Nice digs, right?

Cool place, huh?

Survivors and renegades

FRANKLY SPEAKING- Thanksgiving

It was a rag-tag assembly of survivors, escapees, refugees and renegades found living amidst the splendor of the island. In fact, the concept of Thanksgiving seemed very appropriate to their mere existence. They did not blend into their surroundings very well. In fact, they announced their presence to all.

They did not appear, “American”. They didn’t exhibit the traits normally associated with their up-bringing. They were thin and their coats were rather worn and un-kept. No one would welcome their visit to a Thanksgiving feast. They were lean mean survivors. No fat or the plumage that normally adorns their kind. Eye candy was not a descriptive term for them.

But there they were! Parading their stuff! They had moved up! They now lived on a resort golf course just miles from the beach. Their cares were simple, food and companionship. From all appearances they certainly had the latter.

Hmm, simple pleasures!

Frankly Speaking- They Just Won't Work

I was teaching at a Naval Air Maintenance Training Detachment at the Norfolk Naval Air Station. There were 15 of us in the detachment. A Master Chief Petty Officer in Charge, 3 jet mechanics, 3 airframes and hydraulics technicians, 3 aviation electricians and 5 avionics technicians. Our function was to train new maintenance technicians on the equipment specific to the SH-2F Lamps Helicopter as well as the aircraft itself.

I was at the time conducting a training class that was specific to the aircraft and its avionics systems. The general concept was to enable the individual technicians to identify defective assemblies, replace them and send the defective assemblies to an intermediate repair facility. This particular class was the most basic class we taught on the SH-2’s avionics systems. There was really no reason why an individual trained as an avionics technician should struggle with the course. It really was that elemental.

On Friday of each week a test was administered to check the student’s progress. The test questions were given to the students at the beginning of the course. All the student had to do was be able to answer questions he had from the course’s outset. Sounds simple, right?

As luck would have it racial discord in the ranks was an issue at the time. There was an African-American student in the class and guess who failed the first progress exam. The protocol was well defined and I proceeded to place the young man on academic probation. He objected citing that the instructor (that was me) had a prejudice against Black students.

I took the matter to the detachment office, advised the Chief in Charge. I wasn’t concerned that the matter had arisen. I felt certain the tension would ease and the class would continue as normal.

Everyone agreed that academic probation was the correct action to take and I returned to the classroom. The class for the rest of the day was a review of the test and any areas that the students felt needed further explanation. So there I stood in front of the class, suddenly, Bill entered the classroom and walked over to the podium, he laid his clenched fist on my lesson plan and without saying a word opened the fist to expose a black cricket. I cracked up! Bill walked back to the door and propped himself up against the door frame. One of the students then asked, “What’s so funny?” Right, I’ve got a class that includes a student that says I’m racially insensitive. Sure I’m going to tell the story!

Bill did now hesitate. He looked at me and said, “Tell ‘em Frank!” Well he did have several years seniority on me. Bill was a fishing buddy and just a generally nice guy. Interestingly enough he was also black.

Several months earlier Bill and I had gone fishing at a Naval Annex on the Colonial Parkway. The bait that we had used on the trip was crickets. We had tremendously good luck that day. Our catch was fantastic! The following Monday I was in the detachment office telling the rest of the guys how well we had done. Someone asked what we were using for bait and I told them, “crickets”. Another of the instructors wanted to know where we got them, so I told them where they came from and how much they cost. Someone piped in with the observation that we should have asked him and he would have given us all we needed from his house. I immediately asked what kind of crickets he had at his house.

I did not realize that Bill had entered the office and was standing directly behind me. The other instructor told me that the crickets at his house were all black. I advised him that the crickets we used were grey. He wanted to know what was wrong with the black crickets (I think the shell is too hard). But that is not what I said. With Bill standing silently behind me I said, “I don’t know they just won’t work.” Bill tapped me on the shoulder. “What kind of a racist comment is that Frank.” We joked and kidded about my racial prejudice toward black crickets.

When I finished Bill addressed the class. “Frank is a personal and professional friend. There is no favoritism or prejudice in his classroom. And, I don’t appreciate anyone saying there is. If this matter comes up again I will personally escort (obviously the language has been sanitized) the offending party out of this building and charge the person with dereliction of duty and conduct unbecoming a member of the United States Navy. Any question?” Hearing none Bill turned and walked off.

There were no further disruptions in the class and all students passed the class.

Frankly Speaking- Eric, Dorothy, Toto, Me & the Tornado

Eric and I had hiked from the thriving metropolis of Plainville KS to the lake to enjoy a day’s fishing and whatever else two 13 year old boys could get into. Other than the fact that I managed to pretty well lob off the end of my right index finger opening a can of Vienna Sausages the first part of the day was uneventful. Granted, the finger did need stitches but I was young, bullet-proof, macho and tough. Hey, I was 13! That was a real wound! I even had to briefly explain it when the U.S. Navy fingerprinted me.

As the day wore on clouds began to build on the western horizon. Not concerned we continued our fishing expedition. However I should note that the only fish I ever saw caught in the lake were when it was going dry and the authorities opened it to seining, netting, gigging and any other fishing techniques save poison and dynamite. The city swimming pool seemed the logical place to deposit all those fish. But that’s another story.

As the day wore on the clouds on the horizon weren’t on the horizon anymore. The clouds were moving toward us. They weren’t just clouds anymore either. They were thunder boomers! The clouds turned green; Eric and I decided we needed to head for home. Too late; it was two miles to our houses and we only had enough time to go a mile and a half. The old wives tale about green clouds warning of impending hail is not an old wives tale! When we were one half mile from Eric’s house the sky opened up and pelted us with marble sized hail. But we journeyed on!

We arrived at Eric’s and went upstairs to dry off and warm up. It’s funny, but I can still remember the record we were playing on Eric’s phonograph. “Wipe Out,” by the Ventures. Oh, and for those to young to remember; phonographs were the ancient predecessor to the CD player which was preceded by the cassette player which was preceded by the 8-track, and hi-fi wasn’t and I don’t think any of us had stereo anything. But there we sat unwinding from the rigors of the day.

Suddenly the siren sounded! Now for those not used to life in rural Kansas, the siren was the town’s warning system. It sounded to summon the volunteer fire department when some ole man’s barn caught fire. It sounded at noon every day (I always supposed it beat all the lady folk having to call the men folk to lunch). Finally, it was the imminent warning that a tornado had been sighted and the community was in danger. In the event of a fire or lunch the siren wailed then waned and then wailed again. In the event of a tornado it just wailed, and wailed, and wailed. On this day it did the later!

Being the good son I was I immediately called home to see if mom wanted me to come home. Otherwise I’d just wait it out at Eric’s house. Mom’s decision was that I should come home. Today that would probably be construed as child endangerment. But it was only about 100 yards from Eric’s house to ours. So off I went.

It was 100 feet to the gate at the back of Eric’s yard and I was walking out the gate when I heard something breaking or crashing. I looked over and saw the next door neighbor’s antenna crashing to the ground. I then looked up. OH MY GOD!!! I was looking up into the vortex of a tornado. Ok, so it was about 100 yards home. I guarantee that had someone had a stop-watch on me I would still hold the world’s record for the 100 yard dash. And Eric’s back yard was directly behind Dorothy’s. And I was scared!

I ran into the kitchen where mom stood with my brothers and my baby sister. I babbled and blubbered insistence that everyone get down into the basement, but they weren’t listening to me! We watched as Scotty (the High School Janitor) and his wife (Leonna, I believe) made their way down the alley that separated our yard from the high school. How long did that all take? A couple of minutes I’m sure. And unless I ran faster than a tornado and/or time moves the tornado had to be long gone.

The Civil Defense Siren stopped its loud obnoxious song! We all wandered out into the backyard and there to the east was the cloud. As I recall it had 5 funnel clouds dangling from it. It may have only been three but it’s my story and I’m sticking to five. Four (or two if you prefer) of the twisters were your basic run of the mill tornados. But the other one was a monster!

We didn’t have F1 through F5 category tornadoes at the time. We had monsters, tornadoes and possible tornadoes. If there were no witnesses, then any damages the storm generated were at the hands of tornadic winds. And that’s exactly the way the news media reported them. Not possible, probable or likely tornadoes. The damage was caused by tornadic winds.

Eric and I lived to wreck havoc on the community another day! Dorothy, her house and Toto her dog were not influenced by the day’s events. We found no yellow brick road, no ruby slippers and no witches. Except possibly Miss Rounder, the elderly matron, that was our English teacher and the school librarian. Oh yes, life on the plains of Kansas!

Hannah' Blog

Ok, I have to hype my granddaughter. Check out her blog at http://hannahhaven.blogspot.com

Proof of Title

I thank Bob Parks & Aunt Mimi for this one!

A New Orleans lawyer sought an FHA loan for a client. He was told the loan would be granted if he could prove satisfactory title to a parcel of property being offered as collateral. The title to the property dated back to 1803, which took the Lawyer three months to track down. After sending the information to the FHA, he received the following reply.

(Actual letter):

"Upon review of your letter adjoining your client's loan application, we note that the request is supported by an Abstract of Title. While we compliment the able manner in which you have prepared and presented the application, we must point out that you have only cleared title to the proposed collateral property back to 1803. Before final approval can be accorded, it will be necessary to clear the title back to its origin."

Annoyed, the lawyer responded as follows (actual letter):

"Your letter regarding title in Case No. 189156 has been received. I note that you wish to have title extended further than the 194 years covered by the present application. I was unaware that any educated person in this country, particularly those working in the property area, would not know that Louisiana was purchased, by the U.S., from France in 1803, the year of origin identified in our application.

For the edification of uninformed FHA bureaucrats, the title to the land prior to U.S. ownership was obtained from France, which had acquired it by Right of Conquest from Spain. The land came into the possession of Spain by Right of Discovery made in the year 1492 by a sea captain named Christopher Columbus, who had been granted the privilege of seeking a new route to India by the Spanish monarch, Isabella. The good queen, Isabella, being pious woman and almost as careful about titles as the FHA, took the precaution of securing the blessing of the Pope before she sold her jewels to finance Columbus' expedition.

Now the Pope, as I'm sure you may know, is the emissary of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and God, it is commonly accepted, created this world. Therefore, I believe it is safe to presume that God also made that part of the world called Louisiana. God, therefore, would be the owner of origin and His origins date back, to before the beginning of time, the world as we know it AND the FHA. I hope you find God's original claim to be satisfactory.

Now, may we have our loan?"

The loan was approved.

Quote of the Day

The most terrifying words in the English language are: 'I'm from the government and I'm here to help'."

-- Ronald Reagan