Discovery Overflies Washington D.C.




“Tisk, tisk, tisk…”

Departing from the Kennedy Space Center, the Space Shuttle orbiter Discovery was riding aboard the Shuttle Carrier Aircraft (SCA) 905. The orbiter, having been retired from flight with the ending of the Space Shuttle program, was on its way to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum’s Udvar-Hazy facility near Dulles Airport. It was somehow appropriate that SCA905 should be carrying a Shuttle on its final journey, because SCA905 carried the very first orbiter, the Enterprise on its very first flights during the 1977 Approach and Landing Tests (ALT). The circle is complete. Prior to making its final landing, the Discovery was scheduled to make a flyby of Washington D.C.

Like many other people who are local to the Washington area, I went to D.C. to see Discovery and SCA905 flyby. My vantage point was on the roof of my wife's office building about a block away from the National Air and Space Museum. I found myself among a throng of office workers all armed with an assortment of digital cameras, smart phones, camcorders and binoculars.

Eventually SCA905 appeared in the distance and flew past several miles away. It then turned and vanished behind the skyline for short time before turning back and flying almost directly over downtown D.C. Next it flew far off to the west over Virginia and then made a graceful turn and came toward us. A few in the crowd cheered, many clapped and everyone stood mesmerized as SCA905 and Discovery passed to the south and once again vanished in the skyline. After what seemed like a long time the two vehicles reappeared banking to the north. This time they passed gracefully behind the Capitol rotunda, leveled out and flew low and proud just beyond the White House and off to the west again. In the distance we were given the view of the two vehicles banking again around to the south with their course bisected by the Washington Monument in the foreground. For the final time SCA905 and Discovery came around to an easterly course and this time headed straight for us. "This is the money shot," one person said aloud. He was correct, because this final pass was nearly overhead.

As the two vehicles went by on their final pass, the sound of the SCA’s engines was overpowered by the cheering howl that came up from the crowd. It was a noise that didn't resonate just from our rooftop group, but actually echoed across all of Washington D.C. Looking away from the aircraft for a few moments I saw that every single rooftop within sight was crowded with people. Down on the sidewalks and along the Capitol Mall countless people were stopped with their eyes turned skyward. SCA905 and Discovery had the full attention of everyone in a normally bustling Washington D.C.


While the two vehicles were making their final pass somewhere in our crowd I heard a bemoaning lady say "Tisk, tisk, tisk … All that fuel wasted, just to fly around D.C." At that moment it struck me that some people can still be that shortsighted and ill informed. Here we stood, in the nation’s capital, watching more than one and a half billion dollars worth of spaceflight hardware on its way to becoming a museum piece after having served just one quarter of its designed life expectancy and rather than bemoan that level of waste, some people will focus on the cost of jet fuel needed to move it to the museum.


Others in the crowd wondered aloud why it was that our Space Shuttle program had been ended. There are a lot of different answers to that question from different sources. Often those answers are pinned to the point of view of the person answering the question. Although my answer is of course pinned to my point of view, I think it is the one that history will prove correct.


Following the loss of the shuttle orbiter Columbia a panel was formed to study the accident, determine the cause and make recommendations. Titled the "Columbia Accident Investigation Board" (CAIB), it made the recommendation that the Space Shuttle system should be recertified or retired and replaced. It is important to note that the board did not specify what it would take to "recertify" the Shuttle. Using the CAIB’s recommendation, President George W. Bush proposed a new lunar space program, “Constellation,” with vehicles that would replace the Shuttle. His Office of Management and Budget (OMB), however, did not provide adequate funding for the program leaving it, for the remainder of his administration, with an annual shortfall of approximately three billion dollars. During that time, NASA was forced to make do with the shortfall in order to make Constellation happen. They altered their plan, part of which was a plan to retire the Shuttle in 2010 and use its funding to accelerate development of the Constellation vehicles. In the meantime there would be a three-year gap in human spaceflight during which United States astronauts and NASA's partner nation’s astronauts would rent seats on the Russian Soyuz spacecraft in order to get to and from the International Space Station. During the 2008 presidential cycle, candidate Obama noted this situation in an August 16, 2008 paper entitled: "Barack Obama : Advancing the Frontiers of Space Exploration," where he promised to make "… the necessary investments to ensure we close this gap…” and "… Minimize reliance on foreign space capabilities." The paper also stated that Obama "… Endorses the goal of sending human missions to the moon by 2020,” or Constellation. When he was elected, President Obama was in a position to extend the Shuttle program, as all of the support structure and spare parts lines were still functional. However, unless the president acted within his first year to stop the deconstruction of the support paths, they would be shut down and the shuttle would have no choice other than retirement. President Obama voted "present" on that issue and allowed the shuttle to die while at the same time he canceled Constellation. Keep in mind that one of the primary reasons for Shuttle retirement was to transfer its funds to Constellation. When Constellation was canceled there was no real reason for retiring the Shuttle.


So here we are, watching a $1.5 billion machine being turned into a museum piece for no good reason other than lack of vision and lack of leadership. Thus, as I watched SCA905 and Discovery fly by, my thought was “Tisk, tisk, tisk… A museum piece after just over one quarter of its designed lifespan. What a waste."

SECTION 8 PILOTS

This week the public was stunned when a Jetblue captain lost it and went off aboard an aircraft. The subject of pilots "losing it" is, in the aviation community, of similar ilk to sleeping in the cockpit. It happens, but we're never supposed to let the public know. Of course when a Section 8 runs screaming down the aisle it's a bit hard to hide.

That said, here is my best Section 8 story...

I was flying as a First Officer (FO) for a regional carrier in the Midwest. I'd passed up my first chance to make captain because the bid was for the Jetstream 3100 and I wanted nothing to do with that animal. So, I just held out for my chance to come up on the Saab 340. When that happened, however, my vacation bid had just come through and I'd been awarded two weeks back-to-back, in July! THAT never happens. But, if I kept my head down and waited it out, screw-scheduling may just not catch it and I'd get 14 days off in mid-summer. If, however, I took my captain's slot, I'd have to re-bid my vacation. I kept quiet and let "captain" slide past.

So, as summer started, I was the second most senior FO in the company and the number one FO in the northern system. Lots of guys went to captain ahead of me. Of course, as soon as I got out of captain's school, I'd leap-frog all of them anyhow- so, no loss as far as I was concerned. What was important was to protect that vacation bid. One side effect of being the number one FO was that I got top bid on lines, so I rode the sweet-line train all summer and into fall. Along the way, I also seemed to get assigned the newbee captains from down south off and on as well.

On one leg, we picked up a newbee in MSP to take him to CDR where he'd fly with me the next morning while my regular captain, Tim, went to do IOE with another newbee. He strapped into the jumpseat and we blasted off. As we're cruising along making small talk, he leaned over and asked, "Who's this guy I'm flyin' with tomorrow?" Tim looked at me and smiled- this newbee didn't know it was me. I casually reached up and flipped my ID over backward. Tim said, sluring my name, "Oh... Olzlwoski... oh man, didn't they warn you about him?" "No," the newbee murmured puzzled. "He's got a seniority number way higher than mine, how come he's not a captain yet?" "They won't let him." I answered. Tim played along, "Oh yeah, he's a real Section 8." The newbee put his head in his hands, "Don't tell me this man." he moaned. "He's a bad apple," I pressed, "He friggin' slugged a captain once." Tim went on, "They fired him, but the union brought him back." "Is he nuts or somethin'?" the newbee asked in a near panic. "That's puttin' it mildly." Tim sighed. "How nuts?" the newbee asked with growing concern. "He's worse than Brain." I quipped referring to a well-known company Section 8. "Aw shit," the newbee spit, "I gotta fly with this guy and I'm fresh otta IOE!" Tim, of course had to rub it in, "Just guard the crash axe with your knee." he said.

A few agonizing moments passed- then suddenly you could see that the newbee realized that he'd been had. He reached over and flipped my I'd back over and read my name. "You f#%kers." he laughed with relief.

GOTCHA!

After we explained about my vacation bid and my disdain for the Jetstream, he understood.

For those of you who may be wondering, I kept quiet until July 4th and the last leg of my trip before starting vacation. In fact, everyone in the system kept quiet and screw-scheduling did not catch on until we were on the ramp taxing in after that last leg. Then the local operations called the aircraft and tried to give us the message that I was to call screw-scheduling. For some reason, were were just not receiving that radio call... lots of static and stuff. I came off the aircraft and dashed directly to my UAL jumpseat home. These were the days before many of us carried cell phones- so I was GONE! The first day of my vacation screw-scheduling put 43 messages on my machine, 31 the day after and 22 the day after that. Too bad I just was not there so they could contact me and cancel the second week of my vacation. After vacation I put in my captain's bid and got a class two months later. I don't think that newbee ever forgave me for that GOTCHA, of course I was senior to him too.

NEWT’S MOON

Are we still too great a nation to be limited to small dreams?



On January 25, 2012 former Speaker of the House turned presidential candidate Newt Gingrich stood in front of crowd of supporters in Brevard County Florida. In his effort to win the Florida presidential primary, the candidate spoke boldly of his intention to establish a permanent US base on the surface of the moon by the end of his second term in office if he were elected president. This was probably the most ambitious spaceflight challenge to be placed before the American people since JFK's challenge to land a man on the moon and return him safely to the earth before the end of the 1960s.



What is perhaps more telling about the current state of the American spirit then Speaker Gingrich's challenge is the wide spread reaction to it. Although we can normally expect his political opponents to use it against him, or even to mock him, it is almost disturbing to see the same reaction throughout much of the spaceflight community. From spaceflight blogs to spaceflight Internet forums to spaceflight publications many individuals in the aerospace community seem spring-loaded to openly scoff at the very idea that such a lunar ambition would even be considered by a politician, or the United States at this point in time.



In 1977 newly elected California governor Jerry Brown invented a catchphrase that helped him along his political trail. He concocted the concept that our nation was then in an "era of limits." In other words the United States had only a limited amount of money, resources, manpower and will to do limited things. It was a concept that then President Jimmy Carter came to symbolize. However, in his inauguration speech in January of 1981 President Ronald Reagan reminded America and its people that we were “too great a nation to limit ourselves to small dreams.” The wide response to Speaker Gingrich's proposal begs the question; what kind of a nation are we now?

Looking around it could easily be concluded that much of the American spirit that Ronald Reagan sought to awaken has once again grown lethargic. Have we as a people gone from explorers to Xbox addicted couch potatoes? Rather than gazing toward the stars with a desire to go there, are we simply more content to stumble through life myopically fixated on our smart phones endlessly texting pointless dribble? Indeed we live in a time when so many Americans can name every character on the TV series "The Jersey Shore" yet cannot name a single individual on board the international space station. The term “an era of limits” comes to mind.



So, was Newt’s Moon proposal completely outlandish? Was it, as some in the media have called it, "delusional?" Do we really absolutely not have the money to pursue such program? Or, did the speaker, who is a self-proclaimed and admitted "space-buff," simply cast pearls before couch potatoes?



Of course, if we want to be even further discouraged about the future of our nation's space program we need look only as far as Newt Gingrich's opponent’s rebuttal to the speakers moon base proposal. Mitt Romney's canned answer to Newt's moon challenge is as follows: “I believe the right mission for NASA should be determined by a president together with a collection of people from those different areas: from NASA, from the Air Force space program, from our leading universities, and from commercial enterprises. Bring them together, discuss a wide range of options for NASA, and then have NASA not just funded by the federal government, but also by commercial enterprises, have some of the research done in our universities, let’s have a collaborative effort with business, with government, with the military, as well as with their educational institutions, have a mission that once again excites our young people about the potential of space and the commercial potential will pay for itself down the road.”



Excuse me?!



Isn't that exactly what Barack Obama did with the Augustine commission? Apparently in constructing his plan forward for America's space program Gov. Romney and his entire staff overlooked the far-reaching efforts of the Augustine commission where people from different areas: from NASA, from our leading universities and from commercial enterprises- were brought together, studied the problems and offered a series of "options" and then turn their findings over to the Obama administration. The president's people then took the exhaustive study and, in the words of famed NASA flight director and senior manager Wayne Hale, "made hash out of it."



Now candidate Romney is apparently proposing that our nation spend more time and money to cover the same old ground that president Obama already dragged our space effort down. Aside from showing a complete and absolute lack of common knowledge of the current state of affairs in the United States space program, Gov. Romney's proposal offers little in the way of confidence that his administration would be able to recapture America's dominance in human spaceflight.



Likewise, candidates Rick Santorum and Ron Paul appear to have no plan at all for our space program other than to mock Gingrich’s proposal and chuckle uncomfortably as if they had just been asked to explain orbital mechanics in public. Clearly, neither of the two, or their staffs for that matter, have anything other than a remedial concept of human spaceflight. Ron Paul once stated his non-interest in the space program by quipping that “…space travel isn't in the Constitution.”

Of course, Speaker Gingrich's proposal for a moon base to that crowd of Space Coast voters didn't do him a lot of good in his attempt to win the Florida primary. In fact if he were attempting to energize Florida voters he would've probably done better to propose federally mandated senior citizens lanes on all US interstate highways and a federally mandated 15% senior citizens discount on all US airlines. Such a hallow promise may have gotten more of the attention of many of Florida’s voters. Thus, we can conclude that this presidential race likely have little to do with the future of United States human spaceflight. In fact other issues which loom in importance yet have a far shorter reach in the advancement of human civilization- such as which candidate made which gaff in which debate- will likely decide the outcome of the election. This article, however, is not intended to show that one candidate would make a better overall president of another candidate. Rather, is intended as a mirror for us to use to examine where we are and what are our priorities at this moment are. Frankly, I would just find it uplifting to have a candidate simply step forward and say to the American people, “We are too great a nation to limit ourselves to small dreams,” and not be mocked, lampooned and shunned for doing so.

The bottom line appears to be that no matter who wins the presidency in 2012 the outlook for NASA’s human spaceflight program appears to be pretty bleak. If Ron Paul wins, the United States space program will simply be erased. If Rick Santorum wins, the direction will be that we have “better things to do with our money right now.” i.e. an era of limits. If Mitt Romney wins we will have “ObamaSpace light.” If Newt Gingrich wins, any effort to advance his challenge to return to the moon will be murdered in the liberal main-stream media. And we have already seen the “de-development” of the Obama administration as applied to NASA- one can only imagine the nightmare of a second term where he will have nothing to lose. So, in November we must all do our duty and vote. If you vote spaceflight, however, be ready to be disappointed.

SLS Mobile Launcher on the roll

SLS Mobile Launcher on the roll


On the 24th day of July 1965, at NASA's Kennedy space Center, a crawler transporter moved and Apollo Mobile Launcher for the first time. In this first test the crawler transporter moved the Mobile Launcher exactly 1,749 yards. At that point the test was stopped to allow evaluation of the move. In the days that followed technicians discovered pieces of steel and, more importantly, pieces of brass laying along the crawlerway. The discovery of these metal fragments led to the discovery of 14 tapered roller bearings that had been damaged on the crawler itself. This unexpected damage stopped all testing and left the crawler transporter and the Mobile Launcher parked on the crawlerway until further notice.

In short order the problem found its way into the news media. For the first time widespread doubts concerning the Apollo program began to sprout from Florida to Washington DC. Even the iconic Walter Cronkite spoke about it on his evening newscast as he told his audience that the crawler transporter and Mobile Launcher were sitting on wooden blocks under the Florida sun and no one was sure if they would ever move again. Of course the problems were solved, the crawler transporters did move again and the three Mobile Launcher’s served the United States space program for the next four and one half decades supporting Apollo, Skylab, ASTP and finally- as Fixed Service Structures- two of them tended to the Space Shuttle.


With the conception of the Constellation program NASA determined that a new generation of Mobile Launcher was needed. Construction of the new Mobile Launcher began with delivery of the first major components to KSC in February of 2009. This new 390 foot tall mobile launcher was intended to support the Aries I launch vehicle. On February 1, 2010, however, the Obama administration sent to Congress its FY2011 budget proposal which contained no funding for the Constellation program. With that the Ares launch vehicles and all related hardware were subsequently defunded. Yet the contract for the construction of the Mobile Launcher remained running and the launcher was basically completed by August 2010. Then there it sat, outside of the Vehicle Assembly Building (VAB) having no vehicle to support until the Congress could undo the Obama FY2011 NASA budget proposal.

Much like Cronkite back in 1965 many in the current news media attempted to make an example of the Constellation Mobile Launcher in order to call into question the future of NASA's human spaceflight program. One very popular commentator, who is a friend of mine, made a habit of asking guests what they thought about that "B.W.M. (Big Waste of Money) out there sitting by the VAB." This would seed some conversation concerning NASA's human spaceflight program and its future. Of course in today's modern news media spicy conversation often trumps reasonable examination. The fact is that supposed big waste of money actually could not become a big waste of money until it was actually scrapped. With that in mind the United States Congress was determined that in its rebuke of the Obama FY2011 NASA budget they would protect as much of the money invested in the Constellation program as possible. Those "sunk costs" included hardware such as the new Mobile Launcher.


In the summer of 2011 the information came out that NASA planned to use the Constellation Mobile Launcher as the mobile launcher for the new Space Launch System. A reasonable examination of the Mobile Launcher finds that although the structure outwardly looks like a complete launch tower it is in fact little more than a framework. None of the critical equipment that would make it vehicle specific has yet been installed. Thus, the new Mobile Launcher can easily be adapted to almost any launch vehicle. By way of this reasonable examination NASA has now breathed new life into the Mobile Launcher and successfully pulled some $238 million out of the Obama administration’s wastebasket. Now, along with the revival of the Orion spacecraft and other Constellation hardware, some $500 Billion in taxpayer sunk costs have been recovered.


Just after 10:00 am on the 16th day of November 2011 a crawler transporter lifted and moved a Mobile Launcher and its Launch Umbilical Tower for the first time since the early 1980s. At that familiar snail’s pace so often seen as the crawler transporters move spaceflight hardware, the new Mobile Launcher was taken out to Lunch Complex 39B. In testing reminiscent of the early days of Apollo the Mobile Launcher was being run through a series of compatibility tests and checks. After two weeks on the pad the Mobile Launcher was again lifted and slowly rolled back to its parking place near the VAB. Although overlooked by most in the media this simple test was a symbolic milestone in the process of undoing the Obama administration’s myopic cancellation of America's program to return to the moon. As I write this, I'm looking at my computer screen and watching by way of the Internet while a half a billion tax payer dollars are rescued from the Obama administration's waste-can as the new Mobile Launcher rolls smoothly along the crawlerway at the Kennedy Space Center.


What was once condemned as a "BWM" is now back on track to become a critical piece of hardware in America's effort to explore space beyond low Earth orbit.

REMEMBER BIG FITZ

November 10, 1975- ~7:12 pm

Teleported Into Leif Garrett land

Into Leif Garrett land


Could this be true, or am I just wishful thinking?

History is a fun thing, those of us who study it and research it know that the old saying that it repeats itself is absolutely true. In some cases it becomes a tragic yet predictable truth- yet in other cases it becomes a wonderful stroke of karma.

In the year 1977 the absolute hottest teen idol on the face of the earth was a bushy blonde haired singer named Leif Garrett. Blessed with a bookable voice and armed with the best backup musicians and producers that money could buy Leif Garrett turned into an adolescent money-making machine for those who cared for nothing more than the bottom line in the accountant’s ledgers.

Basically, the instant that Leif Garrett’s numbers again the slip he was abandoned and left to his own.

Our contemporary version of Leif Garrett is an idol constructed totally of bubblegum who goes by the name Justin Bieber. His name when spoken in a household that contains girls under the age of 11, I can be the equivalent of scratching a blackboard for any parent. In our household every time I see the bubblegum idol the only question I have for myself is "how long before he's going to be in rehab?" My only hope can be that his star falls before my little girls discover him.

As a parent, with two little girls, my hopes concerning the toppling of the bubblegum idol may be coming true sooner than I had actually expected. A paternity suit has been filed against the lollipop Pharaoh, and although this could likely be a simple publicity stunt or a false allegation I for one am pulling for Justin Bieber. You see a test will be taken to see it little Justin is a daddy or not and I'm hoping he's lucky enough to actually be a daddy. I say this not for the reason you may think. But rather because if it is true, scurrilous as it may be, the positive daddy test result will instantaneously teleport the bubblegum idol into Leif Garrett land… Forever. His sponsors, hanger-ons, managers, agents and recording labels will flee like Bamby from a forest fire.

With any luck it may be five or six years before the money leeches in the music industry can cook up a new bubblegum idol. At any rate my bet is for rehab for Justin somewhere around 2017.

I Have a Dragon On My Head

This past May when the weather turned fine and wonderful I went about my normal spring duty of cleaning the windows in our home. Since we live near the water our house consists of three floors that are almost all Windows. The second floor alone has a total of 19 Windows all of which are large, new and very energy efficient. Those qualifications alone make them a chore to clean. Upon finishing the last day's cleaning I discovered that my left shoulder was pretty sore. I figured that over the summer the soreness would fade-but instead it got worse. By early October I had decided that it was time to visit the doctor.

If it wasn't for the welds on the tank dome gores of the Saturn S-IVB stage and the need to inspect them for microcracks back in 1964, we probably would not have the amazing technology known as the MRI. Thus I found myself sprawled beneath one of these machines as it clacked away while hovering over my sore shoulder. A few days later surgeon took those films, slapped them on a light table, looked at me matter of factly and said, "This is very straightforward- you have torn rotator cuff. You'll need surgery ASAP." Then without batting an eye he added that my left arm would have to be immobilized after the surgery for no less than seven weeks and I would there after have to be in the sling for no less than four months. When he asked what I did for work I told him I was a writer. He said that was my good luck because the fingers on my left hand could still punch the keyboard.

After hearing testimonials from other folks who have had the same procedure I realized that there would be a lot of "discomfort" in that seven weeks and the odds were good that I sure as hell wouldn't want to be pecking at the keyboard with that left-hand. It was then that I saw an advertisement on the TV for some new voice recognition software called "Dragon." Although voice recognition software of 10 or 15 years ago had been a nightmare I had the feeling that it may have come a long way since then. Considering that price software was reasonable and that for me, as a writer, it was also tax-deductible I decided to buy it.

Now here I sit with my swollen fingers, my immobilized left arm, talking into a headset that came with the software that I learned how to use in just one evening and writing this blog. I have a Dragon on my head… Of course, that may just be a hallucination generated by the pain medication that they gave me after the surgery.

The biggest problem I found so far with Dragon is trying to put the damned headset on with just one hand.

While discussing the details of my surgery with the doctor who would perform the task we sat in his office and he carefully and professionally showed me the finer points of the procedures. As we began to talk about my rehabilitation, I mentioned that I had purchased some voice activation software to aid me in my writing while I was on the mend. The doctor stopped talking, his eyes widened, suddenly everything about my surgery had been put aside-"Did you get Dragon?" he asked excitedly. "Yeah." I replied.
Soon we were chatting about the voice activation software that he currently used in his own office and how the company that sold that software was no longer supporting it-he was going to have to select a new package. It turned into one of those scenes where I shortly became aware that my surgeon had done thousands of surgeries just like mine and so what really sparked his interest was the new software. Frankly, I found the situation highly reassuring-I was in the hands of a true expert. It was sort of like jumpseating on airliner and in the middle of the whole flight you happen to mention that your dad was a railroad engineer and thereby you suddenly discover that the guys flying the aircraft are train buffs. Suddenly the whole task of flying goes out the window while you sit there and chat about trains all the way to Baltimore.

Anyhow, for the next five months I'll be writing this blog by talking to my computer. The best part of that is-I really haven't bought anything that allows the computer to talk back… Yet.

Tales from the Blue Book; SHAVINGS

SHAVINGS

School wasn't something that was hard for a guy like Marvin. Elementary was no problem, Junior High wasn’t much of a challenge and High School just sort of went by. Art was his best subject, but he really didn't have an interest in anything else… and so he went on to College.

College wasn't hard… well at least not first three weeks of it. You see, his college was noted for its distinguished humanities department. When he arrived he knew that somehow he just would not fit in… and so he didn't.

It was Tuesday afternoon in HU-101, basic writing, and the homework was being handed back. He got his paper filled with red marks- so many, in fact, that it was hard to read what he had written there himself. Quickly he flipped the page over facedown on his desk- in the hope that the person sitting behind him hadn't seen it. English had never been his best subject- in fact his writing had frustrated English teachers as far back as he could recall. This was especially true of his spelling. “YOUR SPELLING IS ATROCIOUS” was the normal comment made by teachers who graded his spelling, yet never took any constructive actions to correct the problem. They simply passed him with a “D” for Don’t ever have to have you in my class again. One of his English teachers went so far as to have a stamp custom made that said “Marvin, YOUR SPELLING IS ATROCIOUS” so she would not have to write it out. Marvin was impressed that she’d actually invested in a stamp with his name on it. That is… until the day he graduated. As he walked proudly across the stage in his cap and gown, passing the administrators and faculty, his English teacher reached out and stamped him on the forehead… then she gave him the stamp and told him to keep it, because he was gonna need it.

Marvin had always found it rather amusing that a guy like him could so effectively annoy someone like English teachers with a college degree. And all they could do about it was to keep reading and get more aggravated. Besides, he figured anyone who is dull enough to major in English deserves to be frustrated. Marvin could always picture them sitting up late at night, grading papers with a red pen size of a baseball bat, shaking their heads and making a "clicsh clicsh" sound with their tongues and being frustrated beyond end when they got to his paper.

"We will go over the homework in a moment," Marvin’ English teacher, Mrs. Wilson said as she moved back toward her desk, "but first…" Her voice muffled as she bent down behind her desk.

Standing and spinning at the same time she produced a Homelite chain saw, and started it with a single quick pull.

WING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING!

She lurched toward Marvin rev’ing the saw.

"Holy shit!" he leaped backwards from his seat as if ejected.

ZANGO! With one swipe she took off the seat back and the heel his left sneaker.

The door was out of the question he reasoned as he crawled over his classmates and their desktops, the sounds of the saw at his butt.

WING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING!

Mrs. Wilson rev’ed the saw, its exhaust blowing papers onto the floor as she charged toward Marvin looking to draw and quarter him. He leaped through the open window.

ZANGO! Another swipe.

Out the window he went plummeting from the second floor and hitting the ground like a sack of sand. Marvin rolled a bit and then sprang to his feet as half of the window shade flopped at his left. Looking up he could see that up on the second floor Mrs. Wilson now had her skirt hopelessly caught in the saw.

"What the hell was that all about?" he mumbled brushing the grass from his chest.

For a second Marvin contemplated the half-severed heel of his sneaker, then decided it was best to get out of there. Flopping into the library he sat down attempted to repair his shoe, it was no use.

"Shit." he exclaimed.

A moment later he realized the word was echoing across the stillness of the library. He looked toward the librarian’s desk expecting a stern “shush.” Instead she produced a Homelite chainsaw, and started it with a single pull.

WING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING!

She leapt atop her desk kicking the books aside with her orthopedic shoes! She rev’ed the saw.

WING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING!

"Aw nuts!" Marvin bolted for the door only to be stopped by the chewing blade as the librarian headed him off at 629 of the Dewey decimal system. Marvin dodged as she took a swipe at him.

ZANGO! A bust of Ben Franklin decapitated.

ZANGO! Half a globe.

ZANGO! A Thesaurus because just a Thesau.

Marvin ducked, spun, kicked her in the rear. Stumbling forward the librarian slammed into a large book rack. The texts rained down on her as the book rack collapsed. The entire section of books turned into a giant pile as a grinding chewing noise came from under the books and ground slowly to an end.

Marvin made for the door.

"I must be losing my mind," he reasoned. Trotting across campus in a near panic his mind raced. There must be some safe place somewhere on the campus- and he had to find it. Two buildings later he found himself in the counselor's office. If he were actually losing his mind, this was the place to go.

There was no waiting, so he got to go right in. Marvin sat down next to the counselor's desk. A sweet mousy little lady, the guidance counselor came in with a delicate cup of tea and sat at her desk.

"Hello," she said sweetly, "what's going on today?"

"Sometimes I wash my socks and my underwear with a red shirt," he told her preparing to regurgitate all of his problems in this single visit "and they all come out frigging pink. I go through girlfriends like most people go through bulk packages of toilet paper. The last one told me that she was leaving me for everyone else. My roommate ate the last of my peanut butter and people are trying to kill me all over campus… am I going nuts, or what?"

She raised her eyebrows a bit and then softly said "Oh, I don't think so. You may need a little shock treatment, but other than that…" She shrugged.

Standing up Marvin decided to go out and give life one more try. Who knows maybe a few chainsaw attacks in one day was just a coincidence. Closing the counselor's door behind him he gave another thought to the flopping heel his sneaker.

WING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING!

The blade of a Homelite chainsaw burst through the counselor's door from the inside! Sticking in the door it stalled inches from the back of his neck.

"Oh… Heck." The counselor’s voice squeaked softly from behind the door.

That was it, the last straw. If Marvin was gonna stay alive he had to not only get off campus, he had to get out of town. Making the familiar hike down to the bus depot, he bought a one-way ticket home, hopped aboard and kept a close eye out for chain saws. 36 hours later he dragged into his parents front door and collapsed in one of their living room chairs.

"Mom, dad… It's been a nightmare." he whimpered to his parents with his face buried in his hands.

"Don't worry son," his folks said in unison, "you're home now, just relax, it's going to be okay…"

WING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING-NING!

If you like Wes' writing check out his books HERE

Sort of like camping

Where I live- surviving a hurricane, or a tropical storm, or even one of our classic Nor'easter is sort of like camping... only without the premise of "fun."

After the storm, you wake up at first light without the aid of an alarm, having "slept" in your cloths. There are no TVs, no computers and no lights- because the power failed hours earlier. Outdoors there is an unusual silence that is broken only by the low "putt-putt-putt" of some of the neighbor's generators. There is no traffic as fallen trees and downed wires prevent cars and trucks from going anywhere.

Our community is on the tip of a point of land that juts into Chesapeake Bay with one road in and out. Thus all around us, the water that had previously been whipped into crashing waves is now calm and glass-like. The roar of the enraged water is gone and seemingly all at once the neighbors step from their homes to do "the walk." The streets are peppered with leaf greenery ripped from the trees and the normal background sound of insects, birds and other critters are silenced because they are all still sheltered from the storm. Even the screeching seagulls have flown far inland and sheltered in a dumpster or landfill somewhere. It is one of the few times that all of the neighbors come out, all at the same time, with nothing better to do other than to walk around and talk to one another. After all, there is nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. Everyone tours the damage asking the same basic questions; "How'd ya' do?" "Did ya' come through okay?"

Eventually life settles into getting along without the power company being involved. Cooking done on outdoor grills, food preserved by the ton of ice you bought or froze yourself while getting ready for the storm. Toilets flushed with buckets of water either stored in your bathtub, or scooped from the bay, or bailed from the kid's swimming pool. Everyone helps everyone just because someone may need help. Soon kids actually play outside. Folks relax on their decks or in their yards simply doing nothing because nothing can be done. Families join one another cooking, eating and sharing food in the refrigerator because it won't last long anyhow. Often the three day cooler works better that any other appliance. As darkness falls, assorted forms of off-the-grid illumination are used and soon everyone goes to sleep early, because there is no reason to stay up late.


It's just like camping- only instead of picking up your home and taking it back to civilization when you are done, you simply stay in your house and wait for civilization to come back to you.

My favorite holiday

Anyone in my family will tell you that my 2nd favorite holiday is Thanksgiving- I love the food, in fact I could eat a turkey dinner every week. My 1st favorite holiday, however, is the Memorial Day weekend. Sure, we take that time to honor our veterans and service members and those who gave their lives for our liberty. I give plenty of thought to that every year. However, to me, this weekend means some other things as well. From deep in my childhood, every Memorial Day, my dad would BBQ chicken on the grill while the Indy 500 blasted out over the radio (yes- in those days you could not get the race live on TV, but there were 3 local AM radio stations that carried it). Then- when the chicken was eaten and the race was won, there were the old war movies on TV. As the weekend expired, summer began. Those reasons alone make up my favorite holiday.

Over the years, in my own household, I have tried to keep the tradition going. Of course now the Indy 500 is a 4 and one half hour live TV event- not to mention the only time all year that I actually tune in ABC (or any of the three once-great networks). I have two kids of my own- who could care less about the race, but at least one of them does like the chicken. And considering daddy duty I only get to watch bits and pieces of the old war movies, my favorite of which is "Midway."

Of course I watch "Midway" whenever I can- not because it is a classic, but because it has so many cool aircraft in it. Who cares if some of the clips are out of context, or that you have a guy taking off in a Wildcat and coming back to crash in a Hellcat. Who cares that a lot of the Jap Zeros are actually T6s with a rising sun painted on the side- they're radial engine aircraft for crying out loud! I'll sit and watch "Midway" over and over again as if was a first-run feature, just for the airplanes. And if my wife asks me why I'm watching it "again?" I'll reply that it's (in the words of double ace Carl Brown, whose Aviation History class I attended in my freshman year at Embry-Riddle) "I love to watch the planes fly and the Japs die." Which does not go over well with my wife... because she's Japanese.

One afternoon while sittin' and watching "Midway"... again... my wife and my sister-in-law (who is equally Japanese) were getting ready for us to all take a trip to the mall. My wife shouted "Let's go!" My sister-in-law leaned over the couch and said, "Turn the TV off- let's get going." Without looking over at her I replied that I could not turn off "Midway" because, "I wanna see who wins." She said, "We won." I gave a hurumph and said "If that was true, then at this very moment I'd be surrounded by..." I looked at over toward two unimpressed oriental ladies standing in our living room which was decorated with Japanese nick-knacks and screamed "JAPS!!!!" They took my remote away and dragged me to the mall. I guess she was right- they won.

While at Embry-Riddle as a student, the showing of "Midway" was a huge attraction. This was mostly because the majority of us students spent most of our time sitting in our rooms building models of WWII aircraft. Sure- we were airplane nuts, but the most important aspect to our free time activity was that at the time there were 5,000 students on campus and less than 2 dozen were females; there wasn't much else to do. When they showed "Midway" in the University Center in 1978 it was standing room only. Although the movie had come out in 1976 it was a box office flop- there was still a lot of anti-war mind-set running around the nation. So, just a year or so later the film could be had for on-campus showing. What self respecting university would have the nerve to show a "War Movie" on campus? Embry-Riddle would- hell, what other university would have a double ace teaching Aviation History! Poor Carl Brown often had to field questions about TV's latest twist on WWII... "Baa Baa Blacksheep." I recall one student asking him how real it was- Brown replied "Have ya' ever seen Hogan's Heros? It's about that real." Of course, later, when "Midway" finally came to network TV, we combined it with model building and had the best of both worlds. Today, although Embry-Riddle has far more girls on campus, my bet is that the dorm room have the same scores of WWII airplane models.

So it was that this Memorial Day weekend my wife took the kids to have a "girl's adventure" at a friend's house and they left daddy alone at home... to cook chicken, watch the Indy 500 and all sorts of old war movies in peace. Although I did spend some time gazing out the window toward the stars and stripes waving out on my flag pole and respectfully considering all of those who served under those colors, I also caught the "Midway" marathon on TV. The United States won- every time.

Now... summer has started.