Monthly Archives: November 2007

Poems

Sometime Around Christmas 1997

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No Christmas party in 1997.  So we didn’t have to send out the Christmas cards early (with invitations) .  And then, with Disney World, time just got away from us.  I think I wrote this poem in mid-January and we mailed out the Christmas cards toward the end of the month.  This is an excellent way to find out who the people are who are only sending you a card because you sent them one.

Just ten years ago and it all seems foreign to me.  It did remind me that both of our mothers were present for Paul’s wedding.  That was no small fête.  I guess that means Paul and Sandy have been married for just over ten years.  I was married right before my 21st birthday and I had to get my mother to sign a consent form so I could get married.  What a crazy world.


                               Sometime Around Christmas, 1997

It all seems so fuzzy, I can’t see through the haze,
This poem should be written, but I’m still in a daze.
It was a great year, and we had a blast,
But it galloped right by us, just too darn fast.

We saw Palm Springs and Scottsdale, Prescott and Rapid City,
We were all over Alaska and boy was it pretty.
Back to Mizzou for a law school gathering,
Great to see classmates, yet only a smattering.

This poem was a casualty of the events of the year,
Too much packing, unpacking and over bookings to fear.
But as wild as it got and as it spun and twirled,
In December we trekked to Walt Disney World.

So we’re exhausted, but smiling, it was quite a treat,
To see Disney at Christmas, just to walk down each street.
So this is my best shot, my promise, what-the-hey,
You’ll be reading this poem by Ground Hog Day.

The Ross’s are in Arizona and Becky is still teaching,
But with Grant in her class, it’s a wonder she’s not screeching.
The kids are doing great, enjoying sports and school,
Except Grant broke his arm and Brandon thinks he’s cool.

Big year for the Hansens with Terry’s promotion,
But with moving to Florida came all the commotion.
With Tyler in wrestling and Missy house selling,
Kristin’s playing princess, that’s so foretelling.

This is Paul’s year, all other things aside,
At thirty years of age, he took himself a bride.
Married in September with Sandy forever more,
Both hugged Blanche and Mary, then off to the Eastern shore.

The Firm is doing well, another banner year,
So many new lawyers, I can’t keep them clear.
We’re converting from a partnership to – oh, I can’t remember,
I will no longer be a partner, I’ll soon be a member.

Our spirits are running high, and Carole still has her looks,
But she has the basement tilting with shelves and shelves of books.
She get them from her mother, from friends and from the stores,
She finds them at the Thrift Shop, along with friends that she adores.

We’re loyal Redskin fans – we show up every game,
The only thing we wish is that the team had done the same.
I think I better quit, what else can I say,
If I keep on scribbling, I’ll miss Ground Hog Day.


                                        We wish you a very merry   
                                                Ground Hog Day!



P.S.   Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

My Military Daze

SOLO in Dallas


You can’t imagine how wonderful I feel when I see our Nation honoring member of our Armed Forces.  Regardless of how individuals feel about Iraq, no one is taking it out on our fine soldiers.  It wasn’t that way during the Vietnam War.

I never understood it, but during Vietnam, people despised us because we wore the uniform of our country.  The war and the uniform were indistinguishable.  We didn’t make policy, we just honored the oath we took to serve our country.  It may have been worse for JAG officers.  The military appeals court was extremely liberal (and goofy)  and we had to advise commanders, in certain cases, that prosecution was not a good idea, because we couldn’t get a conviction or the conviction would not survive on appeal.

When the commanders were called upon during the Vietnam War to explain why discipline was so poor, many of them blamed JAGs and the non supportive military legal system.  There were a lot of better reasons, but that was the world I found in the summer of 1971 when I departed Vietnam and started my next assignment as an instructor at the JAG School in Charlottesville, Virginia.

The JAG generals in the Pentagon had explained to Colonel John Jay Douglass, the School’s Commandant, that the JAG Corps had a crises in credibility.  Colonel Douglass was tasked to come up with materials to explain to the Army the military legal system and how they could make it work for them.  Drastic times call for drastic measures.  Somewhere around forty graduate students who arrived in August found their school year pushed off into late October so that they could assist in preparing the necessary materials to address the crises in credibility.

By the time the World Wide JAG Conference met in Charlottesville in October, we had prepared “The Legal Guide for Commanders” and a number of other pamphlets including a Soldiers Guide.  The materials were a big success and The Legal Guide for Commanders is still a best seller.  These materials (along with the end of the war) made the crises in credibility disappear.

Another carefully conceived plan was to set up a special course for senior officers to educate them on the military legal system and to teach them just like we teach our JAG students.  The course, which would be three days long, was called the Senior Officers Legal Orientation (SOLO) Course.  The original course was limited to colonels and we packed the course with thirty from all over the country.  It was an instant success.

It was taught by four senior JAG officers.  Lieutenant Colonel Hugh Overholt and Major Dick Boller taught the criminal law side and Lieutenant David Fontanella and I taught the administrative law side.  We were all career officers and could relate to our “student.”  One of the colonel students was a post commander and had some labor issues he wanted to discuss.  Neither Dave nor I had any expertise in labor law.  So, we brought in an extremely bright captain named Barney Adams to answer the questions.  His answers were impeccable.  As an impartial observer and a student of teaching technique, I thought Barney was brilliant.   But when the critiques came in, we all did well, except Barney.  Most all said that the captain had a bushy mustache and needed a haircut!  Barney’s mustache and hair were within Army Regulations, but it really didn’t matter.  They were definitely too long and bushy for our “students.”  The lesson was it really doesn’t matter how good you are if your audience can’t stand how you look.  That was Barney’s last SOLO  (Barney did go on to become a successful law professor at Case Western Reserve School of Law – no hair cut requirements). 

We gave a SOLO every other month and after about three, we had commanders calling in and asking us to bring the SOLO to their installation.  So we took SOLO on the road.  We took it to Fort Lewis, Washington, Fort Hood, Texas and Fort Sill, Oklahoma.  By then, we realized that SOLO didn’t work as well in the field.  First, it was too close to the flag pole.  Students kept receiving messages regarding problems with their unit or office and they would get up and disappear for a while.  The bigger problem, however, was that at Fort Sill, for example, every officer would agree with whatever the Fort Sill Commanding General had to say.  There could be no free exchange of ideas.  That may be a good career move, but it wasn’t what we were trying to accomplish.

It sure is taking me a long time to get to Dallas.  As you might expect, it was a side trip off of our Fort Hood SOLO class.  When we finished the classes, we could spend the night at Fort Hood and then take a puddle jumper to Dallas and fly home, or take a rental car to Big D for the night and fly out early.  We took the second option.

By the time of the Fort Hood SOLO, Fran Gilligan had replaced Dick Boller on the team.  Upon arrival in Dallas, the two colonels went off to find some cultural event and Fran and I started looking for some fun.  We ended up going to a place called the Dog Patch.  All of the bar maids were dressed like Daisy Mae from the comic strip, Lil’ Abner.  They were walking around barefoot.  This place would never survive an OSHA inspection.  Anyway, we had a good time and shut the place down about 1:00 AM.  Everything seemed shut down.  We finally ended up at a place called the Playgirl Club next to Love Field.

We walked in and there was all kinds of noise.  We couldn’t see anything because of a big tarp hanging by the door.  Some sweet young thing collected our cover charge which entitled us to two free drinks and live entertainment.  We paid and walked in.  The place was empty!  The bartender was showing a loud raucous movie on the other side of the tarp.  We laughed at how we had been snookered.  When we ordered our drinks, we asked about the live entertainment.  She said, “Coming right up,” and disappeared into the back of the bar.  Fran and I are now convinced that she went into the back and woke up the dancer.

The waitress came back with our drinks.  The bartender shut off the movie and flipped a switch illuminating a stage right in from of us (we had the best seats in the house!).  Then, some scantily dressed gal came wandering out of the back.  She climbed up on the stage and posed herself on a piano bench that was covered by an artificial leopard skin rug.  As the music started, she raised her arm into the air, then there was a crash and she disappeared!  Both Fran and I looked to see if the bartender had seen what happened.  He was nowhere.  Fran and I stared at each other.  We were pretty sure she had fallen off the back of the stage, but we were in a strange town, in a strange bar at two in the morning.  Regardless, we felt compelled to help her.  If we were being set up, so be it.  As the song continued, we climbed up on the stage and peered into the abyss behind the stage.  We couldn’t see her.  Finally, we asked if she was OK.  She said, “I thank so.”  We asked if she could get up.  She said, “I thank so.”  Then we saw her climbing back on the stage.  She smiled.  We smiled.  We went back to our seats and she finished her dance.   The song was over.  Overall, she probably danced for less than thirty seconds.  Then, she wandered toward the back of the bar.  We decided that we had had enough excitement for one night and got out of there.

The next day, the colonels asked if we had had a good time in Big D.  We said, “We thank so.”

I checked with the JAG School and 36 years later, SOLO is still going strong.  The School gives the course five times a y
ear and it is now four and a half days in length.  Each class had 50 students and it is a mandatory class for all brigade and separate battalion commanders.  It has sold the rest of the Army on the JAG Corps.  Is that a success story?  I thank so!

Poems

Blanche

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On November 14, 2007, Carole’s Mom, Blanche Shaw, turned ninety years old.  That’s quite an accomplishment.  Carole decided that we would surprise Blanche at her birthday party.  There was quite a bit of discussion about how much you want to surprise a ninety-year-old woman, but Carole was determined.

So, dealing with her brother, Will, it was decided that there would be a dinner party for Blanche on Saturday, November 17.  We had told Blanche that we couldn’t make it.  We lived over 800 miles away.  Then, we would walk in just when everyone was seating themselves at Andrea’s Steakhouse in O’Fallon, Illinois.

We left Springfield on Thursday so that we could spend a night with our children (Paul, Sandy, Josh and Jack) in Roanoke.  Then, we spent Friday night with Del and Jane O’Roark in Louisville.  They are close friends from our military days.  I worked for Del many years ago.  By leaving late in the morning, it would put us in O’Fallon right about 4:30 PM.

The biggest problem with this plan was that Carole calls her mother every day and she had to come up with some wild explanations as to why she was always calling on her cell phone.  I told Carole that I didn’t think we could pull it off.  But, we did!

Will called us on his cell phone to let us know everyone was sitting down.  We walked in and Carole touched her Mom’s shoulder from behind.  I got ready to call 911.  But it all came out perfect.  After some delightful tears, we all sat down and celebrated Blanche’s birthday.

The poem, below, is to commemorate the occasion.


                                                Blanche

We’re here to celebrate and that’s what we’ll do,
We’ll shout Happy Birthday to Blanche-Poo.
Ninety years young, with a smile and a knack,
For handling about everything, she’s sharp as a tack.

Grew up in the Depression, a truly smart child,
Living through some hard times, it really could get wild.
She was an excellent student, her grades were always tops,
We’re talking about the only child of Mam-ma and Pops.

She spent most of her life in Illinois,
Where she had a girl and a boy, and another boy.
She had beautiful children, mercy me,
But apples don’t fall far from the tree.

Of grandchildren, she has more than a few,
There’s Becky, Missy, Paul, Kelly, David and Drew.
Great grandchildren yes, there really is a pack,
With Grant, Brandon, Tyler, Kristin, Josh and Jack.
Six just doesn’t seem right, I’m sure there must be seven,
That’s right, there is Miss Charlotte, who just arrived from Heaven.

She lived in East Side and Belleville and down on the Lake,
Now she’s back in O’Fallon for goodness sake.
Playing poker with the girls, she comes out OK,
President of the Association, she’s had her say.
Now, she’s hooked to some tubes, makes her want to scratch,
But whatever you do, please don’t light a match.

Ninety years and counting, through the smiles and tears,
The time just simply flew by, all  those special years.
But we’re all here to tell you,  what you mean to us,
And whether you like it or not, we’re going to make a fuss.

                                                    We love you

Poems

96′ With Gusto

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I wish I could tell you that this poem is special.  It was special in 1996 when it was the vehicle we used to let all our friends know how we were doing.  But, if Tyler’s barfing in the back seat was the big news, then it was a pretty calm year.  The smoothest part of the Tyler episode was the way Missy magically made the whole problem go away.  It’s nice when your children solve problems, rather than create them.

Becky, our oldest daughter, started back teaching school and that was really significant.  Paul got into the Virginia Corrections System (on the right side).  Both Becky and Paul are still at it.

Season tickets to see the Redskins were impossible to get.  We had been on the waiting list for years.  But, with the new stadium, the club level opened to people foolish enough to pay the outrageous price.  Because of the Dual Compensation Act, I did not receive any of my military retirement pay while I worked at the Department of Transportation.  Now, I was receiving it.  So, I told Carole we could go to all of the Redskin’s games for just one month’s retirement pay.  She said OK.  Pretty slick.  If she had realized that we were paying over $350 for two tickets each game, she never would have agreed.


                                                96′ With Gusto

The pen’s in my hand, there’s a calm in my look,
I’m the proud owner of a new rhyming book.
  (licensee, maitre d, potpourri, nth degree)
So here goes ninety-six, it’s almost gone away,
But let’s not treat it tritely, it’s more than a cliché.
    (but, time does fly)

For the first time in years, we had no holiday party,
The strain of getting ready, had made it seem foolhardy.
But with no preparation, the holiday lost its shine,
So we’ve done a quick reversal, we’re about to pour the wine.
        (we invited how many?)

Carole so enjoys the Thrift Shop, and searching for used books,
She even scours the beltway, and knows all the little nooks.
But, of the inner loop and outer loop, she’s thoroughly unknowing,
She thinks it is dependent on the direction she is going.
    (I thought the Wilson Bridge was the other way)

Jack enjoys his work, but it truly is a grind,
Keeping track of the hours will simply boggle the mind.
But the phrase “frequent flyer” brings on the smiles,
When you don’t work for Uncle Sam, you get to keep the miles.
Over three years with the Firm, that’s not really plenty,
He must work to seventy-four, before he makes his twenty.
            (has anyone seen my cane?)

Paul has a new job and we think its great,
He’s counseling inmates locked up by the State.
He’s grown a few inches, and looks hail and hardy,
He lives close enough to come home for the party.
    (please don’t bring any counselees)

Missy came to visit and brought Kristin and Tyler,
He’s still a rascal, but she’s quite the beguiler.
We traveled to the outlets and traffic was a drag,
Tyler wasn’t feeling well, oops, too slow with the plastic bag.
    (don’t worry, we’ll buy some new clothes)

When Grant and Brandon go to school, they’re no longer the only feature,
For Becky is also riding along, because she’s the fifth grade teacher.
They’ll need to work hard, it just seems prudent,
For in one year, Grant is Becky’s student.
    (so, who wants to clean the erasers?)

Both Moms came to visit, but next we did stray,
To St. Louis, Puerto Rico, Wintergreen and Cape May.
To Hilton Head, Martha’s Vineyard and Colorado Springs,
And, of course, to see Mickey and Tinker Bell’s wings.
            (next year – North to Alaska)

The Redskins are moving, a new stadium is appearing,
It’s happening in 97′, and we will be cheering.
You’re wondering about the tickets, you’re wondering what it took,
Each Saturday we clean the stables for owner Jack Kent Cooke.
             (sure are a lot of horses)

The poem has gone on way too long, and writers cramp I fear,
So we wish you a Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year!




Random Thoughts

Blogging Through the Blogosphere

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My wife, Carole, found an article in the Washington Post entitled, “Be More Than a Blip in the Blogosphere.”  That sounded like it might be helpful.  I didn’t want to be a blip, so I read the things they suggested to make me a successful blogger.

I started out in good shape.  They suggested to “tell stories and don’t just post photos and links.”  I thought, “that’s me, I tell stories, even in my poems.”  I don’t post photos cause I don’t know how (don’t give up on me – I will learn).  Next, they suggested creating a voice.  After studying it for a while, I realized they meant having an area of expertise, like being a movie critic, or into cooking, or city council politics.  I strike out on that one.  I think my topic of “Random Thoughts,” on a scale of one to ten, gets me a zero.  But, I submit my “voice” is humor.  I try (emphasis on try) to be funny in each submission.  I’m not talking about knee slapping funny.  If I have caused a little smile to cross your face, I will be delighted.

The next suggestion left me in a stupor.  They suggested that I “sift through blogrolls and create one” of my own.   I am familiar with egg rolls and nut rolls.  I jumped ahead to the next suggestion to see if I could survive without blogrolling.  But, the next suggestion told me to “widget my page!”  I thought a widget was something that was bought and sold in an Economics 101 class.  I decided not to blogroll my widget until I figured out what the hell was going on.

By now, I knew I was the proverbial babe.  But the article is going to help.  Here is what I am going to do.  I’m going to look at other people’s blogs and comment on them, plugging ricequips.com every chance I get.  I’m going to join the “blogging community” so that I can post ricequips.com.  Then, in keeping with their advice, I am going to nominate ricequips.com for an award (the bigger the better).  I am going to nominate myself for some award so that I can say at the top of my website, “Nominated for the Most Original and Entertaining Website in North America.”  I have no shame.  Three years from now, it will say “Nominated for Three Consecutive Years!”

One thing you can do for me is subscribe to ricequips.com.  If you have looked at my home page and you can’t figure out how to do it, then forget I mentioned it.  The price is right.  It’s free.  And then, each time I click on the publish button, an email will go out to you with my latest effort.  Think about it.  If you don’t, then I am going to have to start widgeting my blogroll.

Poems

95′ Holiday Poem

 
In late 1995, Congress couldn’t agree on a budget and parts of the Government shut down.  The debate still rages as to whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.  Also, it’s a kick in the teeth when it is decided that you’re “nonessential.”  I was two plus years out of Government service, so that was somebody else’s problem.

One of the really great feel good stories in 1995 was Cal Ripken breaking the record for most consecutive baseball games played (2131).  If you figure 162 games a year (I’m not sure the early years had that many), we are talking about playing over 13 years without missing a game!  This record is not just about sports, but about how a person approaches his responsibilities.  His record is something that everyone can celebrate.

My feel good story that year was that I was elevated to partner at Arent Fox.


                                                           95′ Holiday Poem

The Fed may have no budget, and the Government may close,
Yet, I’m picking up my pen, to write some silly prose.
Government worker – nonessential, they’re all uptight,
My issue – should this poem have a copyright?
                    (nope!  not even Jessie Jackson would lift a line)

The Disney family reunion was simply grand,
We ate, rode and played till we couldn’t stand.
Four generations from two to 79,
Thirteen’s not unlucky, when you’re having a great time.
                                                        (no! no! not the luau!)

Missy and Terry have moved, they’re back where they met,
Terry’s working at Caterpillar, making buckets, yet.
Kerby’s still at Safeway, but stacking lettuce no more,
He showed his MBA, and now he runs the store.
                                            (love those sons-in-law)

Paul still works with troubled teens,
Yes, saving a few pearls,
But the problem just got more complex,
He’s switching from boys to girls.
                        (I think I’ll just stand outside)

It’s been a banner year, with really no down side,
Carole’s doing great, she’s definitely my pride.
No longer an Arent Fox newbie, but I’m still making boners,
Yet did enough things right, now I’m one of the owners!
                        (what do you mean, capital contribution?)

Work took me to Brea, Dearborn and Troy,
Fun took us to Charleston, Chicago and boy,
The rocks of Sedona, now that’s a find,
But the Indian myths will play with your mind.
                                    (how – scrambled!)

Mom celebrated eighty at Jeannette and Bill’s,
In Henderson, North Carolina, up in the hills.
We children were there, Karen came a long way,
We laughed till we cried – just a great day.
                                    (no, not that story again!)

Five years in this house, records for us and Cal,
Blanche came to visit, and Holly’s such a pal.
She brings in the paper and sometimes a branch,
That’s Holly I mean, certainly not Blanche!
                                (roll over, sit up – good girl)

So that’s it for this year, we miss all our friends,
Especially at holidays, when the year ends.
But I have the answer, I have the fix,
Let’s see you real soon in Ninety-six!
                (have a wonderful holiday and a happy New Year)

Golf Daze

Bad Day at Golf


Any golfer will tell you that there doesn’t have to be a reason to have a bad round of golf.  Just show up.  There is, however, one scenario that is guaranteed to end in a bad round.  If the last time you played, you had a great round and you just can’t wait to get out to improve on it, you will be humbled.  Golf is a humbling game and when your excitement and expectations are at their highest, it will smash you like a bug.

Last Tuesday, I had a miserable round.  It didn’t come as a surprise.  As a matter of fact, I became stoic in the parking lot.  That was where I realized that my putter and six iron were not in my golf bag.  They were leaning against the portable bar in the room we added on so I could practice putting and swinging (the room has a cathedral ceiling – surprise!).

If I went home to get the clubs I would miss my tee time.  So I went into the Fort Belvoir Club House and asked if I could borrow a Putter (I could get by without my six iron).  We went into the lost-club closet.  It was fairly dark and I still had my sunglasses on.  I picked out a short flat-faced putter.  I suspected it was a lady’s club, but I didn’t care.  What I didn’t realize until I got out in the sun light was that the club was painted pink.  Even the face of the putter was painted pink.  I had no success and at the end of nine holes, I switched putters.  That will be the only nine holes I ever play with a putter with a painted face (distance was OK – direction was bad).

I went back to the closet and found a putter that I thought said “Acushnet.”  Acushnet made the famous Bulls Eye putter that was so popular a number of years back.  They still make excellent putters.  The putter I selected was a mallet head.  I like mallet heads.  After I missed a five foot putt on the 10th hole, I took a closer look at the putter.  It didn’t say Acushnet, it said, “Accusline.”  It was a clumsy knock-off.  The only thing done well on the putter was the printing style to make “Accusline” look like “Acushnet.”  The shaft was heavy, the mallet had no weight (distance was bad – direction was bad).  The whole time I am playing, I am telling myself that I am getting just what I deserve (if the game is 90% mental, that is not the best thing to be telling yourself).  Yes, you are right, the blame for the poor putting should be equally shared by the stick and the stick handler.

I need to come up with a check list before I leave the house.  In fact, as I was leaving, Carole, my wife, is asking, “Do you have your shoes?” I forgot my golf shoes when we went to Florida for a golf vacation.  I also have forgotten them when I have practiced at Fort Belvoir.  I would just go ahead and practice in the shoes I had on – usually Nike running shoes.  Then, she said, “Do you have your wallet?”  I have previously forgotten my wallet and that is a show stopper.  You can’t get on to Fort Belvoir without an ID.  But, does she ask if I have my putter?  NO!

I have a little ritual I go through when I am having a bad round.  I periodically count my clubs to make sure I go home with the same number I came with.  While the number was less that usual, I did go home with all the clubs I brought.

I play in a retired members golf association at Fort Belvoir.  We play most of the country clubs in Northern Virginia.  So, it’s good to have a high handicap.  But there was no way I was going to post this score.  I decided it would be wrong on so many levels.

The good news is that this experience will guarantee that I won’t forget my putter for at least six months.