Random Thoughts

Women and Cell Phones


I like to observe people.  Downtown Washington, D.C. is an ideal location.  It’s best to wear sun glasses.  In a small town, everybody says hello, but in a big city, making eye contact is a no-no.  If someone does smile or nod at me, I know they are visiting.

One of the things I noticed is that women always seem to be talking on a cell phone.  During lunch, after work, regardless of street location, there they are talking away.

Since I would rather look at women than men, I thought maybe my observations were skewed.  So, I decided to turn my observations into a random unscientific survey.  Those are really the best kind of surveys.  Scientific surveys, which gather large volumes of data end up telling us what we already know (like people with criminal records are more likely to get in trouble in the military than people with no criminal record), or concluding with a result that was bought and paid for (such as cigarettes don’t cause cancer).

If you are doing a random unscientific survey, you don’t have to worry about things like a regression analysis or a chi-square test.  They would be difficult to do since I have no idea what they are.

As part of my survey, I just started counting and recording.  In order to be counted, the person had to have the phone to his or her ear.  Hey, I make the rules.  My first attempt resulted in 13 women and five men.  I think that is statistically significant.  Then, four women and one man (some of my unscientific survey sessions only lasted a few minutes).  After just two weeks, I shut the survey down.  I had satisfied myself that on the streets of DC, there are more women talking on cell phones than men.

But, what does it mean?  Does it mean that women have more friends?  Are they better multi-taskers?  They can walk and talk at the same time.  Or, are they more chatty?  Let’s face it, there is a Chatty Kathy doll, but there is no Chatty Charlie doll.

I concluded there are too many possible reasons why this is occurring.  This is going to require a full blown investigation.  As I am just about retired from the Fox, and seeking other opportunities, I think I will conduct the investigation.  I just need to find someone stupid enough to pay for it.  I know, I’ll get a government grant!

Mizzou

When Law School Had a Cutting Edge

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Yes, I did go to law school.  There was a time, before law schools existed, when a person would learn law by clerking as an apprentice in a lawyer’s office.  I’m not that old.  But, I have to admit the rules of admission to law schools were a lot different when I started.

Law School Aptitude Test (LSAT), what’s that?  There was no LSAT when I went to the University of Missouri.  All a student had to have to enter law school was 90 hours and 90 Honor Points (one hour of “C” gave you one Honor Point).  Easy to get in, hard to graduate.  Since practically anyone could get in, the school flunked out about a third the first year.

I remember a third-year law student talking to our class the first day.  He said, “Look at the student to your left and now, look at the student to your right.  One of the three of you will not be back next year.  That was scary, particularly since the people on my left and right looked pretty smart.

While most of my classmates already had a degree, I was one of those eager beavers who had entered law school at the end of my third year with 90 plus hours.  I had gotten all my required courses out of the way during my first three years.  But, I needed to pass my first year of law school to receive my undergraduate degree.

I had just gotten married, which was a good thing.  While it piled on more pressure, it certainly kept me focused.  I was still completing my fourth year of ROTC, and if I flunked out of law school, I suspect I would have been drafted and had no degree.  Maybe I could learn to be a pastry chef at Fort Lee’s Culinary Art Institute.  On top of all that, I had quit the football team to go to law school and the team ended up going to the Orange Bowl!

About half way through my first semester, we were instructed to report to a classroom to take an aptitude test.  We were advised that the test would have no affect on us as law students.  They just wanted us as a “base group.”  Looking back, I suspect it was some form of an early LSAT test.

There were 60 multiple choice questions and the test was to last one hour.  Being a math wizard, I figured out I had one minute per question.  The monitor explained it was not a good idea to guess, because a wrong answer hurt more than leaving the question blank.  I was amazed at how little I knew.  With about five minutes left, I had answered about 25 questions.  So much for time management.  I walked out of the classroom despondent.  If this test indicated aptitude to be a lawyer, I needn’t look to my left or right.

One of my classmates had his undergraduate degree in Agriculture.  That seemed strange to me.  While I had no degree, I had hopes that at the end of the year I would have a degree in Political Science.  But Agriculture?  Finally, I had to ask.  He looked at me disgustingly and said, “I’m going to law school because I couldn’t make the cut to get into veterinary school!”

The first semester wouldn’t tell me much.  Two of my courses (Contracts and Torts) were year long courses and I wouldn’t get a grade until June.  Because of ROTC,  I was only taking 12 law school hours.  At the end of the semester, I would only have grades in Civil Procedure and Legal Professions (an ethics course).  Neither would tell me much about aptitude to be a lawyer.

While studying in the law library, a bunch of my football buddies came by to tell me to study hard while they were in Miami.  While they were jerking me around, it still felt good to see them.  If things didn’t work out, maybe I could be a public relations guy for an athletic program.

At the end of a stress filled year of doubt, the grades trickled in and I had passed everything.  I graduated from undergraduate school and was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the Field Artillery.   Also, I was deferred from active duty for two years to finish law school.  No more thoughts about going to Fort Lee to become a pastry chef.  But the emptiness of the Orange Bowl will always be there.

Poems

Christmas Together – 2003

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Hey, I want you to see my old Christmas poems.  If you are family or close friends, you probably saw them some time back.  Just humor me.  I will eventually run out of them – but, not for a while!



CHRISTMAS TOGETHER – 2003

We’ve struggled and muggled our way through the year,
High points and low points, but not without cheer.
But as the days grow short and as the year ends,
It’s great to be surrounded by loved ones and friends.
Based on that criteria, there won’t be any hysteria,
Because all of our children will be in the area.

Becky and Grant and Brandon, the Cool,
Will fly in from the West, here for the Yule.
Missy and Tyler and Kristin and Terry,
Will drive up from Florida, arrivals may vary.
Paul and Josh and Jack and Sandy,
Live two hours away and that’s real handy.
Together at Christmas, won’t that be fine?
Last time it happened was 89.

Carole is the organizer responsible for the fete,
She’s a cook extraordinary, there’ll be plenty to eat.
Carole’s new hobby of which I may grouse,
Is buying new furniture and filling the house.
Couches and chests and knick knacks galore,
It’s like running a maze, just finding the door.
But there is a new rule about which I shout,
When a new piece comes in, an old one goes out.

Jack’s still enjoying life at the Fox,
There’s been a refocus and energy rocks.
No more a merger maiden, we’re playing to our strengths,
Focused on core areas and going to all lengths.
Heading for the best year ever, the third time in a row,
Picking up Twosies and Threesies and watching our numbers grow.
We’re branding the Fox, shortening our name, to pull right out ahead,
We’re struggling over trivia, like should the Fox be blue or red,
And even more a scuffle, will it appear on our letterhead.

Another good travel year, with a Great Lakes cruise,
RAJA in Vegas, no time to snooze.
We ducked by to see Becky and Mary on the way,
The visits were too short, no time in the day.
Golf School in Florida, what a crazy game,
I’m hitting much better, but the score is the same.
Cherry blossom time brought us Brother Bob and Sue,
We walked the Tidal Basin, but our fingers all turned blue.

Our cards are late this year, but really for a reason,
We’re planning a group photo, to capture the season.
We’re thankful for so much, the turkey and the ham,
An early Christmas present, when the Army caught Saddam!
For soldiers stationed far away, for friends from far and near,
For the spirit of the season, for love and good cheer,
A very Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

The Fox

Becoming Part of The Fox

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One of the hard, cold facts about making the military a career is that you will have to have a second career.  You have to retire twice.  After I retired from the Army, I was able to hook on with the Department of Transportation for about three years  It was a political appointment.  So, I had to check out when the Administration lost the election.  That doesn’t count as a retirement (it’s more like getting canned).  Life is full of bumps.

I was 55 years old and had never been in private practice.  I always wondered what it would be like.  After three years at DOT, I professed to have an “area of expertise.”  I knew a lot about motor vehicle safety law.  I also knew about a half dozen Washington lawyers in D.C. firms who were willing to “pass on my resume.”   Bump, bump.

I had one close friend who was a senior partner at Arent Fox.  We had started together in the JAG Corps thirty years earlier.  After three years in the Army, Larry Henneberger got out and joined Arent Fox.  We stayed in contact through the years.  Larry didn’t think my “future client base” would fit at Arent Fox as they already represented a large number of motor vehicle parts manufacturers and it seemed like I would be pointed toward representing major auto manufacturers.  While he didn’t think Arent Fox would be the right place for me, he thought it would be good experience for me to interview with the Fox and pick up some interview skills.  I did too.

I have a good friend named Dave Zucker who had worked for me at the JAG School as Chief of Government Contracting.  He had retired from the Army and was practicing with a large law firm in Los Angeles.  I asked him what it was like to be in private practice.  He said there were some similarities to the Army.  He said, “Jack, think about taking your office to the field.  Everybody is in a circle around a bonfire.  When the fire starts getting low, someone goes out and gathers some more wood and throws in on the fire.  It’s the same in private practice, except everyone is facing away from the fire looking for possible clients.  They are also hoping that someone else is looking after the fire.”  Bump, bump, bump.

I also asked Dave whether he thought I could pass myself off as having expertise in Government Contracting.  He said, “Definitely not!”

The Arent Fox interview consisted of meeting individually with five partners.  They were quite friendly and it was an enjoyable experience.  Maybe that was because I had been told not to expect anything to come of it.  I even got a free lunch.  Eventually during each interview, they wanted to know how I intended to bring clients to the Fox.  I did my best, but I obviously didn’t have any clients.  So, I told them I would go out and find them.  Not too original.

Later, Larry called to tell me that the interviews had gone well and that they wanted me to come back for more interviews.  The second set of interviews led to an offer which I happily accepted.  If they had offered me a lot less, I would have happily accepted.

In reflecting back, I needed a job.  I probably would have accepted an offer from any firm (Dewey, Cheetum and Who?).  But to my good fortune, I ended up with one of the really great firms in D.C.  The people at the firm like each other!  They are smart in their clients world and work hard, but always as a team.  There are actually lots of partners at the firm who are keeping track of the bonfire.

That was 14 years ago and I haven’t heard anything on those other resumes I floated.  That’s OK, because I am getting ready to retire, retire.

Random Thoughts

Die Hard Cardinal Fan


I grew up in East St. Louis, Illinois – right across the Mississippi River from St. Louis.  I loved the St. Louis Cardinals and still do.  Every night during the season, I would go to bed listening to Harry Carey and Gabby Street broadcasting the end of the Cards game.  That’s right, Harry Carey.  Before he became the voice of the Chicago Cubs, he spent decades with the St. Louis Cardinals.

My Dad played professional baseball.  He was a catcher and spent most of his time in the minor leagues.  When he was catching for the Albany Senators (NY), his roommate on road trips was Ralph Kiner.  If you don’t know who Ralph Kiner is, that is OK.  Most people don’t.  But, the hard corps fans know he played for the Pittsburgh Pirates and led the National League in home runs from 1946 through 1952, and is in the Hall of Fame.  Dad taught me and my brother, Bill, how to be a catcher.  The Rice household was big on baseball (on being a catcher) and the Cardinals were our team.

I now live in the Washington DC area and cheer for the Washington Nationals (except when they are playing the Cardinals).  So when the Cardinals came to town last week, I had to go see them.

The University of Missouri Alumni Association held a tailgate party for the Saturday night game.  My daughter Missy, visiting for a few days from Jacksonville, Florida, and I went to the tailgate.  The temperature was 98 degrees and there was no shade.  The food was great, but hot and steamy.  There was free beer!  A much appreciated donation from, who else, Anheuser-Busch.  Yes, being a St. Louis fan has its advantages.

Even free beer couldn’t keep us from escaping the sun.  When we got to our seats, there was somebody sitting in them.  Our entire section was practically empty, except for the four people sitting in and around our seats.  This was not a problem.  They had just sat there to avoid the sun while they ate.  We told them we would sit elsewhere while they finished their dinner, but they were embarrassed and moved right out.

The game turned out to be a Redbird disaster.  The final score was 12-1 and Albert Pujols didn’t play.  What a bummer.  They got beat like an old rug.  The only high point in the game was that we didn’t get anyone seriously injured.  Other than that, it was a washout.  Here is an example.  The Nats had a runner on second base and the batter laced a line drive to center field.  Jim Edmonds, our center fielder, has a great arm and I just knew he would throw the runner out at home plate.  I have seen him do it any number of times.  I glanced at the runner and he is rounding third and heading for home.  I look back to center field and Edmonds is sitting on his butt.  He obviously slipped on the turf.  As I said, the good news is he wasn’t seriously hurt.

A sociologist would have a field day at the park.  There is as much entertainment in the stands as on the field.  Sitting across the aisle from us was a guy all decked out in Redskin regalia.  He also had a large Redskin banner that he paraded up and down the aisle.  I concluded that it probably was about the best time to cheer for the Redskins.  We hadn’t even lost a pre-season game yet.  It didn’t surprise us to find out that our Redskin fan was drunk.  He was a friendly drunk, which is the best kind.  He told me he was a Cardinal fan and a National fan.  So rather than make a hard choice, he dressed as a Redskin fan.  I wondered how that would work in politics.  If you liked both Obama and Hillary, you could just start combing your hair like John Edwards.

The good news for our section was that all the altercations were of the verbal variety.  Close, but no fisticuffs.  My daughter thought we might have to step in and defuse the situation.  I told her she needed to come up with an alternate plan that moved us in the opposite direction.  One man accused another of touching him.  This led to shouting.  The thing I found humorous was that all the participants were National fans.  This was not about team allegiance (which I could understand), it was about personal space.

I think the score was 10-1 when we decided to relinquish our personal space.  By leaving early, we failed to see Tony La Russa, our manager, put second baseman, Arron Miles, in to pitch.  Miles did better than our real pitchers.  Maybe La Russa is on to something.

As we wandered around outside the stadium trying to find our car, I was smiling.  Nothing that happens this year can take away from that warm wonderful feeling of last year.  We stumbled and fumbled into the playoffs and then, won it all.  The only way we got into the playoffs was by Houston losing the last game of the season.  The playoff memories of knocking off the Padres, the Mets and then, the Tigers to win the World Series are still fresh.  The Championship came with a two year smile warranty.

My Military Daze

Oh Yes, The Old Class Q Allotment


I don’t remember his name.  All I know is he was the oldest looking PFC I had ever seen.  And, of course, he was talking to me because he was in trouble.  The Army wanted to kick him out.  Sometimes the Army can really screw over a person and this was a classic case.

The thing that was most impressive about my PFC was that he was wearing the Combat Infantry Badge with two stars.  That meant he had seen combat in three wars, World War II, the Korean War and the Vietnam War.  I don’t know how it is today, but you didn’t see many CIB’s with two stars back then.  These guys were really special.

About that same time, there was a chief warrant officer in the JAG Office with a CIB.  He was telling me about the conversation he had with a first lieutenant who was proudly displaying his Expert Infantryman Badge ( EIB ).  He was explaining to the chief all of the tests he had to successfully complete to be awarded the EIB.  The lieutenant then asked the chief what he had to do to be entitled to wear the CIB.  The chief said, “All I had to do was stay alive.”

The Army was determine to get rid of my PFC.  He had prepared false official documents.  Many years back, he had married a woman, who unbeknownst to him,  was already married.  They had lived in government quarters on post and when he was shipped overseas, she received an allotment called a Class Q Allotment.  This allotment was mandatory.  The Army wanted to insure that wives were supported while the soldiers were overseas.  Later, she left him telling him that she was going back to her “real” husband.  So our PFC went to the JAG Office and asked a young military lawyer whether he was, in fact, married.  The young lawyer advised him that if his wife was already married, then their marriage was illegal and he was a free man.

Well, he had been dating this sweet young thing and since he was a free man, they got married.  This second marriage was legal, but Army Records still showed him married to the first woman.  In fact, she was still receiving the Class Q Allotment (the devil is in the paperwork).  His inquiries led him to a military clerk who explained that the only way he could stop the allotment was to show the Army a divorce decree.

So everything rocked along until our soldier received overseas orders and he wanted to make out an allotment for his present wife.  The allotment clerk advised him that he could only have allotments to relatives and that he should list his present wife as his cousin, since he already had an allotment going to his first “wife.”  So, he did just that.

When he returned to the states, the Army would not assign him to military quarters to live with his “cousin.”  She got fed up and left and he went after her.  That AWOL cost him some stripes and then when he tried to explain, they decided he had “falsified” allotment documents and to process him out of the Army.

I was a young captain, but I felt certain that we could explain away any supposed misdeeds.  I was in the process of obtaining his first wife’s first marriage certificate (to prove she was a bigamist, and that it wasn’t my guy’s fault), when he decided to disappear.

This would have been a great story if I could have saved his career and gotten everything squared away, but it just wasn’t to be.  The only good news is that when he went AWOL for the last time, the Army probably stopped the bogus Class Q Allotment.

Random Thoughts

Barack Obama

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Yesterday, I received a letter from Barack Obama.  I suspect most of you have by now.  Somehow, I have gotten on both the Republican and Democratic mailing lists.  It is humorous reading what each is saying about the other.  Both say the other is destroying our country.  You really need to see both sides to keep it in perspective.

I thought he would be telling me that he is running for President and requesting money.  That’s what fund raising is all about.  Well, he was requesting money, but not for himself.  He was asking me to send money to the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee.  He said the Demos surprised the Republicans in 2006, but it wouldn’t be that easy in 2008.  Those rascal Republicans “won’t be caught off guard again.”

My thought is, if the Demos want to keep control of the Senate, they better start being nice to Joe Lieberman.

Well, I wasn’t interested in contributing my money to anybody.  So, you ask, “Why did you read the literature, if you had already made up your mind that you weren’t going to contribute?”  I read it because I was hoping that somewhere buried in the text was information on how I could meet the Obama Girl.  I could care less if Obama and Hillary want to fight over whether we should sit down with foreign tyrants.  I just want to meet the Obama Girl!  Let’s keep politics simple.

My Military Daze

Soldiers with Prior Criminal Records


It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that the Army is having a difficult time meeting their recruitment quotas.  That happens when there is an enemy out there trying to do us harm.  In order to meet the need for new recruits, the Army is granting more waivers to young men and women who have criminal records.  In 2003 and 2004, only four to five percent had waivers.  Now the number has climbed to over 11%.

This has some of the media hollering that the sky is falling.  They have trotted out experts who have said that people with criminal records are more likely to get in trouble in the Army, than people with no criminal records.  Duh!  How do I get a job as an expert?  I could make profound statements like that.

Ordinarily, the “do-gooder” media would be supporting the proposition of giving a person a second chance.  But that is not the case if the opposite view will put the military in a bad light.  Well folks, don’t worry about the military.  Our military services are in the best position to take a troubled youth and square him or her away.  We have a lot of practice.  Since before we were born, judges in large and small communities have been telling young people in trouble, “either join the Army or go to jail.”  The Army unknowingly accepts these youths and in many cases, the Army is the best thing that ever happened to them.  They just need a lot of supervision and discipline, which is not in short supply in the U. S. Army.

A friend I went to law school with had just such an experience and at the request of a local judge, spent three years in the Marine Corps.  He gave the Marine Corps credit for turning his life around.  After he got out, he finished undergraduate school and law school and became a well-respected lawyer and community leader in Springfield, Missouri.

Accepting as soldiers these individuals who committed crimes when they were young and immature is, for the Army, a piece of cake.  We were really challenged back in the 1960’s.  Secretary McNamara came up with the idea of Project 100,000.  These were recruits who were mentally challenged.  To enlist in the Army, you need a minimum score of 31 out of 100 on the Armed Forces Qualification Test.  Some of McNamara’s 100,000 had scores as low at ten.  Now these characters were a challenge.  Of course, the Vietnam War was in full tilt and these unfortunate individuals helped fill the ranks.  All of the Project 100,000 soldiers had special service numbers, so it was easy to identify them.

I was in Germany from 1966 to 1969.  For part of that period, I was a 4th Armored Division defense counsel.  I got to know some of Secretary McNamara’s boys.  One, whose name was Jake, got in trouble about every other week.  He should have kept me on a retainer.  I kept getting him out of trouble, but I wasn’t sure that was to his benefit.  A separation from the Army would have been better.  First, Jake got drunk and started a fight in a local gasthaus.  It was a tough place and there was plenty of blame to spread around.  Later, Jake beat up a German taxi driver.  Jake claimed the driver pulled a weapon on him (probably because Jake refused to pay for the ride).  I won’t elaborate on the many times he missed formations and was disrespectful to officers and NCO’s.

The last time I saw Jake was when he came by to thank me and tell me he was on orders to Vietnam.  His arm was in a sling.  I had to ask.  He said, “Oh that, it happened when I flipped the jeep.  I stopped right there.

I read that one of McNamara’s 100,000 (in reality, there were over 300,000) was awarded three Silver Stars for heroism in Vietnam.  He didn’t want the third one because it was the same color as the other two.  He said he would rather have the Army Commendation Medal, because it had a green ribbon.  The Army Commendation Medal, known as the “Green Weenie,” was no where near as much of an honor as the Silver Star.

So, Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public, don’t worry about the Army.  We will do just fine with those soldiers with prior criminal records.  In fact, the Army will send them back to their local towns and cities much better citizens than when they got them.

Random Thoughts

On to Talkeetna, Alaska

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We just got back from a “cruise-tour” of Alaska.  They call it a cruise-tour because you spend five days on the ground in Alaska and then jump on a cruise ship to wander through the Inside Passage.  You can do the cruise first (start in Vancouver), but I have no idea how to handle the land portion after stuffing yourself for seven days on board a ship.

It’s a nice package, particularly if you have a problem with sea sickness.  It is impossible to get seasick in the Inside Passage.  You’ve got land all around you and it is like floating in a community lake.  After a week on ship, you’ll still have no idea what  the expression “see legs” means.  That’s fine with me.  I am not big on seeing my food more than once.  My first tattoo is going to say “terra firma.”

We traveled by train from Anchorage to Talkeetna.  If you saw the TV show, Northern Exposure, you have an idea of what to expect in Talkeetna.  We were a few days early for their major social function of the year, The Talkeetna Moose Dropping Festival.  No, they don’t drop a moose.  We are talking about moose droppings.  It is the major fund raiser in Talkeetna, sponsored by the VFW for the benefit of the Talkeetna Historical Society.

This is a raffle where you purchase a little ball of moose poop which has been shellacked and numbered.  In fact, there are two balls with the same number.  One has a pin in it, making it suitable for wearing at appropriate occasions (which is anytime in Talkeetna).  The second ball is held for the contest.  All of the second moose-dropping balls are placed in a net, hauled into the air and dropped over a bulls-eye.  The moose dropping that lands closest to the bulls-eye is the winner.  You are also the winner if your little ball of poop bounces or rolls farthest form the bulls-eye.  Sorry we missed it.

Prior to the moose dropping event, they have a parade, “right down Main Street.”  Then, they turn around and march right up Main Street.  The street is so short that if you get in the right spot, you will never lose sight of the parade.  A parade in Alaska reminds me of the parades we used to have when I was a kid.  There were no expensive floats or glitter, just high school bands and fire trucks and friends waiving to friends.  It caused good, warm feelings that stayed with you throughout the year.

Ten years ago, we were in Ketchikan, Alaska on the 4th of July.  What a great parade – right out of the 1950’s.  All the high school graduates who were celebrating class reunions were piled into the back of flat bed trucks.  There was the Class of 1992; the Class of 1987; the Class of 1982, and so on.  Ketchikan can only be reached by sea or air, but everyone returns for the 4th of July celebration.  It is probably the only time I will see a fully loaded logging truck in a 4th of July parade.

After spending a day in the Denali National Park, we returned to Talkeetna to spend a night at the Talkeetna Alaskan Lodge.  It is quite modern and has a spectacular view of Mt. McKinley.  The only problem is that Mt. McKinley is bashful.  It doesn’t show itself very often.  In fact, they have concluded that only 30% of those looking for Mt. McKinley get to see it.  You can purchase a 30% pin indicating you were part of the 30% that saw it.  You can wear the pin right next to your moose dropping pin.

Mt. McKinley is so elusive that you can request the Lodge call you if McKinley shows itself.  I did, and at 10:30 PM I received a call.  I hustled up to the Lodge and there it was in all its beauty.  However, even though it was 10:30 at night, the sun was shining in my eyes.  The sun was scheduled to set at 11:27 PM, so I went back to my room; then back to the Lodge at 11:15.  The sun was behind the mountain, making for some great photo shots.  The only problem was that this was my second night in Alaska and I was still functioning on Eastern Daylight Savings Time.  My body thought it was 3:30 in the morning.

The bottom line is the Lodge is great, the town is strange and I don’t think they will be able to lure me back for Winter Dog Mushing.

Poems

Another Catch-up Poem


(Please note that I will be away from my computer until the last week in July.  But, I will be thinking of silly and  provocative things to post when I get back).

In September, 1989, I was reassigned from the Industrial College of the Armed Forces, in Washington, to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.  The SJA at Fort Leavenworth retired with no notice and I was tentatively scheduled to go there in the summer of 1990.  So we moved it up nine months.  With six weeks notice, we sold our home, never to return to the DC area (Of course, DC is where we have been for the last 17 years.

This is the Christmas poem for 1989.  The poem for 1990 explains why we are back in DC.

Christmas Greetings

The postmark’s correct, the summer’s a haze,
The Army works in mysterious ways.
I requested Ft. Leavenworth for next summer’s rotation,
Four weeks later, had my orders – to our great elation.

With just six weeks notice, we moved to the west,
Sold our house, banked the bucks, that’s the part I like best.
It’s tough to leave friends, with those sad goodbyes,
But, It’s good to be back, with family ties.

Becky and Kerby had their second boy,
Brandon came in April, a bundle of joy.
Kerby completed command in October this year,
Next comes CAS Cube, which, of course, is right here.

Missy and Terry started their second year,
They’ve purchased a house, but not quite so near.
Hutchinson Kansas is farther away,
But they’re still in the state, so what the hey.
They both have new jobs, to pay their bills,
Missy’s teaching Headstart, to cure old ills.

Paul’s at Mizzou, wrapping up his degree,
It won’t come too soon for my wallet and me.
We saw Mizzou twice, K-State and K.U.
Not like the old days, strictly P.U.
We missed the crowd’s roar, the old rootem-tootem,
If the players were horses, I’d say we should shoot’em.

We visited New England before we went West,
Visiting old friends is the part we like best.
Newport mansions and the Vermont maple tree,
Boston baked beans and West Point history.

Moving’s no fun, it gets harder each time,
With no kids to help, many stairs to climb.
Great Army quarters with hard wood floors,
Strange shaped windows and too many doors.
Steam heated radiators that go clank, clank, clank,
But, old Army elegance, you can take to the bank.

We’re excited about Christmas, the holiday season,
Our children are coming, that’s the main reason.
Sweet Candy is ten, still spry and hearty,
We’ll put her upstairs for our Christmas party.

I’ve written too much, but you are the reason,
We want you to have a great holiday season!

BOO! I saw you smile!