Deferring to My Father

"The shirt, labeled on Under Armour's website as "Band of Ballers," bears a strong similarity to the U.S. Marine Corp War Memorial at Arlington National Cemetery. The statue, also known as the Iwo Jima Memorial, features a group of soldiers planting a flag during the Battle of Iwo Jima (1945), which resulted in 26,000 American casualties." Underarmour Stops Selling Shirt Bearing Similarity to Statue,  Darren Rovell, ESPN Business reporter, May 16, 2015

What the...?

I am agnostic about this t-shirt. I did not serve as a Marine. All of my military experience was in the US Naval Reserve, mostly locked in a safe reading stuff and practicing creating classified briefings out of it. So, if an honest-to-God Marine is offended by this shirt, I will never tell them they are wrong. I'm not going to go all Rage Boy about it, either.

Here is my issue, on this glorious Armed Forces Day. The main objection this writer can imagine is the t-shirt's similarity to a statue? Does he have any fucking idea what that statue represents? (Yes, Graham, Papa wrote f-word).

Years ago my father spoke about his first day on Iwo Jima, now 70 years in the past. They could not get over a seawall because the Japanese soldiers would shoot them. So they stayed on the beach for most of the day. An enemy shell, fired from Mt. Surbachi, would land among them. "A couple of kids would get killed," Dad said. That went on for hours, until they got off the beach after dark.

The flag raised on the summit several days later meant that the rain of terror was close to an end, that the enemy inside the hollowed mountain were being silenced. It was one of the iconic moments in the history of a fighting force organized in Tun Tavern in 1776.

The statue represents a moment in American history where a group of Marines planted a flag to let their brothers know they had fought their way to high ground. It represents sacrifice in the face of a determined, bitter enemy. It represents Marines who have served proudly in all of the wars America has fought to preserve our freedom.

I expect that, were my father still alive, he would remind people that it was only a t-shirt. They should remember the "kids" who died this week in a helicopter crash in Nepal, a long way from home.

But, who am I?

Travel Tip #1

"When you travel, remember that a foreign country is not designed to make you comfortable. It is designed to make its own people comfortable."

Clifton Fadiman

People watching.

The scene: Cozumel International Airport (CZM), Cozumel, Quintana Roo, Mexico. Boarding gate 6. A hundred or so passengers have been cooling their heels for several hours awaiting a late-arriving American Airlines 737-800. Severe weather in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area (the flight's origination) has snarled air traffic. Although Cozumel airport is comfortable, with a number of worthy distractions ("A 750 ml bottle of Bombay Sapphire is how much?!") once one leaves the comfy confines of an all-inclusive resort, nothing but home is acceptable. Edgy is one way to describe the throng, munching on airport snack foods and jealously eying the passengers boarding a US Air flight to Charlotte. Cranky is another.

A sense of foreboding overtakes us. At the US Air gate are three security people, having roped off a table, doing pre-boarding spot checks. Super. Nothing like having someone root through carry-on while others cluck sympathetically, lugging their steamer trunk-sized uprights bound for limited overhead compartments - the victim's rightful space, no doubt.

By and by our chariot arrives and it is our turn to head home...and run the gauntlet. But, fear not. We are saved by "that guy."

Actually, it was a woman. Selected for personal service by security, she puts up a fuss. They want to swab her hands (to ensure no bomb building, I guess) but she freaks. "What are you doing?" she demands to know. She refuses to cooperate, wants to know what is on the swabs...

A friend told me of his arrival in Iraq. He was following a long line of people shuffling toward a check point. Apparently concerned about allowing illness into the country, everyone was having their temperature taken. Forehead sweep? Disposable plastic tip? No. Glass thermometer, swished in alcohol between examinations. He was appropriately taken aback. He had a right to complain. (He declined their invitation, saying he felt fine, thank you). But, I digress. Back to Cozumel.

Now, it's a scene. She demands to know why she has been singled out, what they are doing to her hands and can she speak to a supervisor? This presents two very interesting observations. 

First, with her to entertain them, the security people are not going to care about an aging traveler and his wife taking leave of beautiful Cozumel and boarding the silver bird bound for home. 

Second... Mexico is a sovereign country. They try to make getting in and out as easy as possible, but it is their country. They have rules and procedures that make sense to them. If they don't make sense to you, spend your vacation somewhere else. Anyway, the soldier looking on certainly didn't seem inclined to summon his supervisor.

Not that she was in any real danger of being spirited off somewhere. But why take the chance? Years ago we were arriving at Liberia airport, Costa Rico, to attend a wedding. A woman was standing next to a table, her belongings strewn about. She was screaming at a woman in uniform. Others in similar uniforms were elbowing each other out of the way for a chance to scream back. We stood dutifully in line, but the first uniformed woman (apparently having lost her turn) smiled at us and waved us through.

Travel tip #1? When you are in line ahead of me, in a foreign country, and the locals involve you in one of their infil or exfil ops? Please, make a fuss. I'm on your side.

Lucille

"The hall burst into flames, and the building was evacuated. Once outside, King realized that he had left his guitar inside so he went back into the burning building to retrieve his beloved $30 Gibson guitar. Two men died in the fire, and King learned the next day that they had been fighting over a woman named Lucille. King subsequently named that first guitar Lucille, as well as every guitar he has owned since, as a reminder never again to do something as stupid as run into a burning building or fight over women." From Lucille (guitar), Wiki, 2015.

Noting the passing of BB King at age 89.



Most of the guitarists I've listened to over the years, and certainly all of the blues guitarists, mention BB King as a major influence. There are lists of awards the man won, and honors he'd been given elsewhere. All I know is that the blues, the guitar and playing for people so consumed him, the love of music so animated his life, that he was still performing at age 89.

We should all be so lucky.

Mother of All Rides

I have added a blog from Daniel Wolf, who is bicycling from Virginia to Oregon this summer.

Next year is the 40th anniversary of  the TransAmerica Trail, a bike route spanning nearly 4200 miles coast to coast. About 4000 people rode the trail during the Bicentennial summer - the organization at that time (now Adventure Cycling) was called Bikecentennial. Somewhere close to 2000 riders, men and women of all ages, completed the entire ride. I was one of them, beginning in Reedsport, OR on a blustery June day in 1976 and riding into Yorktown, VA mid-August.

Mr. Wolf has embarked on what is an intensely personal tour of the USA. Please follow his blog and wish him well.

Our Backs Were Covered

"Friends, I will remember you, think of you, pray for you.
And when another day is through, I'll still be friends with you." Friends With You, The Essential John Denver (Danoff and Nivert), (2004).

Through all of the tumult 2015 has brought, we have been surrounded by friends. Friends who have laughed with us, cried with us and taken care of us when we struggled to take care of ourselves. To each and every - thank you.

What People Really Think

Please welcome my friend AJ Zayatz to Bikecopblog. This is Law Enforcement Week, and his words explain better what we experience than any I could conjure. People believe in us. 

You know this has been a crazy week in this country, especially Baltimore, disbelief comes to mind. I however still believe most people believe in police and respect them. I for one saw this during my week. First an older couple who wouldn't say no to buying me coffee and they said thank you for your service. Since where I work I cannot accept free items I put money in the tip jar to cover it but in a way this couple didn't see. Then today out of nowhere with my head always on a swivel a man stops next to me asking how's my day, I say just kicking it off. He says I appreciate your work, be safe.

So hopefully at some point we can get the masses to speak up and show that having a job never knowing if it's your last shift and your family will never see you again overcomes this mayhem that is going on.

Be safe and try to keep positive because I who am usually pessimistic actually am optimistic. Society really does care. We just need to stay tough and hopefully at some point things change. Only one can hope.

Window Well and Cozumel

Mourning the loss of last feline triplet Rowena.

There was no real reason to check our email. We were (as this is written are) in Cozumel, on the vacation from adulthood. You know, the time in life when problems are challenges to be overcome, faced head on... Accepted as part of being a grown up.

We were running away from home to a beach, a bar and a book. Just one check in and we could go back to having sand between our toes. But, being a grown up means reading the whole email.

Rowena had died. Friends, family members had rallied, made the best decision and found that she'd gone somewhere comfortable and joined her litter mates. With this litter, no Vet care has ever made a bit of difference when the time came.

She was the smallest of the three, and the cockiest. Freidman and Winchester would clumsily try to snare a moth. Rowie would watch them flail, fail and stare dumbly at the insect. She would sniff, shoulder past them, snatch the poor thing from mid air and pop it in her mouth. Munching loudly, she'd saunter away.

After the other two left we got a playmate for her. She was game (up to a point) but eventually hissed her displeasure and went looking for Pat's lap. Being an old cat was hard work.

Her appetite fell off a cliff. With the three refugees from our Northglenn window well that always said the end was painfully close.

We say farewell to a tiny cat with a big heart. Thank you for your company. We miss you already.