RICE QUIPS

My Crepe Myrtle Tree

2010-03-15T00:26:00Z

In the Army, you never stay anywhere very long. You receive orders, perhaps move to a post and are assigned to quarters.  And, that is your "temporary home." Sorry Carrie. You might plant flowers. But as for trees or shrubs, what's there is what you get.

Our first permanent assignment (which means more than six months) was Fort Hood, Texas. After waiting almost a year, we were assigned to quarters on Newton Court, right across from the Officers Club. After spending three years in law school in a cramped apartment, this house seemed enormous. The dining room was large enough to play ping pong. We didn't have any dining room furniture, so we bought a ping pong table.

The yard had lots of vegetation. The back border of our yard consisted of pomegranate bushes - ten to twelve. The fruit was so bitter that you couldn't eat it. But, at the left front corner of the house was a kumquat tree.   The fruit from that tree tasted like nectar for the gods. I would lose myself under that tree, picking, peeling and devouring the precious fruit. The next and last year in those quarters resulted in no fruit. A late frost wiped out the buds. I have bought kumquats, but they never tasted as sweet as the ones hanging from that tree.

In 1990, I retired from the Army and we bought a not-so-temporary home. We have lived in it for the last twenty years. At the corner where the driveway meets the sidewalk to our front door, we have a crepe myrtle tree. The first thing we noticed was that the pinkish red blooms were enormous.  Some were almost as large as a soccer ball. We looked around the neighborhood and found that there were bigger crepe myrtles. There were also more robust crepe myrtles, but none had blooms as large as ours. We hoped this would not lead to bloom envy.

Our pride was dashed with the first good thunderstorm. Many of the branches were broken and most of the rest of the tree was practically on the ground. As soon as it stopped raining, I rushed out and cut off the broken branches and shook the other blooms to remove the weight of the water. I ended up with petals all over me. Next, I tied up the remaining branches like they were public enemy # 1.   This kept the tree upright, but with the next storm, many of the branches snapped.

The tree became an obsession of ours. Rope, rope and more rope. Carole observed that Fort Myer had a large number of crepe myrtles and each winter they would cut them off at about two feet. So we did that for a few years. Each year the tree grew about the same height, with the same enormous blooms and the same wet weather results. I bought more rope.

One year, we had an extremely severe winter and lost some shrubs. I thought the crepe myrtle was toast. Crepe myrtles get started late in the spring. I didn't realize that and since everything else was green, I figured our crepe myrtle had croaked. I cut it all the way to the ground. I am telling you it did not look alive.

By June, it was shooting out of the ground like a weed. It wasn't quite as tall as previous years, but it still had its beautiful over sized blooms. I had to use a lighter weight rope that year.

About three years ago, Carole came up with an article in Southern Living entitled, "Stop! Don't Chop!" It gave a blow by blow accounting of how to cut and shape your crepe myrtle. The article gave credit to a brochure from the Spartanburg Men's Garden Club. You probably were wondering what the Spartanburg men were doing when it wasn't NASCAR season. Well, they are trimming their crepe myrtles.

Anyway, I'm into my third season of following their advice. But I still had to deal with these gynormous blooms. As things will happen, all the stars lined up a year ago. Just as the blooms were at their peak (and before a storm), we were having stone edging placed around the house. Tom Hardy, our landscaper, looked at the crepe myrtle and said, "You know, you need to remove some of those blooms off of the branches or you will have trouble when it rains."   Duh!

He pointed at a branch with three large blooms and said I should cut off one or two. There it was, the answer I had never considered. It never crossed my feeble mind to whack off some of the blooms. It was truly hard to do, at first. But, it worked. I may have had one branch snap last year, but that is real progress.

I actually put on my calendar for the first of February to trim the crepe myrtle. Well, it is still waiting to be trimmed. I couldn't get to it in February because of the damn snow. There is still time.

The Mail Pile

2010-03-03T19:12:00Z

We arrived home on February 5th from our two week Panama Canal cruise. We ducked in right before the second monstrous snow storm wiped out Washington, D.C. It wasn't easy, but we made it home, picked up our dog and were protected against whatever Mother Nature wanted to throw at us.

We sat at the kitchen table and stared at two weeks of mail. It was well over a foot high. Then it struck me. It might be interesting to see what kind of mail one received over a two- week hiatus. I knew it wasn't going to be exciting, but it might be interesting.

Carole starts by sorting the mail. She takes out the bills and her stuff (coupons and magazines) and I get the rest. Weight wise, I get 90% of the mail. Quality wise - 3%.

I noted that on February 1st, we received our Christmas card from Carrie (the Weird) Baker. This was really early for her. I hoped everything was OK. Usually the card arrives so late, you are not sure whether it's late or early. We won't be able to complain to Carrie about our snow, because she lives in Rapid City, South Dakota.

At Fort Riley, I was a member (and for what seemed forever, the miserable Secretary) of the Ancient and Honorable Order of Lion Tamers (AHOLT). This gaggle had no social redeeming value. But each year, we took a picture of ourselves and the miserable Secretary mailed it out to all previous members as our Christmas card. We made great effort to mail it out before St. Patrick's Day.

I was convinced that I would have more credit card solicitations than anything else. I was wrong. I only had two. I guess they have given up on me. The big winner was charitable solicitations. If I ever gave a buck to a charitable organization, it never forgot me. In fact, the Alzheimer's Association sends me something every month. I guess they figure if I'm concerned about Alzheimer's, maybe I won't remember that I have already given.

Right behind charitable solicitations are political solicitations. In weak moments, I have contributed to both political parties Consequently, I have made both of their mailing lists. Do you know what? I think the same people write the material for both parties. "The other party (be it Dems or Reps) is part of an evil plot to destroy our country." The only way I can save the Free World is to send money. It is really tough carrying this awesome responsibility.

Then there's the mail where they want to sell you stuff. A store closing sale. Cars at bargain prices. Membership at the Smithsonian. Insurance solicitations. Oh yes, let's not forget lawn care. I haven't seen my lawn in three months.

I received two letters from brokers who want to take Carole and me to dinner. Isn't that nice? We don't even know them and they want to take us to dinner. Maybe they are lonely. I'm torn, but not that torn.

Golf Magazine wants me to renew my subscription. What they don't realize is that each year I go to the D.C. Golf Expo out by Dulles Airport and, as part of the entrance fee (which is quite low), I get a year's free subscription to Golf Magazine. There is a slight glitch this year. It was to be held on the 5th, 6th and 7th of February when nobody could get out of their driveway. The Golf Expo was snowed out. But if it ain't free, I don't want it.

As I am wrapping up this list, I want to mention that I received three golf brochures from Myrtle Beach. I am convinced that there are only two types of people at Myrtle Beach, golfers and those who mail out golf brochures. I wonder if they could include a free subscription to Golf Magazine.

Now the US Postal Service is talking about not delivering on Saturday because they lost billions last year. That would mean that I would have to wait the entire weekend to get my Alzheimer's' solicitation. By Monday, I may not remember whether I have already donated.

And Then It Snowed, and Snowed and Snowed

2010-02-14T17:39:00Z

If you would have asked me last fall about winters in Washington, DC, I would have told you that they really aren't bad. My theory, while not scientific (or even accurate) is that the Blue Ridge Mountains seem to break up whatever is coming at us. Heavy snows seem to go to our North. Then, I would mention that I bought a snow blower about five years ago and never used it the first three years. This year, all hell broke loose.

Carole and I are planners. So we started planning our Christmas party in February 2009. For any number of years, we had a party every year. Then, about ten years back, we went to every other year. In February 2009, we hadn't had a party in five years and to my surprise, Carole wanted to have another party. We sat down and made a list of what needed to be done each month.    For example, outdoor lights needed to go up in October. All indoor decorations had to be completed by November so that Carole could start cooking in December. Cooking is a major project. I actually had the tree up and decorated before Thanksgiving.

The party is always the Saturday before Christmas. So, December 19th was the day. We invited over 100 people. We are like the airlines, we overbook. But through the years, we have acquired so many dear friends that it is hard to know where to stop. There's military friends and Carole's crew of volunteers from the Fort Myer Thrift Shop. There's the neighbors and the Arent Foxers. And, of course, my golf buddies. We figured somewhere between 60 and 70 would come. To our surprise, about 85 RSVP'd that they were coming. I began moving furniture around so that there would be room for three more bodies here and four over there. On Thursday night, I grilled five marinated flank steaks. That morning, we picked up a 12 pound Honey Baked ham.

On Friday night, the snow started falling and by noon on Saturday, we had about 14 inches. The entire area was paralyzed. For your information, DC can't handle two inches of snow. Schools are shut down when there is a hint of snow in the forecast. I told Carole that at least the storm didn't leave us in doubt. Our daughter, Missy, flew in on Friday for the party and Christmas. That gave us something to be thankful for. So, did we have a party? You bet. We had those invited neighbors who could walk come over. There were about 15 of us and we had plenty to eat and drink and eat and drink.

We didn't have room in the refrigerator for all the left overs. But, with the cold weather, we filled up the garage. Did I mention the 22 pound turkey we were thawing out for Christmas eve? Even though we had food everywhere, Carole decided to fix the bird for us and Missy's family (Terry and the two kids, Tyler and Kristin, came in on Tuesday). It was probably the right decision because what were the two of us going to do with a 22 pound bird? Also, Carole likes left over turkey.

Well, the marinated flank steaks were to die for and we ate them every other day (the other days we had ham). Christmas is especially good with family around.

Late in January, we flew to San Diego for a two week cruise through the Panama Canal. I will tell you about the cruise another day. We were to arrive at Fort Lauderdale on Friday, February 5th. Our return flights took us through Charlotte and into Dulles International arriving at 9:00 PM.

During the cruise, the CNN picked up by the ship was the international version. This was really great if you wanted to know the weather in Helsinki or who won the latest cricket match. So it wasn't until we arrived at Fort Lauderdale and CNN transitioned to the US version that we found out that DC was getting ready for another snow of the decade. How depressing. Neither of us even wanted to eat breakfast.  While we were unaware, our flight had been canceled the night before. United notified us on our home phone.

Well, we scooted out to the airport and checked out our options. Our first good omen came when we noticed that our overweight bags couldn't be weighed because the scale at our counter was broken. There were two earlier flights to DC. There was one leaving very shortly to Charlotte and then to Dulles arriving at 3:00 PM. The other was a direct flight to Reagan that would get us in at 2:00 PM   Our car was at a Fairfield Inn out by Dulles, but we weren't willing to roll the dice in Charlotte. We opted for the direct flight to Reagan and were actually on the ground at 2:00 PM. Home at 2:30 and had picked up our dog, Nikki, from the kennel by 4:30. Then, we hunkered down for 20 more inches.

We didn't see a snow plow until late Monday afternoon. But, with two good size snow blowers and a lot of good neighbor spirit, we cleared driveways and the street on Sunday. Then, on Monday, my neighbor, Jim Vancini and I drove out to Dulles and dug out my other car. That's right, no garage. Jim found some jumper cables and we were in business. The battery in my new Infiniti could not believe I had left it out in the snow for two and a half weeks. I guess they don't go camping over in Japan. I was thinking, if I had purchased a Lexus, it might have taken off by itself.

So, we got the cars tucked away and here comes the three-pete blizzard of this winter. Tuesday and Wednesday, we had white-out conditions with snow and wind whipping around at 35 mph. So, so much for the Blue Ridge Mountain theory. The weatherman was explaining some sort of circular motion up in the air between land and sea that was causing us to be wiped out. I have decided that global warming is a bunch of crap. Hey, Al Gore, go home and turn out some lights and leave the rest of us alone.

Twenty Questions

2010-01-18T17:19:00Z

Bill Grenard is a high school friend. That would not seem unusual until you realize that after graduation, we both moved away and didn't see each other until our 50th high school reunion. In fact, we didn't hang around much in high school because he was a brainy kid and I was a jock. About the only thing we had in common was being math wizards.

Well, as you do at reunions, we spent some time catching each other up on what had happened in the last 50 years and found that we had quite a bit in common. We have kept in touch over the last three plus years.

Shortly before Christmas, he told me that rather than have family members provide him with traditional gifts, he was asking them to write twenty or so questions. These are not questions to be answered. He got the idea from a book by Padgett Powell entitled, "The Interogative Mood: a Novel?." The book is made up entirely of questions. He provided me with examples from the book and then provided some questions from him. I told him I would send him twenty questions for Christmas.

Below, you will find some of Powell's questions, some of Bill's questions and my Christmas gift to Bill. If this inspires you to comment with twenty or so questions, great. If you decide it is a stupid idea and pass, I will understand.

I liked Bill's questions better that Powell's. And, to no one's surprise, I liked my questions best of all!

Some of Powell's questions:

Do you do yard sales? Are you happy with your teeth? Do you in general trust or mistrust earnestness? Do you attend parades? Do you gamble? Do you like pull candy? Have you any weapons on you at the moment? Would you buy a pearl choker? Are you important? Do you have any skin disabilities such as eczema or psoriasis? Can you envision saying seriously to someone, "You just holler for help, and I'll come arunnin' "? Do you like to use terms like "triangulation" and "extrapolation" when not speaking mathematically? Are you bold, would you say? Can you count in languages other than your mother tongue? Would you like for your life to be more, or less, dangerous than it is? Have you ever experienced any sort of hernia?

Is baseball all it's cracked up to be? Do people stink, mostly? Is there life on other planets, or after death on this one, as it were? Do you like stalling for time? Can you lob a grenade accurately, would you think? Are there interstices in your character? Is it hard for you to resist the demands of whiny people? Have you ever wound an armature for an electric motor? Do you know precisely what a chilblain is? Do you bite your tongue or grind your teeth at night? Have you ever witnessed any credible sign of ghosts?

(I think that is enough. As I said, I thought Bill's questions were better.)

Some of Bill Grenard's questions:

Do you think that the older a person is, the better judgment they have, or does each person exhibit about the same level of good or poor judgment throughout the adult life? What does the word deuteronomy mean? Do you think people who live in a hilly area are in general more mentally unsettled than those that live in a flat area? Have you ever used the word "morsel" conversationally?

Seeing that the latest mountain bikes have 24 or 27 speeds; do you think this is just about right, overkill, or would 48 or 54 speeds be even better? Do you find that you take pleasure in the successes of underlings, but successes of your peers make you feel bad, at least for a brief time? Would you rather have a parakeet or a turtle for a pet? What would change you mind on that? Would you rather be a cross-country truck driver or a cross-country bus driver?

Do you think there is, in aggregate, a greater amount of talented, high-quality TV programming now that we have 600 channels than when we had just a dozen or so? Doesn't it seem that Eeyore is clinically depressed and Pooh is suffering from early-onset Alzheimer's? How much do TV sets playing in grocery stores enhance your shopping experience? If you think that people living in hilly areas are more unstable mentally, do you think it is because mentally unstable people tend to move to hilly areas, or is it just that living in a hilly area provides a dimension of variability that people in flat areas don't experience and that makes them a little less stable? If you lived in a flat area and wanted to ride around the neighborhood, how many speed would you want on you bicycle?

If you think people have about the same level of judgment throughout their life, should we lower the minimum age for President to 21? Do you feel that people are subjected to more distractions, say ten or fifteen years ago, and if you do, how do you square this with reports that productivity has continuously increased over the time period? Do you feel that if the Eeyore character had been a regular on Mr. Rogers, the show would have been much too depressing for small children to watch, or would the children who watched it have just turned out to be very quiet and sort of whiny?

My Christmas present questions: (You will notice that I write shorter questions and don't go through the folly of deciding what constitutes a paragraph.)

Is Chap Stick a necessity? How does my dog always know what time it is? When are the Vietnam veterans going to be welcomed home? Why do the American people believe candidates who make outrageous promises and then ignore the fact when they don't keep them? Can you dress for success on a nudist beach? Is a stitch in time better that receiving a penny for you thoughts? Is Tiger making his own decisions or is he receiving wise counsel and ignoring it? Why is it difficult for people to admit that they like fruit cake? Is golf a game or a sickness? What's so great about a White Christmas? What ever happened to Pong? Why did the lower enlisted man in financial trouble have a color TV, when I couldn't afford one? Who are the Jones anyway? Would there be more or less strife in the world if everyone spoke the same language? Why should anyone select the cartoon character Snoopy to be their hero? Is chess a game or a sickness? Is there any reality in a reality TV show? If there is water on the Moon, will the cheese go bad? Why do they make tooth paste containers so that you can't get the last of the tooth paste? Would Yo-Yo Mah be such a memorable cellist if his name were Joe Schwartz?

Congressman Gerry Connolly

2010-01-08T20:17:00Z

An Open Letter to Congressman Gerry Connolly, 11th District, Virginia

Dear Congressman Connolly:

A few days back, I received in the mail a six-page brochure from you entitled, "A Progress Report from Congressman Gerry Connolly." It was an expensive glossy brochure with color pictures of you on four pages. I thought, if this is how you want to spend your campaign money, that's your business.

Then I noticed in the fine print on the last page the following, "This mailing was prepared, published and mailed at taxpayer expense." I am furious. I don't understand how you, in good conscience, can spend our money to make yourself look good. Shame on you. You could have published your report on plain white paper with black and white photos (if necessary) and saved the taxpayers thousands of dollars. I plan on holding on to the brochure so that I can show people I talk to that you are being a spendthrift with our money.

Also, please consider losing the mustache. Every time I see you smile, it reminds me of the dastardly villain who is tying the poor helpless damsel to the railroad track. In my own mind, I see the poor helpless damsel as our health care program that you have already tied to the track.

If you intend to send out any more expensive glossy, color photo reports, please remove me from your mailing list.

Sincerely,
Paul J. Rice
11th District Voter

A Special Christmas - 2009

2009-12-23T16:55:00Z

As many of you know, each year I write a Christmas poem. When I started out, I was posting a number of them from previous years. Well, I am current and for the first time, I think I am going to post this year's poem two days before Old Saint Nick arrives. Ho, Ho, Ho.

Merry Christmas to all of you.

A Special Christmas - 2009

In the year of our Lord, two thousand and nine,

I put pen to paper and hoist a stein.

It’s time to report on a special year,

Fifty years joined, a lofty tier.

So young for fifty, someone should delve,

OK, we admit it, we were only twelve.

With kids and grandkids, we shipped off to Alaska,

A neat way to celebrate, Right? I ask ya?

Missy, Terry and Kristin made it, but were late,

They finally got their luggage, when we docked at Icy Strait.

The table seated twelve, but we had one more,

So we snatched an additional chair, and had fun galore.

We loved to watch the glaciers, and were startled by the whales,

We came home excited and exhausted, with many glorious tales.

It’s a party year, after four without,

And it always rains hardest, after a drought.

Preparations started way back in September,

And the tree has been up since I can’t remember.

But it’s all worth it, it’s where the road ends,

Surrounded at Christmas, by family and friends.

Blanche and Mary are in their nineties, but they won’t pitch a hissy,

They just want to remind us, old age is not for a sissy.

Blanche needs her oxygen, so she brings along her tank,

Mary’s broken hip’s repaired, there’s Karen and doctors to thank.

Disney in January and lessons at Ledbetter Golf,

Jack’s working on his swing, oh please do not scoff.

Financially it all worked out, you really can’t beat that,

For David’s paying Jack, not to wear his hat!

RAJA in New Orleans, what a combination,

Party with old friends, now that’s a celebration.

We toured the city wide and saw some devastation,

But things are coming back, that’s the revelation.

Out in Arizona, Becky’s close to her master’s degree,

Waited till the nest was empty, but never lost sight of the key.

Brandon’s finishing at junior college as editor of their publication,

Grant’s stepping out into the cruel world, two jobs worth of perspiration.

Missy’s recovering from a rear-ender, it’s been a lengthy struggle,

But she’s coming to our party, school and flights she’ll have to juggle.

Tyler’s cheering for UCF, and Kristin’s a beautiful teen,

Terry’s driving them up for Christmas, togetherness is really keen.

Virginia closed some prisons, and Paul’s job moved further west,

It’s not just the Army that suffers through the test.

Another bump in transition from job to career,

It’s tough on the family, but Sandy’s such a dear.

Josh is studying at Radford and Little Jack is quite the sport,

Found himself a girlfriend, shortly after we left port.

So much we have to be thankful for, each year brings us joy,

But it’s friends and family that count the most, they cause us to buoy.

So with blessings to everyone, and a life full of cheer,

Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year!

The Nobel Peace Prize in a Cracker Jack Box

2009-12-12T04:42:00Z

Yesterday, I listened to Barack Obama accept the Nobel Peace Prize. I don't understand why he was selected. I guess other countries and societies have their agendas too. But, I was delighted that during his speech, he didn't apologize for the conduct of the United States. Then, I thought, we have really sunk pretty low when I'm delighted that the President of the United States didn't insult our country in his remarks.

I liked what he said about justifying war. Whoever wrote his speech did a nice job. And President Obama is excellent at reading speeches. He also does an excellent job at Christmas tree lightings and Easter egg rolls. It kind of made me wish we had a government like Germany where the president merely officiates at functions. I would sleep better at night if I knew Obama was devoting all his energy toward the next state dinner.

But, if Obama was just the titular head and someone else was the chancellor or prime minister, who would that be? Some of the possible answers were so scary (Reed, Pelosi) that I gave up on the whole idea. Did I ever in my wildest dream think I would get to the place where Hillary Clinton looked good?

Tiger, Tell the Truth

2009-11-29T16:45:00Z

Sometime Friday, I was looking at the news on my computer and the lead article said Tiger Woods had been in a traffic accident and was in serious condition. Immediately, I thought of his career and whether the accident would keep him from competing. I'm a big Tiger fan and believe he has been wonderful for the resurgence of golf. Sometimes, I pull for the underdog, but I never cheer against Tiger.

Then, as the news trickled out, we found that Tiger had been treated at the hospital and released. That was good news. But, then everything flashed bizarre. The accident was at 2:25 AM Friday morning. He had run into a fire hydrant and a tree. Tiger fans are already questioning who had placed the fire hydrant at that location. Then, we find out that his wife, Elin, hearing the crash ran out of the house and broke the rear window out of his SUV with a golf club. Fans will be interested in which club she selected and what grip she used. She was able to extricate Tiger out of the rear of the vehicle.

We have been advised that alcohol was not involved in Tiger's crash. Again, good news. But efforts by the police on Friday and Saturday to obtain statements from Tiger and Elin have been unsuccessful. That is a shame. It takes some of us back to Chappaquiddick. Are they putting a story together? I hope not.

My advice to Tiger is to tell the truth. It can't be anywhere near as bad as being caught in a lie. They probably had a fight and he stormed out of the house. So what? Even the happiest of marriages have knock-down-drag-out fights.

Tell the truth Tiger. Me and your mother have already forgiven you.

Shart Sharts

2009-11-24T18:04:00Z

I received one of those humorous emails that tells certain idiosyncrasies about certain locations. This location was St. Louis. It said, "If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don't work there - you might live in St. Louis." "If you have a lengthy phone conversation with someone who dialed the wrong number - you might live in St. Louis."

Well, I took umbrage with one of them. It went, "If you take I farty-far to Six Flags - you might live in St. Louis. I grew up in the St. Louis area (over on the East Side), and will humbly admit that we pronounce our "ORs" as if they were "ARs." We eat carn on the cob and sometimes eat carn with a fark!

So, what am I upset about? We would never pronounce "four" as "far." We do just fine with "our," it's just "or" that we do a number on. So, if someone takes I farty-four to Six Flags - they might live in St. Louis. And, their daughters might be wearing shart sharts.

Now, the real purpose for this comment is to introduce a new category called Short Shorts. See, I do know how to spell it. This is my first one. They will never fill up a page. At times I would like to comment on current events, but by the time I get around to writing, it's no longer current. This should also help all my buddies with Attention Deficit Disorder.

Me and My Old Man

2009-11-06T20:39:00Z

I guess every young boy has vivid memories of his dad. I remember my dad climbing up a large Sycamore tree in our front yard. There weren't special boots or safety ropes back then. Or, if there were, he didn't use them. He just climbed from limb to limb until he was way up there. I think he trimmed some dead branches and then, he scurried down. I was fascinated. I thought Dad could do anything.

I also thought he was indestructible. When I was four or five, my dad was laying on the living room floor wrestling with my brother, Bill, and me. Bill was three years older and putting up most of the fight. I would dive in and Dad would toss me away and continue wrestling with Bill. After several unsuccessful ventures, I looked around and saw our set of encyclopedias. I pulled out the letter "M" book, sneeked behind Dad and whacked him over the head. Playtime was over. He might have been able to handle the letter "F" book, but there were too many words that started with "M." I didn't knock him out, but I definitely hurt him. He couldn't understand why I hit him. And, I couldn't tell him that I didn't think it would hurt him. It was a tough lesson

One of the things I loved to do was watch Dad shave. When he would come home from work, he would usually shave before dinner. Shaving then isn't like it is today. Then, it was an elaborate procedure which started with stropping the straight razor. Back and forth he would draw the razor over the razor strap. Then, there was the shaving soap and the shaving brush. No cans back then. He would lather up the brush and cover his beard with soap. Then, he would carefully bring the razor to his face and shave away. Knicks were commonplace back then, but Dad was good and seldom drew blood. I suspect Dad was performing for me and he definitely had an enraptured audience of one.

Later, Dad brought home a Rolls Razor, made in England. The container looked like an oversize sardine can. Inside the container was a razor that could be sharpened inside its metal box. He would open one side, lift up the handle and slide the blade back and forth against the bottom of the container. The bottom was a red leather strap. The handle would slide back and forth on tracks. Or, he could seal it up, flip it over and then the bottom was a gray honing stone. It took ten to 15 minutes just to sharpen the nickel plated blade. Shaving then followed the same ritual - shaving soap - shaving brush - strokes over the face and knicks.

Some time in the late Forties, Gillette came out with its Super Speed twist-to-open model. When the blade was no longer sharp, you threw it away and put in a new blade. The dawning of a new era. While I no longer watched enraptured (I already knew he wasn't indestructible), Dad kept me informed regarding each improvement. I still wasn't shaving, but it was great to see how everything worked.

In 1950, Gillette came out with the Blue Blade. It was stainless steel and seemed to be the consummate safety razor. Dad very seldom cut himself. I started shaving in the 50's and learned it wasn't as easy as it looked.

I should probably say that there were other companies out there making good safety razors, but Gillette, in my mind, was a family tradition. Even after I left home, Dad and I would discuss the latest shaving technology. Trac II came out in 1971 with two blades. We liked it. In 1977, the Atra came out with a swivel head. We liked it. Let's face it. We were easy. After shaving with a straight razor, Dad was fascinated with each improvement.

Whenever I hear about a straight razor, I think about the story my Uncle Bob would tell. When he was young, he would get his hair cut at a barber school. Barber students who were learning how to cut hair would practice on brave souls like Uncle Bob. The price was great, but not necessarily the results. Anyway, this young student was starting to shave around Bob's ears. A teacher walked up and said, "If you ever feel the razor slipping in your hand, don't grab for it or you'll cut his ear off." I told Uncle Bob, if I ever saw him looking lopsided, I would know what happened.

By the time the Gillette Sensor came out in 1990, with its spring-loaded blades, Dad was in his late seventies and not focusing much. Sometimes he remembered and sometimes he didn't. I wish I would have mentioned shaving to him. I'll bet that would have all come back to him.

Dad was gone when the Sensor 3 came out in 1995. I bought it and guess what? I liked it. I have purchased every new razor Gillette has brought out. But, I'm about ready to stop. First, I have a terrible time buying the right blades for my Gillette Fusion Power. I have brought home the wrong blades twice. I have thought about tattooing "FUSION POWER" on my knuckles, but what happens when the new model comes out. Then, I still have my old Mach 3 Turbo! Fortunately all of my mis purchased blades work in my Turbo. I think I like the Mach 3 Turbo better. It doesn't vibrate, but at my age, that's probably good.

At Christmas time in 2005, I bought my son the latest Gillette model. I was disappointed when he wasn't excited about it. It was dumb on my part. He didn't know the history and quite frankly, even the throw aways today probably do a pretty good job. I guess you had to watch the Old Man use the straight razor to be wildly impressed.

Its Got Snuggability!

2009-10-08T20:45:00Z

Only in America can somebody cut holes in a blanket and have the audacity to sell it as a "Snuggie." "One size fits all." You bet. When an item has no shape, of course, one size fits all. And you can talk on the phone without having to throw off your warm blanket, because you are wearing it.

It is also perfect for people on a diet who like to cheat, but don't want to get caught. You can hide a box of chocolate and a turkey leg inside the Snuggie and no one will be the wiser. They have now come out with a leopard skin patterned Snuggie. This is for the style conscious purchaser. And, with Veterans Day right around the corner, they should come out with a camouflage Snuggie. Hey kid, get your camouflage Snuggie and you will never have to go to bed on time again. Your parents won't be able to find you.

Snuggies need to steal the Bud Light punch line. "Snuggies are so popular, because they have snuggability." Not too light, not too heavy. That's snuggability!

I don't think Snuggies have pockets. I don't know why. It doesn't seem like such a leap to put a pocket or two on the Snuggie. Maybe this will come out for Christmas. With a pocket, you could take your Chia Pet with you. I have already figured out that the nuts who are buying Snuggies are the same nuts who already own a Chia Pet. Those are the pets that you water and grass or clover or something grows out of them. How about a Snuggie that when you water it, something --- No. Never mind.

Anyway, I went on line to see if Chia is still selling their pets. They are. They will now even sell you a bust of Homer Simpson where you can water his hair and green stuff will grow. Wait. There's more. You can also purchase a bust of President Obama. Again, you water and he grows green hair. I think this was personally approved by his environmental Czar. For $19.95, you get the bust, seed packets for three plantings, a plastic drip tray and instructions. It goes on to say that the teleprompter is not included.

I Can't Stand Consumers Union

2009-09-30T15:32:00Z

That's right, I can't stand Consumers Union (CU). Through their Consumer Reports magazine, they judge products and decide what the American public should buy. But, what if they are wrong, or worse, what if they have a bias against a particular product? Who sits in judgment to determine whether CU was correct? The answer is no one! And, believe me, they do have biases.

That is exactly what happened when they killed the Suzuki Samurai. All they needed to do was hold a press conference and declare that the Samurai "rolls over easily" and that then sparked the sale of their next Consumer Reports issue that declared the Samurai sport utility vehicle (SUV) was "not acceptable."

The product liability lawyers who financially support CU love such issues. They immediately started suing Suzuki. The news media, who never questions CU carried the CU/Samurai story and all of the evening news channels were showing the Samurai up on two wheels. Sales for the Samurai dropped from 81,000 in 1987 to just 5,000 two years later.

The CU report came out in 1988. And, believe me, no investigative reporter was digging into how the testing of the Samurai was conducted. Eight years later, when Consumer Reports, in an anniversary issue, celebrated the demise of the Samurai, George Ball, General Counsel for American Suzuki decided to sue CU for defamation and product disparagement. George took over in 1993 when the company was being devastated by Samurai law suits. All the expensive pretrial discovery was done and then the cases would be settled. George told me, "Jack, we are being raped by the plaintiff attorneys and fondled by the defense attorneys."

George decided to fight back. He assembled a strong defense team which would take certain selected cases to trial. I was fortunate to be part of the team providing advice on National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) issues. Of the four Samurai cases Suzuki took to trial, they won three of them. Cale Yarbough, a NASCAR champion, testified that the Samurai had excellent stability. In fact, he had one he used on his farm. The plaintiff lawyers moved elsewhere. It became too expensive and time consuming to sue Suzuki.

So in 1996, after suing CU and going through discovery, Suzuki finally found out how the Samurai was tested and how CU got it up on two wheels. CU went into the testing convinced that the Samurai would fail. Many of the CU VIPs came out to the track to watch the Samurai fail. The problem was it didn't. It reminds me of the Northern aristocrats who brought their basket lunches out to watch the North rout the South at the
first Battle of Bull Run.

CU's two professional drivers drove the little SUV through CU's accident avoidance course (the same course they had used to test previous SUVs). The Samurai preformed outstandingly! All 37 test runs were successful. The professional test drivers gave the Samurai high scores. The CU leadership was frustrated and allegedly comments were made about the need to tip up the Samurai. Then a non-professional executive for CU, David Pittle, got behind the wheel. His first nine runs went smoothly. Then, on his 10th run, Pittle took one turn too wide and in trying to get back on course, the Samurai tipped up on two wheels. Later watching and listening to the video tape, it was easy to hear those present cheering. Needless to say, that was the end of the testing for the day.

The CU staff then studied how Pittle (I pronounce it, Piddle) got the Samurai up on two wheels. They saw where he made his mistakes. Then, taking that information, they modified the obstacle course so as to insure the Samurai would fail. I said they gamed the test. George Ball said they rigged the test. Whatever you call it, it was despicable. Then with the "modified accident avoidance course," they ran the Samurai to its preordained tip up. It took a number of runs to tip it up, but they got it there. And, that was what everyone saw on the evening news.

The Center for Auto Safety, which has obvious links with CU, petitioned NHTSA to have the Samurai declared defective. NHTSA turned them down. NHTSA also mentioned that CU's so called "accident avoidance maneuver" test did not have a scientific basis (we subsequently learned that in spades) and could not be linked to real world crash avoidance needs, or actual crash data.

Now you know why I have no use for Consumers Union or Consumer Reports. I think what they did was corrupt and no one would have ever known if Suzuki hadn't sued. How many other Samurai cases are out there that no one knows about? How did the law suit come out? It went on for years. The trial judge kept dismissing the case and the Federal Appeals Court (in California, no less) would reverse and reinstate the case for trial. It eventually settled. I am not privy to the terms of the settlement. If I were, I wouldn't be able to tell you.

So because of my strong contempt for Consumers Union, life is more of a struggle. I can't use Consumer Reports as a crutch when I need to buy a new toaster or ice cream maker. I will probably survive.

Retirement, Now What? Who Cares?

2009-09-11T21:57:48Z

I was playing golf the other day and my partner asked me, "Jack, now that you are retired, how are you occupying your time?" It took me too long to respond. I finally mentioned golf and my blog. But, any of you who keep track of my blog know that I haven't been spending a hell of a lot of time on it. So, I decided to give some serious thought to this weighty issue.

I decided I feel pretty busy, but I know I'm not. I'm just letting the meager tasks I have fill up my time. Can you imagine how little pressure I feel? It's great! Am I capable of doing more? You bet. But, deep down inside, I would resent having to shift gears.

I read a lot. Once in a while, I read a worthy book, like Collin Powell's "My American Journey", or "1776" by David McCullough. But, not very often. I would rather read about Western heroes taking on incredible odds, like Louis L'Amour Sacketts, or Detectives like Michael Connelly's Harry Bosch catching the bad guys at great risk to life and limb. Oh, and I want a happy ending - none of this Message in a Bottle crap where the hero dies in the end. If I want heartache and sorrow, I'll pick up the newspaper. I read terribly slow, so reading is a commitment and my effort deserves a happy ending.

I study and play chess. I have some great books on chess openings and even some kind of an on-line study program. I am the proud owner of three computer chess games. Each one is more sophisticated than the previously purchased one. There lies the rub. I hate to lose. One chess computer I can beat almost all the time. One I can beat about half the time, and my most sophisticated chess computer beats me like a rug (even at its lowest level). It is also impossible to play head games with a computer. But, it plays head games with me. I take 3-5 minutes to make my move and bam! It answers in two seconds. Why couldn't they have sent me one with a defective knight?

I am careful about playing chess. I think chess can be a sickness like drugs or alcohol and you can end up doing nothing but playing chess and dribbling out of the corner of your mouth. Bobby Fischer is one of the basket cases I can cite. So, I play intensely for a couple of weeks and then I step away (probably because I have lost two or three in a row). I hate losing

Have you noticed a theme? Never lose, happy endings. It is something to strive for. How about never getting sick? That's too much to ask for.

Being retired also provides us with the time we need to take care of our medical problems. It takes me a certain amount of time just to organize my pills for the week. Then, if I could just remember to take them.

The only special project I have taken on is fighting to keep 36 holes of golf at Fort Belvoir. Some three-bags-full bureaucrat decided 27 holes were enough. As you might know, the Army is going to position the Army Museum on the front nine of our Gunston course. I devoted a number of hours to shooting down the Army's first draft environmental assessment. We are about due for the revised draft EA. I'll get another shot at this one, but I've already written about this before (The Army is Gobbling Up Golf Courses at Fort Belvoir), so I'll pass on.

The bottom line is that if tomorrow someone asks me how I am occupying my time in retirement, I will probably pause too long in responding. But, I won't be concerned. I'm having too much fun.

Dreams and Schemes

2009-09-02T15:20:00Z

I seem to be dreaming more. Maybe it is because I am sleeping more. The retired life doesn't require as many 0-dark-30 mornings.

My dreams are really stupid, but at least they aren't scary anymore. I think we have all had that dream where someone or something was after us AND we could not move. You want to run, but you can't. Usually, when you wake up, you find that your legs are so tangled in the sheet that you can't move. On one occasion, I kicked off all my covers defending myself. My bunk mate is still nimble enough to avoid my arms and legs when the war is on.

I think my favorite dream is when I can fly. I just lean in a certain direction and up I go. I don't accomplish squat, but it's pretty cool. My dreams are so short and choppy that I can't remember much about my flights. Don't know where or when. I am always disappointed when I wake up and find myself grounded.

I spend a lot of time in my dreams losing things. I can't find my car or my golf clubs or suitcases. I go back to where they were and they're not there. On the way, I bump into old friends who are no help in finding my stuff. I also spend a lot of time trying to find my room in hotels. It's like a Harry Potter movie where all the stairs shift. For some reason I always think I know where I am going, but I never get there. Hotel elevators take me strange places, but never to the floor where my room is supposed to be located.

The good news is that when things really go South, I tell myself, "this has got to be a dream." Yes, I do! And, I wake up. Isn't that neat? When your house is about to be consumed by flames and the fireman says, "You have to leave now." And, I say, "I think I'll just wake up.

I don't think I have ever had a dream worth evaluating. There was the one where our President told us that under his health care program we would all live to be 150 years old and never be sick a day. Maybe that is why it will cost less.

I'm trying to think if I was ever on a plane in one of my dreams. I really don't think so. But, who needs a plane when you can fly?

Write Your Local Representative

2009-08-12T13:37:00Z

Yes, I did. I wrote my Congressman. This health care legislation should have everyone expressing their view. The idea of pushing through some massive program which no one completely understands or knows what will be the effect in five years is sheer folly.

I really don't expect my Congressman to even read my letter, but I feel better about sending it. My correspondence will probably be a check in a box somewhere. But, who knows?   I put it down below. I tried to be on point and not too angry. I was mostly successful. You can decide for yourself.

Dear Congressman Connolly,

I received your recent correspondence encouraging us to contact you if we needed help in dealing with the Government bureaucracy. I appreciate your interest.

My problem is with what is happening in Congress regarding health care. At the present time, I am retired military and over 65. So my wife and I received Medicare and Tri-Care for Life. I personally believe that these medical benefits came as a promise from my country for serving for 28 years. I am convinced that any new health care legislation will reduce our benefits. I've seen draft language where we would be required to make co-payments for our Tri-Care. This goes back on the promise to the military.

I don't accept promises from President Obama on health benefits. His promise that the military won't be touched rings hollow. He promised no more "pork" in legislation. Now, he acts like he never said it. His administration was not going to include lobbyists. That also went by the wayside. "No more business as usual." You see why when he promises Tri-Care won't be touched, I cringe.

President Obama has me very disturbed. His plan to take from the rich and give to the poor is ridiculous for a number of reasons. First, Robin Hood was fiction. Not bad fiction, but fiction. Secondly, there is no way the Government can take enough from the rich to pay for all the poor in the health care arena. I am convinced this is marching towards Socialism.

President Obama says there are 50,000,000 in our country without health care insurance. I suspect a not insignificant number of them are illegal aliens. I don't want to pay for the health care of people who snuck into this country. He says we can add these 50,000,000 to our health care rolls and do it more economically. "We will be more efficient."  That is such an old and hackneyed expression. Please don't support the President on health care legislation that will end up taking money from one group and giving to another, with the Government deciding issues that should be between the doctor and the patient.

Any legislation as significant as universal health care should be bipartisan. Start with small steps, not with something that is so large, no one can understand the repercussions until it is too late. I would be interested in knowing where you stand. Please don't be a minion for the Speaker. It is not in the best interest of your constituents nor yourself.

Very truly yours,

Yo Prez - Calibrate This

2009-08-01T14:51:00Z

Somewhere in my youth, I was told that it takes a big man to admit he is wrong. So I bought into that. Some days, I would get bigger and bigger as the day progressed.

So, why can't the President admit when he is wrong or does something stupid? Why can't he just admit he goofed when he bowed to the king of Saudi Arabia? To have his people come out and say he didn't bow makes them all look stupid and untrustworthy. Anyone who saw the pictures or video knows he bowed. Hey, its a goof, but it's not a big deal. Lying is a big deal.

The bowing incident reminds me of the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale, "The Emperor's New Clothes." Does Obama really believe he didn't bow? Does he believe anyone believes him? I think he is just too arrogant to admit his mistakes.

Then, he screws up by pronouncing that the Boston police acted stupidly. He prefaced his comment by saying he didn't have the facts. He should have stopped right there. Then he wouldn't have acted stupidly. Then, he was surprised that it became a big deal. He stated that he could have calibrated his words differently. What does that mean? Acted foolishly, sillily, unwisely, injudiciously, imprudently, witlessly? What calibration are we talking about?

The big loser is probably Professor Gates, who, after the beer fest, saw his racial profiling best-seller book go up in smoke.

I can't wait for the next Presidential press conference. I am very interested in what President Obama thinks about the Cleveland Indians trading away their star Catcher, Victor Martinez, the day before the Indians were to celebrate Victor Martinez Bobblehead Night at Progressive Field. I sure hope he can get this one properly calibrated.

You Can't Get There from Here (almost)

2009-07-13T23:34:00Z

For our 50th Wedding Anniversary, we were taking our kids and grandkids on an Alaskan cruise. We had been planning the event for over a year. Coaxing, encouraging and mildly threatening all to attend. Talk about herding cats. When children are grown and have their own families, interests and obligations spiral in many directions. That's why we started early, coaxing, prodding and even playing the guilt card.

Well, it worked, and with a couple of months to go, everyone had made their plans and had their passports. Becky and Eddie and the two grown kids were driving from Prescott Valley, Arizona to Vancouver. Paul and Sandy and their two kids were flying in two days early from Roanoke, Virginia, to see a little of Vancouver. Missy and Terry and their two kids were flying in the day before the cruise from Jacksonville, Florida. We were also flying in the day before from Springfield, Virginia. It turned out that we were scheduled to be on the same plane with Missy and her family from Chicago to Vancouver.

One of the basic rules of flying is avoid Chicago during the summer. Well, Carole and I eventually did.

Our United flight was to depart from Reagan National at 9:30 AM to Chicago. Our philosophy is we would rather get to the airport early and wait, than have something go wrong. Our neighbor, Jim Vancini, graciously gave us a ride to the airport. We arrived at 7:15 AM and checked in. We had used frequent flyer miles to upgrade. We were informed at the counter that we were flying Ted, not United, to Chicago and there were no first class seats on Ted. Our first class seats from Chicago to Vancouver had also disappeared. Then the plane was delayed until 10:24 AM. As we only had one hour to make our connection in Chicago, it looked like we would miss it.

I am usually an optimist and I figured if our flight was late, maybe the flight to Vancouver would also be delayed. Missy and family (minus one), who had arrived in Chicago, confirmed that the Vancouver flight had been pushed back. Tyler, Missy's son, had a last minute mandatory university obligation, which dropped him from the trip.

After we were on board and in the queue to take off, the captain came on the intercom and told us they had "weather" in Chicago and we had been put on "hold." We sat for 30 minutes and then the captain came on again and advised that they had shut down the Chicago tower because of a possible tornado. What a helpless feeling. We couldn't get back to our gate because it was occupied by another plane. So, we sat.

A little before noon, we taxied back to the gate. I had spoken to a flight attendant about our 50th wedding anniversary cruise and they were concerned. One of them said they would talk to an agent about a flight from Dulles to Seattle which might help us. When the plane got back to the gate, a very helpful manager hooked us up with an agent. The Seattle flight had already departed. BUT, Air Canada (an affiliate of United) had a flight to Toronto where we could connect to Vancouver. While it took an hour and a half, the crew actually got our luggage off of the Chicago flight. The flight to Toronto departed at 5:45 PM, so, again, we had plenty of time.

We picked up our luggage, checked in with Air Canada, had a leisurely lunch and went back through security. We were getting good at many of these tasks. We could see the light at the end of the tunnel. And, from then on, everything went relatively well. In Toronto, we sat on the plane for over an hour waiting for connecting passengers and then the push-back vehicle wouldn't work. I had visions of something getting broken. But by 9:30 PM, Carole and I were in the air, destination Vancouver.

Missy, Terry and Kristin had not been so fortunate. Our last call from Missy told us that all flights out of Chicago had been canceled. They had been booked on an early flight the next day to Denver with a connecting flight to Vancouver. The next morning when they got to the airport, they found out the Denver flight had been delayed so that they could not make the Denver to Vancouver flight. Did I earlier mention helpless feelings. It is a helpless feeling when you can't get from here to there.

Terry went up and talked to a United agent about their plight and the next thing he was frantically waiving to Missy and Kristin. It turned out that because of all the canceled flights the day before, United had put on an additional flight from Chicago direct to Vancouver! They were seated in the first class section and away they went. Of course, their luggage was still waiting for the Denver flight. But, we all made the ship. Missy's last suitcase showed up two days later when we docked in Icy Straits, Alaska.

The anniversary cruise was everything we planned for and expected. There were only two mandatory formations, the life boat drill and the family photo session. That will be this years Christmas card - no not the life boat drill.

Fifty Years Together

2009-06-11T20:57:00Z

Carole and I celebrated our 50th Wedding Anniversary on the 6th of June. It always reminds me of the old guy who just completed 50 years of marriage and was asked how he felt about it. He said, "Well, it's been OK, but I wouldn't want to do it for another 50 years."

Love is different after 50 years than it was after two years. Brad Paisley has a number one country hit out right now and it is entitled, "Then." The lines that struck me are as follows: "Now you're my whole life, Now you're my whole world, I just can't believe the way I feel about you girl. We'll look back some day at this moment that we're in, And I'll look at you and say, And I thought I loved you then."

Fifty Years Together

To Carole, my Carole, my very special potion,
I give you my love and all my devotion.
For fifty years we've traveled the journey,
Together through law school, then as an attorney

Twenty-eight years in the Army, some happy, some sad,
We struggled with Fat Charlie, now that was bad.
Two tours in Germany, a separation in Nam.
But, excitement a plenty, all we could cram.

A child in law school, a child at Fort Hood,
A child in Germany, a surprise, but good.
We raised our children from post to post,
They've made us proud, of that we boast.

We've been partners together when decisions were made,
Like our career in the Army, we carefully weighed.
Some were traumatic, not made with glee,
Like the wrenching decision to come back to D.C.

You're still the queen I love to embrace,
With your beautiful hair and lovely face.
With your soft skin and complexion so fair,
A delight to look at, someone so rare.

Life's not always rosy, there are times when we fought,
Over things that I've done, and things that you've bought.
I'm writing this poem to express my devotion,
To the love of my life, with your constant commotion.
But, we're always a pair, a perfect blend,
You're my partner, my love and my very best friend.

RAJA in the Big Easy

2009-05-31T21:27:00Z

Life is good. Over the Memorial Day holiday a large number of retired Army JAGs descended on New Orleans for our annual RAJA meeting. We assembled at the Hotel Monteleone right smack in the French Quarter.

Expensive? Not really and remember, we all have Army retirement checks and most of us are on Social Security. Plus, we got our Social Security stimulus checks. So, we stimulated the New Orleans' economy.

Dennis and Jeanne Hunt hosted RAJA (Retired Army Judge Advocate Association - maybe it should be RAJAA - not the kind of issue you want to raise in an organization consisting only of lawyers). I was planning on saying that Dennis and Jeanne's planning and execution were as efficient as Mussolini's on-time trains. But, then I looked it up on Snopes.com and the Mussolini bit is a myth. Man, I think I was happier before Snopes. Anyway, Dennis and Jeanne did a fantastic job!

On the first full day, we toured New Orleans. Of course, if you are going to tour the Big Easy, you have to visit one of their cemeteries. As you probably know, because of the water level, all of the caskets are placed in above-ground tombs. Our tour guide explained the process of removing old remains to make room for the new deceased member of the family. I think you have to live your whole life in New Orleans to go along with that process. After hearing of the process, all I could think of was the Church Lady on Saturday Night Live saying, "Isn't that special."

Our tour guide told us that we were at the cemetery (St. Louis Cemetery # 1) that was damaged and desecrated during the filming of the movie, Easy Rider. I don't remember the cemetery scene. I only remember that the movie had a happy ending. There were no complaints from residents of the cemeteries about Katrina. But, some of those same residents are still receiving relief checks.

The bus trip took all day and we never left the city. But, I had no idea where I was. The tour guide would say, "The river is on our left." "Now, the river is on our right." "The lake is behind you." "This area was all under water." Duh, big help.

It has been almost four years since Katrina and the parts of the city we looked at showed great signs of recovery. But, who knows what we didn't see. The amount of human suffering that went on during the storm and its aftermath is impossible to quantify. Let's hope that the lesson we took away from Katrina will insure it doesn't happen again (Not the natural disaster, but the way we handled it).

RAJA was a great success. Tim Naccarato is the third leader of this august body. John Jay Douglass was the president for the first twenty plus years. He and Bruce Babbitt ran the financials for the organization on the back of an envelope. Now that takes skill. Anyway, in 1994, while in Reno, Nevada the organization rolled the dice and selected a board of directors to carry the group forward. Jim Mundt was selected to take John Jay's place and RAJA moved forward.

Then, in 2005, Tim took the reins. One of the first things he did was do away with the cumbersome site selection committee. Tim now twists arms until someone agrees to host a future meeting. This is much more effective that the site selection committee. Because everyone knows what he is up to, a lot of his emails are never answered. But, he has lined up Steve and Pauline Lancaster to host next year in Indianapolis, and Dave and Lynn Graham and Fred and Janet Borch to host 2011 in Charlottesville, the Home of the Army Lawyer. In a weak moment Tim convinced Mike Marchand to host 2012 in Dallas. Please keep the latter confidential, because Mike hasn't told his wife, Jan, yet.

Well, RAJA survived New Orleans, and New Orleans survived RAJA. No surprises there. Sadly, the only lesson I took away from the meeting is that I don't want to be buried in New Orleans. Because it is a given that sometime in the future, someone is going to break into your casket, gather your bones and pitch them to make room for a new visitor. Yuk.

Fort Belvior is Gobbling Up Golf Courses

2009-05-11T18:33:00Z

When I was a little kid, I learned that if I broke something that belonged to another kid, I had to pay for it or replace it. That's just fair. Fairness is a good standard by which to live your life. I have really tried to do so. Of course, what I think is fair, someone else may not. It can be subjective. So you be my objective voice and let me know what you think about the following.

The Army seems to be gobbling up the golf courses at Fort Belvoir and not replacing them or providing restitution. I don't think that is fair. Fort Belvoir had a delightful nine hole course on the South Post. It was pretty flat and open and not too long. It was ideal for young soldiers learning how to play and elderly people who wanted to walk the course and get some exercise. Then the Army decided it needed a newer, larger hospital and began to build on the South Nine. The South Nine Golf Course disappeared.

Now, you might say, "Hey, the Army can do what it wants with its property." But all Army property is not the same. The South Nine Golf Course was a nonappropriated fund (NAF) property. When I was an instructor at The JAG School in Charlottesville, Virginia, back in the early 70's, I taught a one-hour course called Nonappropriated Funds. It was really deadly. It may have been the deadliest course at the School. But, the students needed to know that all funds were not appropriated by Congress. The Post Exchange and other programs generated money for the benefit of the troops. That money was nonappropriated funds and the Army was to use the funds for the morale, welfare and recreation of the troops and their dependents. I would tell the students, who were still awake, that the Army held the nonappropriated funds in trust for the morale and welfare of soldiers and their dependents. They can't take it away or give it away without restitution.

Not too long ago, there was a Corps of Engineer project that, in effect, would wipe out a soccer field at Fort Belvoir. So before the field was destroyed, the Post make arrangements to build another soccer field to replace the one that was being destroyed. Now, that's how I believe the system should work. The soccer field was a nonappropriated fund property (morale, welfare and recreation - MWR) and the Army met its obligation as trustee of the MWR funds by making restitution in kind. However, it didn't work that way with the South Nine Golf Course. The only distinction between the two situations is that they had soccer moms!

Now, the Army has its sights set on building the National Museum of the United States Army (NMUSA) on the front nine of the Gunston Golf Course on the North Post at Fort Belvoir. Fort Belvoir has two adjoining golf courses on the North Post, Gunston and Woodlawn. Both are championship length courses. I don't want to get into site selection. Obviously, I didn't want them putting the museum on my golf course. But, well-meaning officials decided to put it there. But, what about restitution? What about holding in trust morale, welfare and recreation property (paid for with nonappropriated funds) for soldiers and their dependents? Some not-so-well-meaning officials decided that Fort Belvoir only needed 27 holes.

Two years ago, we had 45 holes. Now, they are talking about 27 holes. I can just hear the conversation. The commander asks, "Can they get by with 27 holes?" And, the staff says, "Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full." What about holding NAF property in trust? What about restitution? Where are their heads? I know I keep repeating myself. I can't help it. I keep frothing at the mouth and by the time I get myself cleaned up, I just start over again. Fairness, restitution, fairness. I'll be back in a minute.

The money for the museum is supposed to come mostly from donations. It ain't happening. In 2007, they had contributions of over five million dollars, but they had expenses of over three million. They aren't going to get to $200 million that way. I donated early on, so I have received a lot of their subsequent solicitations. In my opinion, the solicitations are too expensive and slick. The last time I observed such slick solicitations was the Ollie North campaign for senator.

Please understand that I am all in favor of an Army museum. If it has to be on the Gunston front nine, so be it (the latest drawings have them encroaching on holes 11 and 12 on the back nine for a parking lot). But, please rework the Gunston Course along with the museum. That is only fair and it will keep the Army from looking like a negligent fiduciary (or worse).

There was an Army funded feasibility study completed in November 2008 regarding whether 27 holes would be sufficient. In all fairness, this should have been done before the "three bags full" decision. The study concluded that the course, reduced to 27 holes could lose over a quarter of a million dollars a year. So I think we are going to end up with approval for 36 holes, but no money to build them. The money should come from the Army. The Army is holding the Gunston Course in trust (here I go again). The Army needs to make restitution.

Here is the scenario I see. The Army breaks ground on construction on time. They have already been drilling for core samples on the front nine, even though the environmental assessment hasn't been approved to select the location. And, of course, the environmental assessment will have alternate selection sites as it is required, even though the Army has pushed ahead and selected the Gunston site. Is that legal? I used to teach Environmental Law, but it was too may moons ago. I see them tearing up the course and then, not having the money to build the museum.

I'm not the only one who thinks there won't be enough donations. The AUSA (Association of the United States Army), a private organization focused on the best interests of the Army, has just submitted a legislative resolution to Congress. It requests Congress to "provide funding for the facility at Fort Belvoir, Virginia to house the National Museum of the United States Army."

If Congress funds the museum, I hope there is some extra in there to make the Gunston Course whole. The restitution I am talking about should be part of the over all museum project. That is the only fair solution.

The Case of the Missing Check

2009-05-04T18:25:00Z

I've mentioned before about my year at Northwestern University School of Law. I mentioned that I earned an LL.M. in Criminal Law, but I never mentioned what I had to do to get the degree. I had to earn 12 hours and write a thesis. Six of those hours (and 90% of my time) came from carrying a case load down at the Cook County Jail.

There were about nine of us in the graduate program and we were assigned to represent "clients" at the jail. We were like public defenders, but with a very limited case load. My observation of the public defenders was that they had so many clients that many of them couldn't represent any of their clients very well.

Bill Martin was our program leader. No, he never managed the Yankees. But, what he did do was prosecute Richard Speck for raping and murdering eight Filipino student nurses in Chicago. The police found Speck's finger print on the inside of a closet door from the nurses' apartment. Bill introduced the entire door into evidence. Talk about demonstrative evidence. It took the jury 49 minutes to find Speck guilty and recommend his execution. Anyway, by 1969, Bill Martin had left the State's Attorneys Office and was teaching at Northernwestern Law. The Ford Foundation was funding the graduate criminal defense program to which I was attached.

Probably the most significant case we defended during the year involved a felony murder charge. A black man came into a jewelry store and attempted to cash a Park Department pay check. He ended up robbing the store and killing the owner. Our client, Eugene Overstreet, worked for the Park Department and his name was on the check (the check was gratuitously left behind at the scene of the crime). Overstreet insisted he never received the check. The wife of the dead owner identified Overstreet in a police lineup as the robber/murderer.

Bill Martin actually took the lead in defending Overstreet, but a number of us in the program worked different angles of the case. One of my tasks was to try to find out what happened to the check. If the prosecution could put the check in Overstreet's hands, we could fold our tent and slip silently into the night.

How does one get a city job with the Park Department? Keep in mind that this is Chicago. The answer is you go see your Ward Committeeman. Overstreet knew a committeeman and was able to get the Park Department job. The problem was that he didn't live in the committeeman's ward. Let's face it, if the system is going to work, you have to live in the ward where you are being sponsored. In order to help Overstreet out and stay within the "rules," the committeeman let Overstreet use his street address on the job application. Now, Overstreet "lived" in the right ward.

As fate would have it, Overstreet copied the street address incorrectly. The address he put down was to a vacant lot. Overstreet didn't know this, but it was not a problem because, on payday, he would pick up the check at the Park Department Office.

Regarding the check in question, Overstreet was somewhere else on pay day. When he came in the next day to pick up his check, he was told it already had been mailed. When he checked with the committeeman, he was advised that he hadn't received the check. We could verify all of the above facts. We also discovered the error in the mailing address.

Bill Martin asked me and Ty Fahner to track the route of the check. Ty subsequently became the Attorney General for the State of Illinois and is presently a partner with Mayer Brown. We suspected that if someone at the Post Office knew that the Park Department check was going to a vacant lot, they might just put it in their pocket. Chicago's main post office was, at the time, one of the largest post offices in the world. It was a monster. With the help of a postal official, we started at the end of the building where the mail came in and followed the route the letter/check would have taken through the building. I should have worn gym shoes.

Even back in the late sixties, the post office had sophisticated equipment to send letters on their way. A letter would be picked up by an automated arm and the operator would type in the zip code. Then the arm would place the letter on a conveyor belt and away it would go. Somewhere down the line, it would end up in the proper basket. The final sorting, however, was done just like Ben Franklin did it when he was the Postmaster for Philadelphia in 1763. Someone stood in front of a bunch of cubby holes and flipped in the mail. We learned that the individuals assigned to sort mail for a particular area did not live in that area. Thus, they would not know of a vacant lot.

Of course, the mailman would know. When we spoke to him, he was convincing that he had received no mail to deliver to the vacant lot. So we never could prove who took the letter, but with the help of the testimony of two post office officials we were able to satisfy the court that Overstreet never received the check.

Bill Martin convinced Overstreet to be tried by judge alone (no jury). Since it was the check that put Overstreet at the scene of the crime, the case disassembled. The eye witness testimony proved not to be a problem. After the judge acquitted Overstreet, he told Bill that if he ever got in trouble, he hoped he could afford Bill's representation. Hey, what about the gang of nine?

Bloggidy Blog Blog

2009-04-18T00:19:00Z

I'm trying to figure out what's happening. When I was on active duty, I used to write columns for the Post newspaper and even in the local town paper. After I retired, I missed not being published. So, here I am, a blogger.

If a blogger blogs and nobody reads it, does it make less noise than the unheard tree falling in the forest? Deep huh? Well, my webmeister is GoDaddy.Com. They help me out by keeping statistics on how many hits I am getting (and even which articles are most popular).

I check the stats all the time and about four months ago, they changed their statistical format. The new system is called "new statistics tool". But, they haven't done away with the old system. They now call the old system "classic statistics tool". Does that sound familiar? I think that is exactly what Coke did.

The "classic" tool and the "new" tool never jibe. Their techs have explained to me that "hits" and "views" are different. OK, I guess it is better to get a view that a hit. Before writing this, I decided to make it my quest to understand the difference. Now, I understand more, but I am sorry that I do. It appears that the "new statistics tool" does not include visits to my site "from web crawling bots." I had no idea that web crawling bots were looking at my blog site. If I write something funny, will a web crawling bot laugh? For that and other reasons, I am going to be more careful what I write. I wonder if the web crawling bots are anything like the critters in The Matrix.

As I mentioned, I can keep track of how many hits I get each day and also, what blogs people are reading. If you Google "green visor," Ricequips comes up. And, I have a lot of hits from people trying to find the elusive green visor. Then, I published a poem about Wayne and Marie Alley. You may not know who they are, but, I guess there are a lot of people who do. I get a lot of hits on Wayne and Marie. I suspect they come from real people. I don't think Wayne and Marie know any web crawling bots.

In February, 2008, I wrote a blog entitled "Bomb Threats at Washington Square." It's filed under The Fox. It tells about a maddening summer back in 1997, when crank bomb threats were called into our building. We would evacuate for hours, three to four times a week. I thought it was a cute story, but I'm not fair and impartial (like Fox News). Well, here it is over a year later and all of a sudden, I'm getting over 50 hits each day. What's going on? Are these people or critters?

I know with the search engines out there, titles are important (that's why I worked so long and hard to get this one just right). For example, if I mention in the title, "child seat safety," there would be a large number of well-meaning consumer groups who would scrutinize every word. Now, I mentioned "bomb threats." Are terrorists interested in that? I doubt it. What really scares me is that our Government may be interested in people writing about bomb threats. That's all I need. "No, no, not the water board again!"

I'll bet the answer is less sinister than I have conjured up. I mentioned my old boss, Jerry Curry and how, at that time, he was running for President. Maybe the Curry fans found the blog. Then, there is also the possibility that I have finally been discovered by someone other that the web crawling bots.

For a limited time, you can still subscribe to Ricequips.com for FREE. Just what this country needs in this time of economic strife.

Washington Capitals, Celebration, Castigation, Huh?

2009-03-30T20:31:00Z

On March 19, 2009, the Washington Capitals beat the Tampa Bay Lightning 5-2. In the first period, Alex Ovechkin, the Capitals' star and last year's league MVP notched his 50th goal. After the goal, he celebrated by dropping his stick and acting as if it were too hot to pick up. If we were talking about the NFL, this would not be worth mentioning, but in hockey, you can knock out the opponent's front teeth, but you shouldn't be over zealous in celebrating a goal.

The coach for Tampa Bay is Rick Tocchet. He was upset about the celebration and said, "I grew up in the old days in the Spectrum [Philly arena] where in the first period, after that happened, it might have been a three-hour first period." There are three periods in a hockey game. Each lasts twenty minutes on the clock. It usually takes 30 - 40 minutes to play a period. Tocchet's three-hour period would have consisted mostly of brawling. Blood on the ice is consistent with hockey etiquette.

The name Rick Tocchet sets me off. Back in March 1997 (so what if it was 12 years ago), the Capitals entered into a trade with Boston which brought Adam Oates and Rick Tocchet to Washington. Oates showed up and became a big part of the Capitals. Tocchet let it be known that he didn't want to be here and left the first chance he got. He mentioned that he had played in Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Boston and wanted to play where there was a rich hockey tradition. I felt bad, but I understood that Washington, back then, did not have a "rich hockey tradition." So where did Tocchet go? He went to Phoenix! In the term "rich hockey tradition," the emphasis was on the word "rich." Where will I get the most bucks.

My personal view on the "hot stick celebration" is that it was probably too close to the Tampa Bay goalie. Using an NFL analogy, you don't spike the football at the feet of the defensive safety. I don't think there was any intention to embarrass the goalie, but, Alex, move a little farther away. But to have Rick Tocchet playing the roll of the righteous indignant observer boggles my mind.

In February 2006, Tocchet was served with a criminal complaint accusing him of financing a nationwide sports gambling ring based in New Jersey. Janet Jones, the Great Gretzky's wife, was also charged. In May 2006, Tocchet and Jones notified New Jersey that they intended to sue for 50 million dollars for defamation (back before the Obama Administration, that used to be a lot of money). Anyway, the ploy didn't work.

On May 25, 2007, Tocchet pleaded guilty to conspiracy and promoting gambling. It's unfortunate when one is caught conducting criminal activity, but if someone is over zealous in celebrating a goal, then one is required to indignantly speak out.

Tocchet said that Ovechkin "went down a notch in my books." Well, I only have one such book and Tocchet can't get much lower. I will try not to be too over zealous in my celebration when Tampa Bay (24-52) fires him.

It's Tough Being a MIZZOU Fan

2009-03-17T20:37:00Z

I have a large magnetic helmet that I slap on the side of my car door during football season. The helmet has a block "M" on it. Periodically, someone will ask me when I went to Michigan. What idiots. There is probably no helmet more distinctive that Michigan's and it certainly doesn't have a block "M".

It's tough being a Mizzou fan out here on the East coast. The Washington Post thinks any game played West of the Mississippi is a late start and they don't post the score.

The NCAA tournament is getting ready to start and you can bet that the TV announcers will be showing the UCLA victory over Mizzou in 1995. We are always the backdrop for some sensational or outrageous play.

In the UCLA game, we were ahead by one point and there were 4.8 seconds left in the game. UCLA's Tyus Edney got the ball under his own basket and raced down the court dodging Mizzou players. He threw the ball up and scored just before the buzzer. UCLA 75, Mizzou 74. I'll get to see that play at least five time in the next few weeks. Hey, it was 14 years ago. Give it a rest.

Did I mention that UCLA went on to win the NCAA championship that year. Always the backdrop. I got to thinking. I'll bet that damn thing is on You Tube. Once you start thinking like that it's kind of hard not to look. Yep, it's there.

In 1990, the Colorado Buffaloes were declared the college football national champions. Would you like to hazard a guess as to whom they beat on the last play of the game, which happened to be their fifth down? You are right. It was Mizzou. We got stuck with officials who couldn't court past four.

After Colorado completed a pass and got a first down, the quarterback raced up and spiked the ball (down one). They then ran a play and failed to score (down two). Colorado called its last time out. An official on the sideline failed to flip the down marker. Colorado ran the ball again and Mizzou held (down three). Then the QB spiked the ball again (down four!). And, on the fifth down, Colorado scored to win the game.

My son, Paul, was at the game and he and many of the fans in the student section knew it was fifth down. But who is going to listen to the screams of the student section? It would have been nice if one of the Mizzou coaches would have known what down it was. I refuse to look on You Tube. It's too depressing.

I've got to get this over fast. Reliving these moments is not healthy. In 1997, Mizzou is beating Nebraska and Big Red is down to its last play. A pass is thrown to Nebraska's Wiggins in the end zone. Mizzou's Julien Jones slaps the ball free from Wiggins' hands. Just before the ball hits the ground, Wiggins kicks the ball up in the air (you can't to that) and another Nebraska player dives and catches the ball. I thought it touched the ground, but there was no instant replay in 1997 and some official who was concentrating on getting the downs right called it a touchdown. That tied the game and Nebraska prevailed in overtime.

In recent years, things have gotten better. Our football teams have been winning (and beating up on Nebraska). Mizzou's basketball team is having a great year. We are seeded third in the NCAA tournament with a 28-6 record. We just won the Big 12 Tournament so I flipped open the Washington Post to see what it had to say about our beating Baylor for the championship. The headline said, "Baylor's Big 12 Run is Halted in Title Game." Well that's the Washington Post.

I decided to go on line and see what the St. Louis Post-Dispatch had to say. I needed something warm and fuzzy. So, how does the Post-Dispatch headline read? I couldn't make this up. It says, "It's back to Boise for No. 3 seed Mizzou. Tigers return to site of their heartbreaking loss to UCLA in 1995." Enough already! Enough!

Child Seat Safety and the Plight of the Manufacturer

2009-03-09T00:12:00Z

The question I have is why would anyone want to manufacture child safety seats? It makes about as much sense as being a bull rider. Bull riding probably makes more sense, because they are quite popular and do very well with the ladies, until they get stomped on a few times. Child seat manufacturers need only look forward to being stomped.

Don't get me wrong. I think child seats are wonderful. Any parent who doesn't put their infant in a child seat should have their head examined. Child safety seats save lives. But, manufacturers take on great risks in selling them.

First, the seat has to comply with Federal standards. There's a crash test to ensure the seat and child will survive a crash. There are buckle tests to ensure that buckles don't open too easily, but will open after a crash. They need to have appropriate hardware which will attach to the cars they are put in. Those clasps have to be able to withstand so many pounds of pressure that might occur in a crash. The straps have to pass strength tests and all the fabrics have to pass stringent flammability tests.

Is that so unreasonable? I don't think so. The manufactures accept the requirements as their responsibility. They want to make a safe product. They test their seats to ensure that they comply with all the requirements.

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) is responsible for setting the standards. When I was Chief Counsel for the agency, we tested every new seat to every standard. We were hyper over child seat safety. If there was a problem, usually the manufacturer stepped up and recalled the product. But, some manufacturers just stopped making child seats.

Then, there's the litigation involved in child seats. If there is a crash and a child secured in a child seat is injured, you can pretty much bet on a law suit. It doesn't matter how many cars were involved, or the speed of the vehicles, or the direction of impact, the company will be sued. Litigation is one of our national pastimes. While some times it is definitely justified, many times it is not.

I remember a case where a man's wife died when she rolled the car and it went off an overpass. It landed on its roof. He sued the car manufacturer because the air bag didn't deploy. Then there was the one where the woman decided to commit suicide by locking herself in the trunk of her car. After a few days, she changed her mind. But, she couldn't get out. She was eventually found and survived. She sued the car manufacturer and recovered. I guess there should have been a warning in the trunk.

After I left NHTSA, I joined Arent Fox and had the opportunity to represent child seat manufacturers. Century Products made a great infant seat called the 590. It was the best selling infant seat. The base stayed hooked in the car while the infant seat lifted out and acted as a carrier for the child. Century had never received a complaint regarding separation of the base and the seat in a crash. Not bad. But, not good enough.

One day, back in 1995, Consumers Union notified Century that they had crash tested the 590 and that it had failed. The tests had taken place a few months earlier, but Consumers Union kept the results secret from Century. They wanted to splash the story in their Consumer Reports magazine. CU also petitioned NHTSA to recall the 590 for being defective. Well NHTSA eventually denied CU's petition, but not soon enough to save the 590. Life isn't fair.

I question the motives of Consumers Union, who is suppose to be the friend of the consumer, but conceals safety testing for months. If their testing showed a safety concern, shouldn't they quickly notify the manufacturer, or the government or the public?

If I were going to buy a vacuum cleaner or a toaster, I might look at what Consumer Reports had to say. Then again, maybe I wouldn't. But, if we are talking about a product where there is dynamic testing, such as a car seat, or an automobile, I wouldn't trust Consumers Union. I don't think they are qualified and they are too interested in a dramatic story.

Back in 1996 or 97, I went into a Ford dealership to get some literature on the Ford Explorer. Some tall skinny dude in a cowboy hat told me they didn't have any material to give me, but that the Explorer was ranked number one in Consumer Reports. I got out of there and saved myself and family from being part of the rollover debacle.

Let me get back to my child safety seat proposal. And it has nothing to do with Consumers Union trying to play the Wizard of Oz. If a product is mandated by the government (as child seats are in most states), and the Federal government specifies safety requirements for the product, then meeting or exceeding those safety requirements should preclude product liability law suits that attempt to hold the manufacturer to some different standard. Now there's some Congressional legislation I could live with and it wouldn't cost the government any money.

Streaking and Gargoyling

2009-02-28T22:45:00Z

It was 1974 and I was teaching at The Judge Advocate General's School, which is located on the grounds of the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. Students were no longer protesting the Vietnam War. For all practical purposes, it was over. So how were these students, many away from home for the first time, to expend their energy. The answer was streaking.

Streaking became quite popular on campuses across the nation. It didn't matter whether there was an athletic event or the outdoor meeting of the Ladies Horticultural Society, some young dude, naked as a jaybird, would go streaking through the event. One of our Basic Class Graduations was interrupted by a streaker (and it was indoors). No one seemed to get too upset.

The levity of the situation caused me to sit down and write the following letter to the editor of the Daily Progress newspaper. They published it under the title, "After Streaking, What?"

Dear Editor:

Rah, Rah, Raw for the streaking streakers of this wonderful country. No one should really complain. Youth has always had an overabundance of energy and it must be expended. So why not streak? Just keep in mind that three years ago, some were expending their energy making bombs and burning down ROTC buildings on campus. Bless their streaking streaks.

However, I am concerned about the longevity of streaking. While streaking is great for comfortable spring days, I fear that the heat of the summer will have a deterrent effect upon even the heartiest of streakers and that the sport will wane. In short, streaking will soon be out of season.

I submit that those of us who advocate harmless frolic are compelled to bring forth an acceptable substitute. After some careful thought, I believe that gargoyling is an acceptable substitute. This practice would consist of the student climbing up on the outside of a university building in the nude and assuming a position on the facade as a gargoyle. Our society has long accepted the appearance of weird looking gargoyles on buildings, so it would be inconsistent to object to gargoyling.

While university students have competed to see which could gather the largest group of streakers, gargoyling, too, can have its competitive aspects; for example, most gargoyles on campus, or the highest gargoyle on campus, or the weirdest looking gargoyle. The ultimate contest could be gargoyling for the longest period of time. Any student who could hold his pose for over four hours would definitely be a contender. By then, he would surely be subjected to fatigue, the campus police and those nasty birds.

While I realize that gargoyling, like streaking, suffers from the malady of being seasonal, those of us who are organizing the Society for the Encouragement of Harmless Frolics are already concerning ourselves with the selection of a winter sport.

Sincerely,

P. J. Rice

Dog Bites, Drug Addicts and Modern Medicine

2009-02-21T18:56:00Z

The twelfth year of my life should have been a good one. I was learning how to pitch. My Dad, who caught professionally, was really excited about the way I was throwing the ball. I was playing "B" League baseball (ages 10-13) in East St. Louis and no pitcher could be 13. So, this was my year. The sky was the limit.

Early in the summer, a bunch of kids were taking their bicycles out Bunkum Road and so, I raced home to get my bike. On my way to catch them, a dog started chasing the bike. I decided that if I just ignored the dog, I would be OK. What a dumb idea. The dog bit me on the calf. It wasn't a bad bite, but it broke the skin. I went home and my Mom took me to the doctor's office. We waited all afternoon and when we saw the doctor, he gave me a tetanus shot and told us we needed to find the dog. Well, we tried, but we never did.

The moral of the story is if you are ever bit by a dog, don't loss sight of the mutt. I was bit again while in Vietnam and my earlier experience paid off. I found the owner of the dog and when the dog died (that was scary), I practically lived with the veterinarians until they let me know that the dog did not have rabies.

At age twelve, I had to take the rabies shots. Doc Stein explained that they were given one a day for 14 days and they needed to be given in the lining of the stomach. After each shot, I had to lay down for about 15 minutes. I felt like I had been kicked by a horse. Doc Stein was out of town for shots 13 and 14. So, his father, the elder Doctor Stein gave me the shots. He explained that there was no absolute requirement that they be given in the stomach. He gave me shots in the buttocks and thigh that were both painless. I just checked, and today the rabies vaccine consists of four shots and they are given in the arm, like a flu shot. What a rip.

I had my last shot on Wednesday and started getting sick on Friday. I was weak, miserable and throwing up. Mom took me to see Doc Stein on Saturday and he gave me some cold medicine. We finally got him to come to the house late Sunday afternoon (Yes, they really did make house calls). I was rushed to the hospital. My white blood cell count was out of sight. I had an appendicitis.

When they operated Monday morning, it turned out my appendix had ruptured and gangrene had set in. I found out later that Doc Stein could not complete the operation and that another doctor stepped in and saved me. I was one sick puppy. Thank goodness for penicillin. Every four hours, I would get a penicillin shot in my bottom. I got to where, during the night, I could roll over and get the shot without even waking up. My bottom looked like a pin cushion. They left a long drainage tube in me which required my bandages to be changed every day. Every few days, they would pull out a little of my tube and cut it off. Now there is a strange sensation.

I was in the hospital for about three weeks. My pitching career was over. About a month after I got out of the hospital and while still under Doc Stein's care, it came out in the local newspaper that Doc Stein and his wife were both addicted to morphine. This made a lot of things fall into place. That's why he couldn't finish the operation. That's why he had to wait until his wife got home with the car to come see me that Sunday, when they had three cars. I also remember his secretary telling me how fantastic he was with an hypodermic needle (lots of practice). The only good news was that office visits took less time. He was only permitted to care for patients already under his care.

In the fall, I went out for junior high football. I made it through the three tough weeks of preseason ball, but when the doctor showed up for physicals, I knew I was in trouble. The hole where the tube had been had healed, but not properly. The doctor told me that he would not approve my physical, but if I could get my doctor's approval, I could play. I went to see Doc Stein and he cut the skin tissue over the hole and let it drain. I remember him saying, "This shouldn't hurt." Maybe he was referring to himself. It hurt like hell. I healed up fine, but my 8th grade football season was over. What a helpless feeling.

No one will ever convince me that the rabies shots in the stomach weren't the cause of my appendix going bad and rupturing. I have never gotten a doctor to agree with me. They can't tell me what caused my appendicitis. They would just blow me off. But, these are the guys who used to put leeches on people.

Disney and Golf

2009-02-14T19:55:00Z

What can I say? We love Disney World. I think it opened in 1971 and we took our kids in 1973. Since then, we have gone over a dozen times. We have taken our children and parents. We have had family reunions involving four generations and lately, it's been just me and Carole.

It's nice to go someplace that is clean and everyone is friendly and helpful. Think about that. It's the Disney philosophy. No arrogant clerks. You never get the feeling that someone wants to pass you on just to get rid of you. Sweet. I find myself smiling a lot. Even when I see young parents with three worn out, cranky kids, I smile and say to myself, thank goodness they're not ours.

The last two times we have gone down, we have combined Disney World with a two-day golf school at David Leadbetter's Champion Gate. It's only about four miles down I-4. While at golf school, we stay at Shades of Green, the military recreation center at Disney World. And Missy, our daughter who lives in Jacksonville, came down to keep Carole company.

One of the neat things about the Leadbetter Academy is they let me pick the dates for my instruction. Then, they post the dates on their website and fill up the class (four students per instructor). Maybe this was the one time that the economic downturn helped me. It turned out that I was the only student who signed up. The class only took about five hours each day, rather than eight, but I was receiving one-on-one instruction. Not bad.

Andrew Park, my instructor, video taped everything I did. We spent quite a bit of the first day reminding me of what I had learned and forgotten two years before. That's a hell of a note. I won't forget again. We also spent a lot of time in the classroom looking at the videos. Andrew would set up a split screen with me on one side and Tiger Woods or Ernie Ells on the other. Now, I ask you, is that fair? Once you got past the fact that we were all swinging from the right side, the similarities vanished. Oh yes, the ball looked about the same.

The split screen is an excellent way to observe what Tiger was doing wrong. Oh, I'm sorry, I was referring to Tiger Rice. Andrew wanted me to be tall like Ernie and Tiger. So did I. So did my football coaches. It just ain't going to happen. When I was growing up, my Mom told me that if I ate my salad, I would grow tall. What a crock. I finally figured out that Andrew wanted me to stand taller over the ball. "Stand tall like Tiger." I got it, but it took me much too long.

I do love the game. The Washington Post, for Valentine's Day, asked people to express love in six words. All I could think of was, "It's curling, curling. It dropped in!"

The down side of a golf school is it will take me two or three months to be hitting the ball as well as I was before I went to school. But the thought of hitting the ball farther, straighter and stopping the ball on the green like a "dropped cat" keeps me going. Oh, I forgot to mention. I finished first in my class.

For the last five or six trips, we have obtained a Disney package that included everything. Room, meals, recreation (spelled GOLF- I played twice), transportation and entry to all the parks. We also have been staying in the concierge building which provides breakfast, late morning and early afternoon snacks and appetizers between five and seven o'clock. We seem to be paying for a lot of duplication and we plan to take a look at how to be more frugal. Disney World has great restaurants. We particularly like Narcoossee's, located at the boat house at the Grand Floridian. But let's face it. You can only eat so much and with everything free, it becomes a task. Eating should never become a task.

Because all the help is so polite, it's fun to watch them struggle with stupid questions. Stating, "That's really dumb" is not an option. For example, there is a launch that takes passengers from the Magic Kingdom to the Grand Floridian and then, on to the Polynesian Village. We always stay at the Polynesian Village. As the launch was pulling into the Grand Floridian, I asked the captain if the boat was going to take me to Fort Wilderness. I could just see the captain mentally racing through his etiquette book. Just saying, "Didn't you read the signs before you got on the boat?" wasn't acceptable. Also, after having one of the concierges change a few reservations for us, she asked for our room number. I told her we weren't staying in the concierge building. The look on her face was priceless. Then, Carole gave her the room number. The concierge later told me that she would have handled the matter politely because that was what was expected of her.

This is the first year that I can remember when I didn't buy a Disney T-shirt, golf shirt or tie. You can only wear so many and I never dispose of any of them. Also, I received a Leadbetter pullover and cap (part of the goodie bag). The "free" goodie bag comes with the not-so-free lessons. I did buy an Uncle Sam stove pipe hat. When I wore it I "stood taller." I was almost as tall as Tiger. Andrew would have been proud of me.

Nutty Tom Mongan

2009-01-20T22:36:34Z

Tom Mongan and I were both born and raised in East St. Louis, Illinois. Even though we were the same age and in the same grade (and from the same neighborhood), we never met until we went off to college. He went to Assumption High School and I went to East Side High. Never the twain shall meet.

Anyway, both being from the same town and away from home, we became good friends. By the second semester, we were sharing a dorm room. Tom was the smart one. In English composition class, he wrote a great paper on his/our home town. For economy of effort, I used his paper in my English composition class. He got an A and I got a C! I went to my teacher, Miss Hodges, and told her I really wanted to do better and could she explain to me what was wrong with "my" paper. I knew the paper deserved better that a C. She never did explain to me what was wrong with the paper, but she decided that it was easier to give me a B, than to put up with my constant inquiries.

Nutty Tom and I only lasted one semester together. We got caught spraying shaving soap down the hallway. I came up with the conclusion that they couldn't prove it was us. We were going to stonewall. Then, one of the monitors produced an envelope addressed to me covered with shaving soap. I accused Nutty Tom of looking at my mail, but it didn't work. Our punishment was to be separated the next year into distant buildings.

The next year, I found myself living way South and a half-mile to the North was Nutty Tom. Those who controlled the dorm assignments had kept their promise. That first day, one of the assistant coaches called me in and told me I needed to be assigned to a room designated for athletes. Guess who ended up being my next door neighbor? Nutty.

We were both conscientious students. We just had strange work habits. We generally didn't do any homework until after 11 o'clock at night. Then, we would work until we got done (usually 1:30 to 2:00 AM). Nutty's roommate, Luke, would go to bed at a reasonable hour and sleep through our antics. Some time after 1:00 AM, we would find everything we said was funny. It was a riot. We called it "giddy hour." One of our favorite games was feeding Luke. We would slip over and put a cookie on his chest. Luke would find it and eat it without ever waking up. This was great sport. The only time I remember Luke waking up was when some of our group (including Mike "the animal" Magac) misappropriated a cooked turkey from a frat house and we put a drumstick on Luke's chest.

Just to let you know, Luke did not choke to death. Lowell Lukas ended up with his Masters in Physical Education and became a very successful golf coach at Central Connecticut State University. In fact, Luke was elected to the Golf Coaches Association of America's Hall of Fame. In his acceptance speech, neither Nutty nor I received any credit for nourishing him during his formative years. Come to think of it, I guess he never knew.

One late night, when Nutty and I were cutting across campus, a campus security guard tried to stop us to see our IDs. I just kept walking. We had done nothing wrong and I was sure he had no authority. I told Nutty Tom to keep walking, but he stopped. He took out his wallet and showed the guard a one dollar bill and said, "I'm George Washington."

Carole, my future wife, didn't want me hanging around with Nutty Tom. And, Gay, a sweet Suzie Stephens, who became Nutty's wife didn't want him hanging out with me. That was because when anything went wrong, we were always together and each told our future bride that it was the other one's idea. Everyone called me PJ and I was smug in my knowledge that PJ didn't sound as guilty as Nutty Tom.

Well, that was a long time ago and our wives now are willing to let us get together. In fact, they join us. Nutty Tom became a banker in Houston specializing in trusts, investments and financial services. I guess his title at "Nutty Tom" had to disappear after he left school.

He has a website entitled Securityimpressions.com which is quite impressive. If you want to know financially what is going on, what went wrong and what to do about it, check out Nutty Tom's blog site. There is nothing on the blog site which would make you think he was once known at "Nutty Tom," or "Nutty" for short.