Another Woman In My Life

A few of you may have read my blog about the woman in my life (March of 2006). I wrote that some time ago. Now, in response to a belated and somewhat hostile occurrence from yet another woman, I had better mention and elucidate this other lovely period in my life.

After leaving the USNR in Boston, I moved to Alabama. A large (1 mile by 18 miles) TVA lake was near my new home. While in Boston, I had taken a coast guard course in sailing. This was a didactic class and not on the water. I had an interest in sailing nonetheless. A friend offered me the use of his sleek little 21 foot day sailor. It was impossible to capsize, had a small cabin for sails, a self bailing cockpit, and a small outboard engine. I jumped at his offer, and before long, I was on the water putting theory into practice. Thus, began a love affair of some years. The sloop was easily rigged by one person, and did a fine job sailing with only minimal attention.

A six pack and a portable radio was all that was needed to enjoy a day on the water listening to a ball game and traveling back and forth in the lake. Two or three others could join me. The boat was broad minded about others sharing our time together. Of course, I did a bit of work on her appearance and bought her some new clothes in the form of sails, etc. My mind also turned to reading sailing magazines, and I fancied myself as a novice racer. I was even elected to be vice-commodore for sail at the club where we slept. Sailors are an open minded bunch, and we never heard a word about our cohabitation.

My head was turned by pictures in the magazine, "Sail", of larger and more beautiful examples of sailing mistresses. As a former president of the USA said, "I lusted after them in my heart". With passing time, I yielded to temptation. This vixen was called "Hedonist". She was drop dead gorgeous, 31 feet long, and without being crude, she was fast! She was custom made and a bit wild. Like a lot of beautiful women, she could be tempestuous. An inboard Diesel engine,  galley, head, and bunks for at least four were a few of her physical attributes. It was love at first sight, and I abandoned my first love to a friend. Then we drove her through town on her trailer with many locals aghast, and floated her bottom in the lake.

I had visited the boatyard in NY before possessing her. All seemed in order except there were few people who spoke English. This was New York, so I assumed that was a local oddity. It became clear later that many of those workers, did not have a clue as to what they were doing. More on that comes later. A friend with some sailing knowledge agreed to come with me to the launch. Then we spent the night waiting to travel through the lock on the river the next AM. The boat yard left the slings under her tummy that night (good move on their part). Before we left the next morning, I gave the bilge pump a couple of swings. Guess what? The bilge held a significant amount of water! Enough so the lift was used to raise her, and a leak in the hull shot out a very thin stream of water. Now, I knew already that girls are said by some to have an imperfect plumbing system, but this woman was brand new! When the water stopped, one could see a half inch or less screw hole that had not been sealed. A nickel's worth of epoxy cured that in a hurry.

OK, so all evidence of domestic abuse cleared, my friend and I made our way to the Wilson Dam Lock, tooted our horn, went into this cavern that filled with water, and motored out into the lake. Thereafter began a decade of bliss (almost) with this beautiful and only occasionally fussy woman. She never won any racing trophies but was still acclaimed the best looking woman in the area. She taught me several lessons. With a girl her size, she needs attention on a frequent basis. Things like baths, bottom scrubs, lines renewed, winches polished, etc. were part of our loving rituals. If a single person could rig her, the air for sailing had to be pretty poor. A second person was needed to help her with her clothes. Twice, we had a problem. Once, a humorous one and later a real crisis. The first could have have been serious but was not. My son saved the day. On a beautiful Sunday afternoon with some nice air about, my son and my best friend's wife went for a sail along with me. It was October I believe. The best winds and no summer's boats to run about made it ideal. Cruising slowly along, we suddenly STOPPED!  I knew we were in the mud immediately. Three PM on a fall afternoon, and it would be dark soon. I tried the things the coast guard had suggested to free a boat that was aground. Shifting weights, engine reversed, sails up to blow us off the bottom, etc. Nothing helped. My wife and my friend's husband knew where we were. Help would eventually show up but when? The lake was deserted, and we were stuck! I was marooned with another man's wife on the lake. I thought both our spouses would be understanding, and thank God, my son was there to chaperone us. Then I spotted a nice looking power boat half mile away. With great noise and bodily gyrations, they finally made out that we were not drunks and motored over. With a quick tow off the mud. We made it home without any problem.

Another ailment afflicted my dear lady later on in her life with me. In winter, I always drained her engine blocks and kept a burning light in the compartment with her engine. One particular winter we had several days of temperatures in the teens. Two or three times a week, I would leave work and visit the boat to make sure the light was on, the sea cock closed, and the bilge was dry. This particular evening, all seemed in order EXCEPT the two engine blocks seemed to have a thin line of rust over their painted surface. They were both cracked. Diesels are simple engines but with cracked blocks there is no compression. Compression, fuel, and air are all that a diesel needs. Two out of three won't do. The next weekend, I drove a hundred miles or so to pick up a couple of new blocks. While in the store, a nice young man said, "doc you might want to pick up one of these two dollar manuals on how to install blocks". I am sure that this young man made a great CEO or board chairman for that insight. I grabbed a book and headed home. She was in no pain, but I was in distress. I spent two months working on her nights and weekends with book at hand and new metric tools. Some of those nights were cold and filled with exhortations to a higher power best heard on the golf course only. A dear (since departed) mother in law gave me a torque wrench for Christmas that year. With that, the book, and requisite knowledge on the importance of shims in diesel engines. I did not know a shim from a shiminsky until then. I finally fired the engine up that spring. To my amazement, the thing purred like a kitten. It had never run as smooth. The foreign workers in NY failed to get the concept of shims and diesel compression. I, and the book, had done that with great results!

As with a lot of relationships, changes occur. My lady and I remained together until it was time to make a move where there was no open body of water. With a tear in both of our eyes, she was surveyed and wound up in the arms of another man. A man who I knew would care for her. Since the day he first laid eyes on her, he had extended an offer to buy her favors when the time came. Several years later, I saw her still in the lake, obviously changed with age, but seemingly happy.


  

A Godson Goalie

Some of you know that I have a Swiss Godson. My only Godchild. He is 23 years old now and was ten days old when I moved to CH. He may not be perfect, but he is a good imitation of it. He was always sociable from day one and won all who met him as a toddler by stretching out those small arms to have you hold him.

His father taught him how to ski when he was learning to walk. He has been an athlete since then. With a father who was a goalie and a brother who also played goalie for a local team, he couldn't miss at being on the soccer fields and between the posts. He started as a pee wee, and I think he was always a goalie. Goalies are best if tall and sleek. J is both and deadly serious about goal keeping. He always looks mad at the ball, and I suspect he sees it as his enemy. His development has always been to be the best goalie the area has ever seen.

A few years ago, he had occasion to travel with his team to another area in Germany for a camp or some such. While there for a few days, he partied a lot with his friends. He woke up one morning, and had an epiphany of sorts. He asked himself, if he was going to be serious in his ambitions or not. To the present, he has concentrated on soccer first, and his lovely girlfriend, O. She jerked a knot in him about the same time as the above epiphany. A party with J is a lot of fun. He has a wit that will not quit and has an innate dry humor. He always has a lot of friends.

Last year, he took me to a game in which he did not play. From the time we entered the stadium grounds, it was evident that J had a bunch of friends who greeted him. No surprise to me. J has always been my Godson, and he has always acted like he enjoys that, as much as me. Of course he has a lot of people proud of his success, and they are hopeful for his future as a man and as a goalie. No matter what happens, he will be a success in this game called life. Now, he is close to the "Big Time". He could become a member of Switzerland's national team. This akin to the world series teams in the USA. He could play for other countries anywhere in the soccer world. He could be injured or otherwise reach a level of competition less than the top.

To his credit, he plans for a future away from soccer, if he is unable to continue. After all, the player he replaced is only ten years his junior. Time will tell.......

Christmas, my dad, and JWS

One of my most memorable Christmas experiences was with my dad. He died when I was 18. He was in the Lion's Club as a charter member where we lived in Jackson, Tennessee. This club sponsored a Christmas paper sale every December to raise money to furnish food and toys to those in poverty. Families were selected and screened as to composition, special needs, number and sex of children, among other things. All bags were filled with canned goods, among which was a canned chicken or turkey. Everyone was going to have a fine Christmas dinner!

Some toys were bought, and a lot of acceptable used toys were refurbished by the local firemen in the weeks before Christmas. These were matched to age and sex of the kids in a family. Every kid got a toy.

My dad and I went very early on a Sunday morning to pick up our papers for the team. Early AM for an 8 year old on a Sunday was 5 AM. We met at my dad's office where he had a shot of whiskey for his team. The weather was always winter cold and this was for medicinal purposes. I never got a shot (it would stunt my growth??)

Then we took to the paper routes with the newspapers than were being sold as a donation to the Lion's drive. One learned at my age how some people reacted to an early morning doorbell. In another scene, it was your paper being delivered by a person with his hand out for a donation. 90 % of people knew it was coming anyway. A Christmas tradition. It worked well.

Once the funds were collected, the rest was in the hands of the Lion's Club and the firemen, the remainder went forward. It was always a done deal.

Then came Christmas Eve. A late day (not up at 5 AM but around noon). We all gathered downtown, loaded into big open trucks, and began the deliveries. 

This is where it gets personal! My dad was a believer in many ways, but most importantly, he believed that you got pleasure from what you gave to others. He would call  the police if you ignored his bill and could pay it, but he would give you your glasses, if you were broke.

We drove around on that Christmas Eve to areas that were "poor blacks and whites", and we delivered burlap bags with food and toys to specific addresses. We did this because my dad said "You will feel very good on Christmas morning because you helped us with this". He was absolutely correct. I hauled the bags, along with some of my other buddies on the trucks who did the deliveries.  

That done. I did see that we had done something good. I later learned how much.

JWS was a classmate. He was not a bad guy. His clothes were not so good as mine, but in the 5th grade, boys were not fashion plates, so who cared? We were classmates. At some level, I knew JWS was less well off financially than my family. Again, as a 5th grader, who the hell knew about financial statements?  He was a classmate and a friend.

So, on a given Christmas Eve,  I was on the truck that stopped at JWS's house. We dumped a big burlap bag full of food and toys off to a grownup who took it over to the front door. I think that I knew that we were on to JWS's street then. He had several siblings. In the bag was a year old WW II wooden rifle that I had given to the fireman to renovate. We were all still fighting WW II then, and I had moved onward to other fields of effort. The rifle looked good, and I had killed many bad guys with it.

We moved onward in the area with many more burlap bags that were well received. The day moved forward, and on Christmas Day, as expected, I was happy to have given"back". 

A ten day vacation went by, and I went back to class. The first day, JWS saw me in class. He said, "I knew when I saw that rifle, it was your rifle, and I knew you were my friend".

Boys my age did not ever cry. I did not then, but I do now. JWS now?? I know not after the 5th grade. I do know that he had some joy from my rifle, and my dad proved again that  people should do good things!

Whoa Look at This!

You birds thought:
a. I had the big A and was out to lunch permanently.
b. I had become an introvert.
c. I did not have anything else to say.

None of the above. Just life reminding me that I am getting older. Honestly, I think that I just got tired and was doing too many other things. I still saw many things that I thought worth a blog, but I just did not write them down. If nothing else, this past election put many blog worthy things before my eyes.

Don't think that I am going to launch into political blogs over and over. I do think that it has been long enough now to peek up over the edge of the trenches. I even watched CNN the other day. Everyone will, I think, agree that we live in interesting times these days. I was raised by two parents that voted in every election but never discussed politics with me or each other as far as I know. I went with them to the polls and followed their example.

Am I a conservative or a liberal? I am a mixture of both philosophies. Neither democrat or republican in thought consistently. There is too much lee way between two rather rigid schools of thought. I really believe the voting citizens in our country are largely bi-political and vote a mixed choice most of the time. Where I grew up, a democrat was always elected. People spoke of being "a yellow dog democrat", meaning that before they voted republican, they would vote for a yellow dog. Things have changed now. To have a good chance of election now in my old neck of the woods, you have to court the republicans big time.

I do not think the whole two party system is worth a hill of beans (and I like beans a lot more than politics). So, who did I vote for??? I am not going to tell you because a secret ballot is just what it says. I will tell you that in my immediate family, I am exposed to rabid schools of thought on each side. With that in mind, I did what my dad did the only time he ever told me his vote. I don't know why he did tell me, but I do know when. It was in 1948 when Truman was opposed by Dewey. He had no good opinion of either man. Now, 60 years after his death, I could give him a good argument if we debated on those men now. In any event, I asked him who was his choice between the two. Surprisingly, he told me that he was voting for Senator Strom Thurmond. He said, there was no chance that Thurmond would win on the Dixiecrat ticket, or any other, but my father could still vote and not have to abstain. Does this give a clue as to how I voted this past November? 

My wife, Barbara, has always been about 180 degrees opposite of me in many things. We do discuss politics. This election was no exception, but she is a dear. I have always said that we had a nice life together in many ways, especially in politics. We usually cancel each other out. In 2016, we melded our choices, but they were not the same, still they were otherwise. The main candidates lost us, and two lesser favorites got our votes. So, I guess we still cancelled each other.

Now, it is done. Providence be blessed!  What comes next? Some of my acquaintances are really disturbed both in CH and the USA. Most are not moving to Canada, but I know of one Canadian who refuses to come to the USA while the current president is in office. I think it may be very interesting and possibly advantageous to have a business man run the federal government for a change. I don't envy any person the job no matter sex or color. I know of others of different color and sex that would have been my choice. Refusal to run can be a real indication of intelligence.

I just am going to wait and see. The two year mark is my guide for now. If the opposition does well at that point, then we all should have a better idea. In the meantime, I plan to do the same as with the last president. I will honor the office but reserve judgment on the holder. This is what I tell the anxious europeans. They have enough to worry about at home.