even though he was a New Boy. Not to mention he was fast and liked to show off his martial art moves. When he was awake he was fairly ok, it was getting him to that state. There is no real manual that covers everything; and even if there was, we at Kemper would corrupt it. We called the Army's 22-5 Drill and Ceremony "22-Kemper." There were just some things that were not covered or didn't apply.  This was one of them. So I had a system.

I would initially come into his room and tell him to get up; try and wake him up. That usually succeed in getting him to a barely awake stage; he would look at me and threaten me with bodily harm. I would then leave and make sure the rest of my squad was up and doing what they were suppose to, then I would come back. As I said, for my size I can be very quiet and very fast when need be. This was one of them. I would creep back into his room and grab his blanket and dive for the door. Since you slept on top of your bed fold and used another blanket to sleep under, this usually had the affect of Martin quickly following it; until he hit the hallway. When a New Boy hit the hall, he had to brace; and while at that time Martin may not have much to be afraid of a 14 year buck sergeant, there were other bigger and badder people. After he was horizontal, he would do what he had to do. I have never let him forget that. Even when he became my platoon leader and I was his platoon sergeant. Then he became my company commander and I was one of his platoon leaders. I also saw how he changed, and I will tell you; he was and is one of the best leaders we had. It was that combination of bad ass and Kemper. It was a combination I saw repeated time and time again. If you don't understand, I can't explain it. Let me just say I'd still follow him anywhere. He still has that quality about him. And he's family.

During my New Boy year, when I transferred to Band, I thought the band was going to be easier than a line company. Yes, there was more focus on band playing, marching, sound and the myriad of other things that a band had to go through. But the kicker was the cadets in the band all were pros. I mean, a lot of them were 1st chairs in their own rights; some had gone to band camps for years, competed nationally, had parents that were musical or were just naturally gifted in the music department. I was ok, I had 4 years of playing a tuba, with some trumpet and piano training; these people played stuff I had never even heard of until I was at Kemper. I thought playing a parade when I was at my old school was kinda hard; coming from a small town with a about a 4 block main street, with a couple of parades which may have lasted 2 hours. At times that was a pipe dream. Years later when we played the World's Fair, I have no idea how long we marched and played in the summer heat, but 4 miles seem about right. And we played 80% of the time. But I am getting a head of myself. Back to my New Boy year in the band.

I believe it was right after we got back from Christmas break I had run into Chief in the Club Room. I mentioned that I played the tuba and if needed another...I don't think I got much more out when he said he would take care of it. I didn't think much more of it.

A few weeks later I had come down with something and was actually on bed rest, when suddenly, and I do mean this literally, my door flew open. Silhouetted in the door way was Ray Kendeigh. He was big. Is still big. He marches into my room and announced we were going to be room mates and he was here to move me down to K Barracks and the Band. I climbed out of bed and, still kinda foggy was wondering how... when Kendeigh went to work. I think I asked how many trips did he think it would take to move me. He replied simply, "One."

I had moved a few times, it was usually from one room to another on the same floor. Took a few hours to get everything as you had your clothes, books, trunk, etc. Not a slow process, but it was a way to make sure you got things back into the order that they were. Ray had no compunction about that. After I got up out of bed, he opened my closet, grabbed all my clothes and laid them down on the bed. Then he piled shoes, underwear, socks, sweats, and everything else on top of that. Then he did the same with my blotter and books. He told me I'd be carrying my own foot locker. Ok. I dressed in sweats and got my tennis shoes on. When I had secured my locker I saw that he had undone my bed fold and drew the four corners up into a Santa Sack. With one heave he slung it over his shoulder like dear Saint Nick and headed for the door with a 'Come on, we have to get you moved before 3rd mess.' I looked around, he had everything that wasn't in my trunk in the bed sheets and he was heading out the door. I quickly picked up my locker and followed him down to K Barracks and Band Company.

I have more than a few stories about Ray, and some I can even write here, but that's not what I want to focus on right now.

My first year in Band I was 3rd Tuba. Yes, there were actually 2 other playing tuba players in the Band at that time. Never since had there been that many actually playing tuba. Baird was our first sergeant and he was from Alaska. He was big, had a space between his two front teeth and was a good guy and a good tuba player. He was an Old Boy, and I'm not sure how many years he had been there, but he was graduating high school and wouldn't be coming back to college there. Davis was a New Boy. A very rotund young man, I believe he was also a high school senior. Also a very good tuba player and a nice kid. He did not return to Kemper after his first year. Then you had me. A high school freshman; decent tuba player or so I thought. Then I saw some of the run of notes in the songs. I didn't know my fingers could fly over the keys that fast. But they learned too. We were the Bass section. At that time, Chief usually had us in the back ranks. That was fine by me, as I knew I didn't want to be in the front, because even though I had finally figured out flanks and columns, I sure as hell didn't want to embarrass myself. Later I actually liked being on the front rank, but again, that's another story and another time.

Band was hard. Not only did we still have to study, march, clean, and learn everything about being at a military school, in a military structure, we had band practice. We had parades that the band went to. We had concerts; we played special music for dignitaries. At special times we had band practice in the morning, then play 1st mess, go to school, play 2nd mess, go to school, have an hour and half of band practice, then play 3rd mess formation and depending if there was something really special we might have more band practice before lights out. Usually we'd just play all the messes and then band practice. Sometimes we'd only play two or one mess. It depended. I'll say one thing; my chops got broken in and perhaps that why during the later years, along with the others like Bunch, Speidel, Martin, Whitney, Kipper and others we could play as long as we did. I think it was that coupled with the fact that we never wanted to let Chief down that we did what we did and played like we played.

At Old Boy's Weekend, the Corps would form up and we would march up to Walnut Grove Cemetery where we'd lay a wreath on F.T. Kemper's grave, some people would talk, and then we'd march back. I think it was about a 2 mile march. The band would start off playing then we'd go into a street beat with snares and a bass drum to keep the beat of the left foot striking ground for the Corps. We'd play Kemper Cadet and Kemper Fight, along with the National Anthem. We might have something ready if we wanted to let people know that the Kemper Corps was marching through; like Ballad of the Green Berets and Longest Day.

Now to get there and back is a major undertaking with road guards, letting the local police know we would be moving over 200 cadets in a parade. And the route was not just straight level ground. There were some hills. So we marched there; heard the speaker, laid the wreath and taps were played. And then we marched back. The usual order of march was Battalion staff, followed by the Color Guard, the Band and then Alpha, Charlie and Delta companies. That year we didn't have a Bravo company. We also had cadets, usually MP's who would act as road guards on the cross streets to stop traffic.

So returning up this last long hill, and being in the back of the formation, I saw where someone had lost a shoe. You might think that's hard to do or uncommon; not really. Especially in a close formation; if you over step and give the guy in front of you a flat tire or really step on his heel and maybe he doesn't have the shoe tied tight...in any case, there was a black shoe in the middle of the street and we marched right by it. Suddenly the shoe flew forward over our heads. We marched by it again. Again the shoe flew over our heads and whoever was missing it obviously got it and got it on. Luckily we were not anywhere close to anyone, and whoever had lost it was going to keep marching as you didn't stop for something as simple as missing a shoe.

Towards the end of my New Boy year we in formation between D barracks and the Admin building during band practice. A little strange but we'd been formed up there before. Usually it was because there was something special and needed more court for some presentation or something. We played a number and then Simms, our drum major started us off. We did a counter column and started marching towards the street. At this time, Davis and Baird were in the front ranks and I was in the last rank in the middle. Simms guided us across the street  and between two houses. He then stopped us. There was Chief and a few others and a bar-b-que/picnic; one of the houses was Chief's as it had a large 1st Calvary sign hanging on the porch  . We were then ordered to fall out and enjoy ourselves, which we did. That was the first time I ever had Chief's teriyaki pork chops. It was his way of saying 'thank-you' to us for all our hard work. It was for what we accomplished, what we had become.

That was when I knew I was home.