School was in walking distance. There were no such thing as snow days. Our parents equipped us with snow boots, hats, scarves, and gloves to endure the wintry elements. I recall walking over a foot bridge that spanned a small creek. This was the half point between school and home.
We crossed the major road into Schilling and across which the school stood under the watchful eye of a Saline County Sherrif's deputy. To me, it was reassuring to see a strong male presence watching over us. There just were not a lot of adult men around Schilling. We got to know them by face, the friendly ones and and the stern ones. Nevertheless, they were always a welcome sight.
Having attended Catholic schools up to then, it was a real treat to attend school that had a gym with basketball hoops, volley ball courts, and plenty of athletic equipment. I recall being introduced to tether ball, soccer, volley ball, and softball during recess which always encompassed athletic activities.
There was plenty of educational media to accompany our books. We must have watched educational film strips several times a week. Once a week, an art teacher came in as well as a music teacher who pushed in her portable piano.
I have to say that these were my happiest days of attending school. Very little peer pressure, great teachers, abundant resources. I could not wait to get to school in those days to be greeted by the warm and friendly smile of our teacher as we entered class.
Such idyllic surroundings made it easy to forget that our fathers were in far away places, some in greater proximity to harm's way than others. That was until we would head home and occassionally see an official military vehicle parked in front of a home. The assumption was that the officials who arrived in that vehicle had bad news to convey. Most of us would just keep walking quickly past the vehicle. I recall that I actually had a classmate whose father did not return alive from Viet Nam. She did not finish the school year with us.
On occasion, I would come home to find my mother somewhat preoccupied. Eventually, I came to realize that this preoccupation was the result of hearing that Tan San Knut had been the target of another rocket attack and that U.S. casualities had been incurred.
Tomorrow, more on how the "waiting wives" supported each other.
Schilling Manor Days - Richmond Court - Salina, KS - Part 1
In 1967, it was called Schilling Manor. Previously, it had been Schilling Air Force Base. The Air Force closed it down a few years earlier. I seem to recall a sign either at the entrance or on the base referring to Schilling Manor as "Home of the Waiting Wives".
In those days, its purpose was to house the families of military service members serving overseas, particularly Viet Nam. It was self-contained community of schools, playgrounds, church, community center, commissary, post exchange, and medical center. For those who did not drive, there was some shuttle bus service to these facilities. We arrived in November, 1967 and lived on Richmond Court. Though we lived there about 13 months, it was memorable time for both internal and external events.
There are many recollections of those 13 months. In particular, I recall the diversity of our neighbors which included mothers who were: American Indian, German, British, Japanese, Korean, as well as American. It was a veritable cornucopia of diversity. We live in military housing yet the house had a garage and basement. As this was Kansas, tornadoes were a threat though I do not recall one while we lived there.
School was in walking distance and we came home for lunch consisting typically of PBJ and Lipton chicken noodle soup which was perfect for those cold Kansas winter days. My 4th grade teacher's fiance was serving in Viet Nam. I enjoyed school very much in those days. I recall the principal who, much to the chagrin of teachers, played Game 7 of the '68 World Series over the school's PA system. In those days, the World Series was played during the day. Our teacher proceeded with instruction despite this. I have no idea what she covered that afternoon as I had focused soley on the Tigers' Mickey Lolich pitching his team to victory despite going on short rest from his Game 5 win a few days earlier.
I recall that the local paper, the Salina Journal, an afternoon edition did not publish baseball boxscores daily, just on Sundays. I felt out of touch with my Red Sox.
In those days, some fathers sent back jackets from their assigned places. Most kids my age wore such jackets emblazened on the back with the names: Da Nang, Mekong Delta, Pleiku, Cam Rahn Bay, etc.
The move from Land Avenue in Tampa to Richmond Court in Salina seemed to be a natural progression. There was a common bond among families: their fathers were serving overseas. As I reflect upon this, we were living in a community of single parent households though temporary in nature. I realized then that Viet Nam had impacted the lives of many others besides my family.
More on the Schilling Manor days tomorrow.
In those days, its purpose was to house the families of military service members serving overseas, particularly Viet Nam. It was self-contained community of schools, playgrounds, church, community center, commissary, post exchange, and medical center. For those who did not drive, there was some shuttle bus service to these facilities. We arrived in November, 1967 and lived on Richmond Court. Though we lived there about 13 months, it was memorable time for both internal and external events.
There are many recollections of those 13 months. In particular, I recall the diversity of our neighbors which included mothers who were: American Indian, German, British, Japanese, Korean, as well as American. It was a veritable cornucopia of diversity. We live in military housing yet the house had a garage and basement. As this was Kansas, tornadoes were a threat though I do not recall one while we lived there.
School was in walking distance and we came home for lunch consisting typically of PBJ and Lipton chicken noodle soup which was perfect for those cold Kansas winter days. My 4th grade teacher's fiance was serving in Viet Nam. I enjoyed school very much in those days. I recall the principal who, much to the chagrin of teachers, played Game 7 of the '68 World Series over the school's PA system. In those days, the World Series was played during the day. Our teacher proceeded with instruction despite this. I have no idea what she covered that afternoon as I had focused soley on the Tigers' Mickey Lolich pitching his team to victory despite going on short rest from his Game 5 win a few days earlier.
I recall that the local paper, the Salina Journal, an afternoon edition did not publish baseball boxscores daily, just on Sundays. I felt out of touch with my Red Sox.
In those days, some fathers sent back jackets from their assigned places. Most kids my age wore such jackets emblazened on the back with the names: Da Nang, Mekong Delta, Pleiku, Cam Rahn Bay, etc.
The move from Land Avenue in Tampa to Richmond Court in Salina seemed to be a natural progression. There was a common bond among families: their fathers were serving overseas. As I reflect upon this, we were living in a community of single parent households though temporary in nature. I realized then that Viet Nam had impacted the lives of many others besides my family.
More on the Schilling Manor days tomorrow.
Land Avenue in Tampa Florida
My parents purchased a house on Land Avenue in Tampa, Florida in 1965. I remember many things about this house, mainly that it did not have central a/c. In the summer time, I recall how either crop planes or trucks dumped heavy anti-misquito spray throughout the neighborhood creating a dense fog-like atmosphere. Most memories of mine from that period were far from idyllic.
I can trace back my earliest memories of baseball at this time. In those days, the Cincinnati Reds held their spring training at Al Lopez Field which was located next a lot that eventually became Tampa Stadium. I recall how one of my neighbors had gotten the autograph of Pete Rose on their baseball bat. My father purchased my brother Mike and me our first baseball gloves. I believed his was autographed by Gil McDougald.
While race riots broke out in Detroit, Watts, and other areas, Tampa, too, had its own experience with riots. Those hot summers ushered in the calling in of the National Guard in these cities to bring normalcy back to race-torn neighborhoods.
I also remember that many military families lived in our neighborhood given its proximity to McDill Air Force Base which at the time was headquarters for the Tactical Air Command and Strike Command. The Viet Nam war was escalating at that time. LBJ was President and was given much leeway on running the war via the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution.
Here is what I recall about hour neighbors and how the war impacted their lives:
1. facing the street, our neighbors to the right had a father who served 2-3 tours in Da Nang
2. to our left, lived an Air Force military policeman who worked McDill's busy front gate
3. to their left lived a family whose father was an Army Lieutenant missing in action; they had a German shepard guard dog, named Newton, who we feared would jump the fence and attack us
4. three houses to their left lived the wife of an Air Force pilot who had been shot down and missing in action
5. right across the street from us lived a Naval pilot had been shot down and missing in action
6. there were several more military households which were not as adversely impacted by the war at that time
7. in 1967, my father received orders to Viet Nam and was assigned to Tan San Knut Air Base in Saigon
Years later, I watched a "Wonder Years' episode in which Winny Cooper's brother had been killed in the Viet Nam war and chronicled the Cooper family's travails afterwards.
In reflecting back on those days, I cannot help but think of the families impacted by the wars in Irag and Afghanistan today. History seems to be repeating itself as our country is mired in another war, actually two, where there seems to be neither victory nor successful exit.. Yet, our soldiers continue to get killed or wounded and families greatly impacted.
Tomorrow, from Land Avenue in Tampa to Richmond Court in Kansas.
I can trace back my earliest memories of baseball at this time. In those days, the Cincinnati Reds held their spring training at Al Lopez Field which was located next a lot that eventually became Tampa Stadium. I recall how one of my neighbors had gotten the autograph of Pete Rose on their baseball bat. My father purchased my brother Mike and me our first baseball gloves. I believed his was autographed by Gil McDougald.
While race riots broke out in Detroit, Watts, and other areas, Tampa, too, had its own experience with riots. Those hot summers ushered in the calling in of the National Guard in these cities to bring normalcy back to race-torn neighborhoods.
I also remember that many military families lived in our neighborhood given its proximity to McDill Air Force Base which at the time was headquarters for the Tactical Air Command and Strike Command. The Viet Nam war was escalating at that time. LBJ was President and was given much leeway on running the war via the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution.
Here is what I recall about hour neighbors and how the war impacted their lives:
1. facing the street, our neighbors to the right had a father who served 2-3 tours in Da Nang
2. to our left, lived an Air Force military policeman who worked McDill's busy front gate
3. to their left lived a family whose father was an Army Lieutenant missing in action; they had a German shepard guard dog, named Newton, who we feared would jump the fence and attack us
4. three houses to their left lived the wife of an Air Force pilot who had been shot down and missing in action
5. right across the street from us lived a Naval pilot had been shot down and missing in action
6. there were several more military households which were not as adversely impacted by the war at that time
7. in 1967, my father received orders to Viet Nam and was assigned to Tan San Knut Air Base in Saigon
Years later, I watched a "Wonder Years' episode in which Winny Cooper's brother had been killed in the Viet Nam war and chronicled the Cooper family's travails afterwards.
In reflecting back on those days, I cannot help but think of the families impacted by the wars in Irag and Afghanistan today. History seems to be repeating itself as our country is mired in another war, actually two, where there seems to be neither victory nor successful exit.. Yet, our soldiers continue to get killed or wounded and families greatly impacted.
Tomorrow, from Land Avenue in Tampa to Richmond Court in Kansas.
Person of Influence
He stood six feet and 5 inches. As a graduate of Virginia State on a ROTC scholarship, he became an infantry officer who served in Viet Nam. As a mere 19-year old Army Specialist, I will admit to being intimidated by this towering officer.
I first encountered Lt. Colonel Samuel Edward Simmons upon being called into his office. Being a bit nervous, I answered his questions and must have uttered "Sir" at least 2 times for every word I spoke. Relieved that the interaction was almost over but before I could leave, he asked "where are you from in the world?" (the question used by us assigned to Germany for where are you from in the USA?)
My response was "Sir, I am from a small town that you probably never heard of called Hopewell, VA". To which, he responded excitedly "I'm from Petersburg, VA.!" This provided us with a common bond. In the military, the world gets much smaller.
I came to respect Colonel Simmons greatly. Like, Omar Bradley, he was a soldier's officer always taking time to talk with the enlisted, share a smoke break, and always watching out for their well being. Despite having risen to the rank of Lt. Colonel, he often experienced discrimination for being African-American, not being a graduate of West Point, and having left the Infantry for the Adjutant General's Corps (administration). That discrimination he experienced enabled him to empathize with the enlisted and provided him with a unique bond with others. He practically knew, addressed, and referred to all of us enlisted by our first names.
As my assignment in Germany was concluding, Colonel Simmons asked me where I wanted to be reassigned. I had clear idea. So, he suggested Carlisle Barracks, PA which was home of the Army's War College. His plans were to return to Carlisle Barracks, finish out his time, and then retire. He assured me that this was done deal as he had contacts. Well, his contacts weren't as solid as he thought. We both ended up at Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland. I concluded my enlistment working for Colonel Simmons at Aberdeen.
Colonel Simmons taught me much in the realm of interacting with others. He had a self-deprecating humor that disarmed others and drew people close to him. In retrospect, I believe he had natural charisma that transcended his physical presence. I wish that I could have worked with him longer to learn more and emulate him.
I first encountered Lt. Colonel Samuel Edward Simmons upon being called into his office. Being a bit nervous, I answered his questions and must have uttered "Sir" at least 2 times for every word I spoke. Relieved that the interaction was almost over but before I could leave, he asked "where are you from in the world?" (the question used by us assigned to Germany for where are you from in the USA?)
My response was "Sir, I am from a small town that you probably never heard of called Hopewell, VA". To which, he responded excitedly "I'm from Petersburg, VA.!" This provided us with a common bond. In the military, the world gets much smaller.
I came to respect Colonel Simmons greatly. Like, Omar Bradley, he was a soldier's officer always taking time to talk with the enlisted, share a smoke break, and always watching out for their well being. Despite having risen to the rank of Lt. Colonel, he often experienced discrimination for being African-American, not being a graduate of West Point, and having left the Infantry for the Adjutant General's Corps (administration). That discrimination he experienced enabled him to empathize with the enlisted and provided him with a unique bond with others. He practically knew, addressed, and referred to all of us enlisted by our first names.
As my assignment in Germany was concluding, Colonel Simmons asked me where I wanted to be reassigned. I had clear idea. So, he suggested Carlisle Barracks, PA which was home of the Army's War College. His plans were to return to Carlisle Barracks, finish out his time, and then retire. He assured me that this was done deal as he had contacts. Well, his contacts weren't as solid as he thought. We both ended up at Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland. I concluded my enlistment working for Colonel Simmons at Aberdeen.
Colonel Simmons taught me much in the realm of interacting with others. He had a self-deprecating humor that disarmed others and drew people close to him. In retrospect, I believe he had natural charisma that transcended his physical presence. I wish that I could have worked with him longer to learn more and emulate him.
Industrial Age Work Habits
We are all inundated with literature talking about the Information Age in which we now live. The proliferation of data is mind boggling. The terminologies are mind numbing.
Yet, I find myself befuddled with human behavior, including my own, particularly in the workplace. We have modern servers that can house terabytes of data and front-end user interfaces to facilitate the capture of electronic notes. Yet, I still see the ubiquitous 3M sticky notes everywhere, including on my desk.
We have on-line banking yet some folks still deposit their checks on pay day.
We can file our taxes electronically, yet, some of us (including me) still file via the US Mail.
We still employ Industrial Age work habits in this Information Age. I see this as analagous to me using the old manual lawn mower to cut my grass instead of a Briggs-Stratton gas powered riding mower or a swing blade to trim instead of a gas powered or electric weed eater.
Later blogs to cover the "Digital Divide" and "Industrial Age Management" in this Information Age.
Yet, I find myself befuddled with human behavior, including my own, particularly in the workplace. We have modern servers that can house terabytes of data and front-end user interfaces to facilitate the capture of electronic notes. Yet, I still see the ubiquitous 3M sticky notes everywhere, including on my desk.
We have on-line banking yet some folks still deposit their checks on pay day.
We can file our taxes electronically, yet, some of us (including me) still file via the US Mail.
We still employ Industrial Age work habits in this Information Age. I see this as analagous to me using the old manual lawn mower to cut my grass instead of a Briggs-Stratton gas powered riding mower or a swing blade to trim instead of a gas powered or electric weed eater.
Later blogs to cover the "Digital Divide" and "Industrial Age Management" in this Information Age.
A Daughter's Love and Devotion
For almost 4 years now, I have witnessed how my wife honors her mother daily. Prior to and since her father's death, my wife has been a devoted daughter to her mother.
She takes care of all her mother's financial matters: bills; taxes; investments; and, property. She consults the hospice officials regarding her mother's health and treatments. She keeps her mother's prescriptions organized and up to date as well as other supplies. During this time, she has become well-versed in medications I have never heard of and knows how to administer them. She maintains detailed and meticulous daily charts on her mother's medications, meals, and other statistics. While her mother was in assisted living, Lynn had to fight her mother's battles over care issues.
She oversaw the addition to our home and kept the builder in line and on time.
I have witnessed how her own health has been impacted in this caregiver role. Her sleep is sporadic. She has aches and pains from lifting and pulling on her mother. Coupled with her job, she has much stress in her life and no time for herself.
Yet, she runs her mother's affairs and household with the skill of a trained military quartermaster. I affectionately refer to her as "the General".
In short, she has put her life on hold for the sake of her mother. What devotion! She is an inspiration to me and others. I am very proud to have a wife who is so devoted to her mother and honors her daily. While I have witnessed some many elderly parents relegated to assisted living arrangements with very little visits from children, I am so very mindful as to the burden and labor of love my wife has taken on her shoulders. It truly is a rarity in this day and age.
She takes care of all her mother's financial matters: bills; taxes; investments; and, property. She consults the hospice officials regarding her mother's health and treatments. She keeps her mother's prescriptions organized and up to date as well as other supplies. During this time, she has become well-versed in medications I have never heard of and knows how to administer them. She maintains detailed and meticulous daily charts on her mother's medications, meals, and other statistics. While her mother was in assisted living, Lynn had to fight her mother's battles over care issues.
She oversaw the addition to our home and kept the builder in line and on time.
I have witnessed how her own health has been impacted in this caregiver role. Her sleep is sporadic. She has aches and pains from lifting and pulling on her mother. Coupled with her job, she has much stress in her life and no time for herself.
Yet, she runs her mother's affairs and household with the skill of a trained military quartermaster. I affectionately refer to her as "the General".
In short, she has put her life on hold for the sake of her mother. What devotion! She is an inspiration to me and others. I am very proud to have a wife who is so devoted to her mother and honors her daily. While I have witnessed some many elderly parents relegated to assisted living arrangements with very little visits from children, I am so very mindful as to the burden and labor of love my wife has taken on her shoulders. It truly is a rarity in this day and age.
Profit versus Purpose
"Greed is good" is how Gordon Greco, played by Michael Douglas, in the movie "Wall Street" described his view of capitalism.
In business schools, many courses are devoted to profit maximation. Taking a loss is a sign of failure (except for tax purposes).
In Daniel H. Pink's book "Drive", he stresses that those who pursue purpose (intrinsic rewards) are prone to be happier, richer, and more fulilled than those who are purely driven by profit (extrinsic rewards). Some innovative entrepeneurs, like TOM's shoes operate under "One for One. TOMS Shoes was founded on a simple premise: With every pair you purchase, TOMS will give a pair of new shoes to a child in need." What a dual purpose!
But, what about the rest of us? What is our purpose for getting up everyday? We all need to have purpose in our every day lives lest our activities are simply going through the motions. Then, ruts appear.
I recall when many of us devoted practically every Saturday for a few years ago in building Bethlehem Walk. Knowing that I had much to do at home and at work, I was able to keep myself going by one thing: the purpose of helping to build Bethlehem village would enable the gospel of salvation to be shared by many throughout the community. That is what kept me and many others going through long hours of, what was for me, hard labor. That purpose further kept me and the cast going through sometimes five consecutive nights of being out in the elements until close to midnight.
I have a dear friend who works daily with the purpose that his efforts may result in employer-provided bonuses that will enable him to help fund the Christian education of those who cannot afford it. What an altruistic purpose for us to emulate. His example reminds me to assess my purpose daily.
In business schools, many courses are devoted to profit maximation. Taking a loss is a sign of failure (except for tax purposes).
In Daniel H. Pink's book "Drive", he stresses that those who pursue purpose (intrinsic rewards) are prone to be happier, richer, and more fulilled than those who are purely driven by profit (extrinsic rewards). Some innovative entrepeneurs, like TOM's shoes operate under "One for One. TOMS Shoes was founded on a simple premise: With every pair you purchase, TOMS will give a pair of new shoes to a child in need." What a dual purpose!
But, what about the rest of us? What is our purpose for getting up everyday? We all need to have purpose in our every day lives lest our activities are simply going through the motions. Then, ruts appear.
I recall when many of us devoted practically every Saturday for a few years ago in building Bethlehem Walk. Knowing that I had much to do at home and at work, I was able to keep myself going by one thing: the purpose of helping to build Bethlehem village would enable the gospel of salvation to be shared by many throughout the community. That is what kept me and many others going through long hours of, what was for me, hard labor. That purpose further kept me and the cast going through sometimes five consecutive nights of being out in the elements until close to midnight.
I have a dear friend who works daily with the purpose that his efforts may result in employer-provided bonuses that will enable him to help fund the Christian education of those who cannot afford it. What an altruistic purpose for us to emulate. His example reminds me to assess my purpose daily.
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