TRIP TO THE OPTOMETRIST

Not very often do I get to be around people more my own age. Well, maybe more than my age. More like “elderly” and up to really old. The old enough to warrant a care-giver, or as I call them, Keepers.

Today was a trip to the eye doc for a yearly exam and a short wait in the waiting-room with other patients. Most were on their cell phones, a few were just staring off into the space in front of them and a little ole lady with a voice that could peel the varnish off a violin with volume to match. She said she was surprised that this place looks so different than the last time. Her keeper said, in a normal tone of voice and volume, “That was the heart doctors office.” pause.. she then said she had some candy that she would eat afterward and you know she had to hide it when the kids come over? The eye assistant called her name and she was aided into the inner sanctum of the medical system.

The rest of us returned to our phones and idle chat. At least I was listening to the conversation across from me while playing my phones Solitaire. The guy with the Santa Claus beard was telling the ‘staring into space’ lady next to him that he was 69 years old, plays Santa at Roaring Camp, a musician, has a band, pilot, lawyer, Indian chief….and I lost interest. Lamest pick-up line I ever heard. I couldn’t tell if he was making any headway as the lady only blinked as she retreated further into herself. Santa was on a roll and kept his patter going as I returned to my Solitaire game.

Heard a guy checking in at the desk behind me being asked his name and date of birth. “John -mumble-, 1954—wheeze.”  Admitted, I felt him sit down behind me so I didn’t see much other than the quick glimpse when he said 1954. That puts him 12 years younger than me! Life has not been kind to John -mumble-. “wheeze.”

My time in purgatory was cut short soon because my name was called to see the doc. I did a scan of the waiting room as I left, to see what we all looked liked. Some a little older than others and most all white or grey haired. Lets just say, “People of a Certain Age” Can’t guess at the older 'candy' ladies age but I put it near a century. Maybe 90’s for sure just by her voice.

I know than when I look out from inside me, I still see myself, mentally, as a physical 35 year old. My body doesn’t see it the same way so it complains just to be irritable. Having this daily dose of unreality, I kind of live in that fantasy so when I see people not even near my same age; decrepit looking and physically debilitated, old looking like my grandparents always looked...I wonder?

I wonder what it is that they see when they look out from themselves? Perhaps the “staring off into space” lady was experiencing the first time the foot ball hero asked her to the prom and how exciting it was and how she lost her virginity that night? “ "...and then I was an astronaut..walked on the moon ya know…”

Eye exam went well. Slight case of cataracts, no Mac-degenerating, healthy eyeball things. My shooting eye needs a little correction so my perfection of sight will still be better than most. Those are the ones that drive extremely slower than me because they have no depth perception Like our car, Lex, has this built in warning system when one is close to another vehicle. Or bush. Or stop sign or light pole. Bicyclist  pedestrians. You name it, anything denser than steam sets it off! 

It has me so rattled that I get nervous parking and end up diagonal to the parking lines, Then the front and back warning sirens begin and I have to re-park not much better than the first attempt.

Driving with dilated eyes is a real treat. One must do it, like ever so Never!

USMC Boot Camp

Red Sweat Shirts and Yellow Foot Prints

I have noticed that the posts about the yellow footprints at the recruit depots have folks that remember them and those that don’t. If any of you guys were like me, noticing and remembering said yellow footprints was the last thing on our mind during those first hours.

MCRD on February 8^th, 1960 was my destination. Flying in from Detroit via Chicago during a snowstorm was exciting and arriving in San Diego was absolutely wonderful. Warm weather and a nice Marine invited us to board his 6X in front of the airport. His words were “Get in the truck, spit out that gum, no talking, keep your arms inside the vehicle at all time and all I want to see are assholes and elbows! Now MOVE!”

I was the last in the 6X so I had a seat looking out the rear. Behind us, on the way to the depot, was a white 1958 convertible Cadillac with a beautiful blond driving. I sort of waved and she waved back. I’ve been in love with San Diego ever since.

The Extraterrestrial Hwy

The Extraterrestrial Hwy

Hwy 375

We turned off of Hwy 6 onto Nevada 375 at an intersection called Warm Springs that consists of a closed Bar & Grill, a mine entrance, 2 abandoned miners cabins, a stone corral and a guy dressed in bicycle riding colors having a cigarette in the shadows of the Bar & Grill waiting for, who knows.

Warm Springs

Took some photos and began our drive eastbound on the Extraterrestrial Highway. As with most secondary highways in the Nevada wilderness, Hwy 375 is a black ribbon that curves through passes and runs straight and true when able to do so. Nevada has more mountains than any other state so hills pop up every so often making the road builders cease making straight lines.

Adolescent Memories

Cooking pork chops this evening reminded me of when I was about 12 or 13 years old. I had a nickname of Pork Chop for a few months.

Somehow or another, there came to be a neighborhood group of adults that got together and formed a few things for us youngsters to do outside of the summer break from school. Don’t know what it was for the females but it was basketball for us males.

I sort of knew the rules of the game, so was invited to join up with the squad being formed. My mother must have okayed it since she figured I couldn’t get hurt, too much. After all, the game consists of running back and forth and making a score.

Tales of the Brass Monkey Oldies But Goodies II (See previous post)

Tales of the Gold/Brass Monkey

Another of those dusty memories came to me while I was lying around thinking so I bought a DVD set of the 1982 television production of its version of Indiana Jones.

When the pilot was being made as Tales of the Brass Monkey, it was discovered that there is a bar in the Far East called The Brass Monkey. To avoid legal difficulties, they changed the name to Gold.  In the first episode, a supposedly solid gold statue of a monkey is discovered. Turned out it's really brass. Sneaky way to infer gold for brass.

Tales of the Gold Monkey is an action adventure, international intrigue, exotic locals, handsome leading man, central casting sidekick, beautiful woman and a dog that communicates with one bark for yes, two barks for no. Or vice versa, it depends on how the dog feels.

Oldies But Goodies

Oldies But Goodies

Back in the dark ages, when I was an adolescent, the afternoon matinees were 25 cents, which got you in and a box of popcorn. The local bijou was just around the corner, on Vernor Ave., from where I was living in Detroit. I’m sure it is long gone.

The matinees were serials like Don Winslow of the Navy, The Shadow, Terry and the Pirates, Drums of Fu Manchu, Adventures of Red Ryder and much much more. Since this was the late 40’s, films of the second war to end all wars were still being made with the usual villains. I can still picture the evil mad Nazi doctor with the electric zap machine confounding the inept G-men until the last episode.

All good things must come to an end like cartoons at the beginning of a film and double features. However, I recently was able to purchase a video of an old TV show from the 1950’s. Some of you are thinking how quaint there was film last century. It’s true, even some was in color, or what passes for color.

M&M's trip to San Francico

The M&M's went up to the City today to see the places we misses three weeks ago when I twisted my ankle at the Marine Corps Ball the night before. So, at 9:30am, off we went up Hwy 1 in misty fog.

Pre Obituary for a buddy that''s not dead yet

 

DUANES PRE-OBIT written as of March 2014

As the time of my life has gone on and I've related experiences with those that were there I've learned to preface my memories with "Well, the way I remember it was..."  The following falls into those parameters.

TEEN YEARS

I have known Duane Warner since I was just about 14 and he almost a year older.  When my family bought a Dairy Queen in Ann Arbor Michigan about 1955 or 56, we moved there from the Detroit area and had a house built about a block away from where Duane lived.

COWBOY

12 O'clock High

COWBOY

When I was growing up I wanted to be a cowboy.  The movie cowboys of the 40's had morphed into the cowboys of the 50's.  The 40's had Johnny Mack Brown, Tim McCoy Tim Keene Buck Jones, and Bob Steele, even Buster Crabbe, John Wayne and Robert Taylor who went on into the 50's and beyond.

OLDER THEN DIRT

Older then dirt is a saying that I'm beginning to feel akin to. Today I changed out the faucet and drain in the bathroom.  It's only an exchange of parts, just the faucet and the drain unit. Piece of cake.

Removal of the old faucet was easy.  Laying on my back at the bottom of cabinet pushing into my shoulder, reaching up with tools to undo nuts took about an hour. Lack of the proper tools made getting to the nuts on the faucet impossible.  A sharp chisel took care of the plastic nuts.

Typhoons and Memories

 

1961 The Jungles of SouthEast Asia

Just a walk in the jungle

Ahh, the good ole days in French Indo-China.  Wading through rice paddies, fording rivers thick with leeches the size of banana slugs, feet so wet they begin to peel away the calluses earned in boot camp.  Backpack shoulder straps digging into your shoulders, canteens banging against your butt, weapons getting heavier the more the rain come down.  Boots sink into the mud and make sucking sound as they are wrenched out and into the next spot of mud.  Utilities so wet that sweat stains wash away. What isn't wet is dripping. 

In those days I smoked and kept my cigarettes in a two part plastic case.  They would still get damp so packs of matches were useless.  Only the Zippo lighter would work in the rain under a canopy of palm trees and bamboo.  Would have made a great commercial...huddled under a poncho, trying to keep the cigarette from being put out by the rain dripping off of everything, but the Zippo works.

BLU LIGHT

Not me.

After years of wandering around on our planet in the direct rays of our star called Sol, the accumulated affects of sunlight have finally had their way with me.  This is known as Actinic Keratoses.

If one lives beyond the age of 40 years and have one or more of the risk factors such as fair skin, blond or red hair particularly if combined with blue, hazel or green eyes, then you are eligible for AK.

October 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis

October 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis

The train station in Oceanside California is very near the beach so as I alit from the Coast Starlight, I walked over to the beach and sat on a 4 foot tall pipeline that runs parallel along the beach.  I was returning from a few days annual leave having been visiting my parents up the coast in San Jose for a week. 

           

The early fall weather in southern California is almost always warm and balmy so I took advantage of not having to report in until the next day and sat down in front of the pipe, looking out at the setting sun rays... then I slept there through the night.

GUNS AND SWORDS

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My first cap pistols

I have always been fascinated with guns.  As a child I was allowed to have play cap guns and eventually (around age 10) was allowed to have a BB gun long after I thought I was ready for one. With cap guns it was the action of loading a Cap pistol with a roll of cap material that was a ritual that simulated arming a real live gun.  Some of my young rich pals had cap guns that you could put a cap into a cartridge and then insert it into a cylinder that would make that definite bang/snap and surround us with the smell of burnt gunpowder.  I truly envied them.

Mess Hall Memory

 

Back in the days of the "old Corps" of the 1960's, SOP was the E-1's and E-2's were allowed to report to the Mess hall for a maximum of 30 days mess duty once in a year.

As a Boot buck private, I did not escaped mess duty at Camp Matthews the first week of rifle training and spent a week scrubbing out pots and pans and garbage cans.  I thought my mess duty time was over, wrong.

Memorial Day Civil War Reenactment

 

           The Civil War Reenactment at Roaring Camp.  Memorial Day 2012

It has been awhile since I've attended a reenactment of a battle between the states at the Roaring Camp facility in Scotts Valley, CA., so today was the day I had the time to see it again.

The site is a 15 minute drive from my house so there is not much of an excuse to not go due to distance but Memorial Day is not the easiest day to drive around a town that is a tourist Mecca beginning about this time of year.  But I bit the bullet and drove up to it expecting the worse of traffic.  Surprise, easy sailing.  Even the line to check in at the gate and pay to park was short.

DRUMMED OUT OF THE CORPS

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It is no longer authorized to drum some one out of the Marine Corps and has not been for over 75 years.  So how does the Corps emphasize the dishonor of being kicked out?  The following is a true story, which can be attested to by my former Fire Team Leader.

Computers are not our Friend

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Exciting Computer Adventure

Recently the media has been playing up a most unusual event; no, not the Mayan Apocalypse, A virus for the Mac!  We Mac users have always been very smug about not getting them like the PC users seem to do.  So, letting my paranoia get the best of me, I tried to get my Time Machine working again so I would have a back-up in case the virus came my way and destroyed all of my documents and pictures et all.

My Time Machine filled up and told me to open a new disk when it is suppose to erase the oldest after a certain time.  Apparently my TM didn't do that.   Trying to find out about changing a disc, I even started prying on the TM machine but it foiled my feeble attempts so I unplugged the damn thing and put it out in the garage with my other out-dated and useless electronic equipment.

Vist to MCRD and Camp Pendelton

Dear friends, former jar-heads along with a couple of Army guys ( I know who you are but won't tell the Marines ) oh, and one swab jockey and Coast Guard dependent.

Spent a few days last week down at the old stomping grounds on Camp Pendleton and MCRD checking out what's happening.  My old fire team leader, Dick Svee and I had talked about going down and seeing the Amtrac museum for some time now, so time permitted and away we went.

Walkin' Round in Women's Underwear

Finding Ritual wear in all the odd places.….

By Mykel

Okay, I’m coming out of the closet and admitting that I do NOT wear women’s underwear.  I wear pretty much everything else made for women.  Boots, gypsy pantaloons, over-shirt jackets, tee shirts, sweaters and most anything else that catches my fancy and looks like my style.  What’s my style, you query?  It’s dressing like a pirate on Talk Like a Pirate Day or wearing a witchy top hat and cape to a walk through a corn maze or a Japanese style jacket to a planning meeting.  Comfortable is the plan.  Eye catching is just pure fun.