Author: maxnhall

Zen Zone

Zen Zone

Where is your Zen Zone? That is, what do you do, or what place do you go to that helps you relax, find peace and become accepting of what “is” in your life? Where do you go to bring balance to your life? I’m lucky, in that I have a place that works for me in today’s crazy world.

When I talk about a Zen Zone, I don’t really mean the full-on Buddhist Zen practice with meditation, aiming at enlightenment. I’m talking about finding a place of peace, contentment and balance in my life. A place that brings back some sanity to this mad world we live in these days.

How Do You Find a Place of Peace, Contentment and Balance?

If you go to the web and look up Zen, or Zen Zone, you find a number of descriptions, some of them not very Zen like. Many look distinctly as if they are coming from someone trying to make a buck, which isn’t particularly Zen. I did however, find a couple of definitions/comments that spoke to what I’m talking about:

  • Put simply, Zen is an orientation toward life that generates a sense of peace, equanimity, acceptance, and contentment. To be Zen is to be committed to maintaining clarity and remaining grounded in the present moment, no matter how challenging it is to do so.
  • “A space designed to be peaceful and calming. No matter what is happening outside this area, it allows me to have a small, predictable place in the world that was created specifically to comfort me.”
  • Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got. Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot. Wouldn’t you like to get away? (OK, kidding on this one – these are the opening lines of the old TV show Cheers, but doesn’t it sound sort of Zen like? 😉 … )

Over the years, I’ve done meditation off and on. When I was working full time, I often took a short ten-minute break in the middle of the day to meditate and re-center myself. I think it helped some, and certainly provided some grounding and calming. I wouldn’t say it was anything to do with Zen, or a Zen Zone, just taking a few minutes to find some peace and balance.

And now? Where’s my Zen Zone? Where do I relax, find peace and “meditate”? It’s an easy answer for me – on my daily walks in the woods. With my knee issues, I don’t run anymore, but I love to walk. Most afternoons you can find me, along with our dog Carmen, in the nearby woods on a three or four mile escape. Sometimes I remain attentive to nature and my surroundings, but other times, the “Zen times”, I lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. Suddenly, I come out of it a quarter mile from home. Hello!? Where am I? Oh yea, I remember now. Be thou at peace.

It’s a wonderful trick when it happens, although it doesn’t happen all of the time. And when it doesn’t happen, it’s still time well spent – a wonderful hike and enjoying what nature has to offer: the trees, animals, plants and views; wildflowers and ferns; a small stream or two; and of course, watching Carmen enjoy the walk as much as I do.

A Walk in the Woods Works for Me.

In either case, I always feel better after my walk. My mind is clearer and less stressed. Maybe I’ve solved a problem or two, or at least gained some perspective. Running and then later, walking, have always worked as exercise for me – burning off calories and trying to stay in reasonable shape. But the mental benefits aren’t to be undersold. As I become older, I am much more appreciative of those mental aspects.

What about you? Have you found such a zone? Perhaps running or walking? Working in the garden? Maybe hunting or fishing? Quilting? Yoga? Doing active meditation? What works for you? Where do you lose yourself and gain some balance in your life?

Making our way in the world today DOES take everything we’ve got. Politics, online garbage, traffic, aggressive people, health concerns, and other personal issues all raise our stress levels. Finding a Zen Zone can help make a difference, even if only for a few minutes each day. Taking a break from all our worries and reclaiming some balance and peace in our lives – I can live with that. Maybe the Cheers theme song was on to something after all.

“If you are depressed, you are living in the past. If you are anxious, you are living in the future. And, if you are at peace, you are living in the present.” ~ Lao Tzu

Addendum:

  • Zen is a school of Buddhism which emphasizes the practice of meditation as the key ingredient to awakening one’s inner nature, compassion and wisdom. The practice of meditation, as a means of attaining enlightenment

The Importance of Being Lucky

The Importance of Being Lucky

Cathy was thrown from her horse two months ago. While she has some lingering pain, overall, she was pretty lucky. It reminded me of the story my friend Bob Bishop told of being thrown by a horse, but unfortunately not clear, as the horse galloped away. He too was lucky as you’ll soon find out.

This is Bob’s story and it’s a good read. All I’ve added is a bit of editing.

In 1952 Crested Butte, Colorado was a bucolic place in the summer, with blue skies, white clouds and mountains surrounding the area. At the time, Crested Butte was a little town of maybe fifteen frame houses, a general store, and a post office/sheriff’s office. All were two stories high, and each had a door on the second floor. Crested Butte typically received twelve to fifteen feet of snow in the winter, and with drifts, that door became the only way people could exit their house. They would chop stairs in the snow and ice down to the street. As spring approached and the likelihood of more snow lessened, they tunneled through the snow to the front door and used that as access as the snow started to melt.

Needless to say, it was not the multimillion-dollar ski area it is today.

My father and mother were asked by our friends, the Dorsetts, if mom could help them out at the boy’s camp they had founded a few years earlier. This was mid-May, two weeks before the camp was to open for the summer, and the camp cook had just quit. The Dorsetts knew that mother was schooled as a dietician, and also knew she was a good cook. Coincidently, father had just accepted a new job with Aetna Life Insurance Company, which required him to attend a four-week school in Hartford, Connecticut. Mother and father agreed they could help the Dorsetts out and a little extra money would be welcome. My brother and I could go to the camp for free, and they waived the requirement that a camper must be at least twelve years old, for nine-year-old me.

Bob, About the Time of the Incident

The camp was three miles down a dirt road from the town of Crested Butte, at the base of Mt. Crested Butte, which rose almost three thousand feet straight up from the meadow. We kids slept in Conestoga wagons – not replicas, but real ones left there by those who rode in them to seek their fortunes in the west decades earlier. Inside the canvas covered wagons were four sets of bunk beds, two on each side. Light came from three kerosene lanterns hanging in the middle. There were six wagons with eight boys to a wagon, for a total of forty-eight campers. The only electricity in the camp was in the kitchen, the residence “hall” for the staff and counselors, and the dining hall.

One of the Conestoga Wagons They Were Using.

It was pretty idyllic, for a young lad of nine. Other than the mandatory arts and crafts sessions, we were free to go fishing, hiking, or horseback riding, or to just play. I generally chose horseback riding, and off we rode to the meadows beyond the camp for romping around, and frequently to play flag football on horseback.

Great fun, until …

One fateful day, my horse saw something. A snake? A gopher hole? I’ll never know. She reared up – I was just moseying along, reins held loosely, and then I was airborne. Spooked by whatever she had seen, the horse took off at a gallop. I was thrown off, but unfortunately, not completely. My left foot caught in the stirrup, and I was just tall enough that my head almost reached the ground. I remember fervently hoping I didn’t hit a rock with my head, although it was clearly beyond my control. My journey across the meadow continued with me hanging upside down, bouncing off the ground in synch with the horse’s gallop. The direction I faced changed with each bounce – seeing the meadow stretching endlessly behind at one moment, and next peering at the blue sky from under the horse’s belly. Although I have no exact recollection, I was later told the whole journey lasted less than a couple of minutes before my horse was pulled to a stop by one of the counselors.

The next thing I remembered was lying in my bed in our Conestoga wagon, just staring up at the canvas top. I could talk and move my arms, but I had no sensation below my waist. In time, the “local” doctor (from Gunnison, 30 miles away, the last 15 on a dirt road) came in to evaluate my condition. He reminded me of a shorter, thinner Santa Claus, with white hair and a beard. After an eternity of poking, prodding and sticking pins into me everywhere, he drew a deep breath, turned to my mother and said, “He’s paralyzed, and it’s either temporary or permanent. Either way, the only thing you can do is make him comfortable.” He said if I could ever wiggle my toes, the paralysis was probably temporary, a traumatic inflammation of the spinal cord, and I would likely become fully functional. If not, well …

What’s a nine-year-old to think? Honestly, not much. I had no idea what “permanently paralyzed” meant. It never occurred to me I wouldn’t be able to walk, bike, play baseball, or go horseback riding again. My brother and some of my wagon-mates kept me supplied with comic books, Archie and Jughead, which helped while away the time. I was not in pain, but ached all over. I slept a lot.

As time passed, I kept looking down at my toes. I concentrated as hard as I could on wiggling them, but nothing happened. Until, on the third day, I stared at my toes, willing them to move. And then I swear, my right big toe did. I swear. I saw it move just a little. Didn’t it? I thought it did. I concentrated even harder, and, sure enough, I could actually see it move. Not much, but it actually moved. Yippee!!!

A couple of hours later, Mom came in with my lunch, and I said, “Mom?! Watch this!” And I wiggled my right big toe. She looked at me and said, “What, Bobby? What do you want me to watch?” I yelled, “Mom! LOOK! Look at my right foot!” She turned to look down at my feet, I wiggled my toe, and her eyes glistened as she turned back and looked at me. She broke into a huge smile, leaned down, and gave me a BIG hug.

In a couple more days, I could wiggle all of my toes. The doctor came back to check on me a week after the accident. I recognized him as he pulled the canvas flap aside and climbed into the wagon. I said, “Hi. Watch this.” He started smiling as I performed my new trick (wiggling my toes), and said, “You sure are one lucky little boy.” Pause. “I think you’re going to be just fine.” Then he left.

A couple more days passed, and I was up and walking, although I needed help to keep my balance. Another week, and I was fine, walking and running around – just as if it never happened.

Later in life, I learned there is real value in being as good as you can be, but it is really good if you’re also very lucky.

Bob in 1952, and Again in 2020.

Postscript: I started having back problems in 2017. It began with tingling in both quadriceps, but two months later, I had a pinched nerve in my neck. The MRI showed “severe” narrowing of where the nerves go from the spinal cord out to my left at L2-3 and to my right at L3-4 (aka “spinal stenosis”). Oh, also some scoliosis, having lost 4” of height in the last twenty years. I mentioned the horse escapade to my orthopedist and asked whether it might have some bearing on the condition of my back. He looked at me over the top of his horned-rim glasses and said, “It can’t a-helped” and smiled. And so did I.

Addendum:

I should mention Bob later attended the Naval Academy at Annapolis, and served for several years in the Navy as a submariner. He’s a great storyteller and I’ve done a couple of previous blogs with him about his time in the Navy. If you would like to read them, you can do so here:

  • Crazy Ivan anyone? … In 1970, our sub, the USS Finback, was helping with Anti-Submarine Warfare training for NATO aircraft. An observer on the sub said “I think I understand your plan. You alternate going to port or starboard as soon as you submerge.” I responded, “Well, not actually”, and we walked over to […]. Continue at: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2022/04/13/submarine-games
  • The movie, “The Hunt for Red October” is child’s play, compared to what these submariners did on a daily basis … “The Comms Officer ran in and handed the CO the decoded message. The CO read the message, took the lanyard from his neck, unlocked the firing key cabinet, and reached in for the firing key. We were about to” […] Continue at: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2021/06/23/we-knew-we-were-at-war/

Ding Dong, Snyder’s Gone

Ding Dong, Snyder’s Gone
Ding dong, Snyder’s gone. 
Sing it low, shout it loud!
Ding dong, Dan is gone. 
Don’t be slow, join the crowd!

It’s so sad one man and his hubris could single-handedly destroy an organization. Carbuncle is the descriptive word that comes to my mind.

In full disclosure, I’m a Green Bay Packers fan, but that doesn’t matter. Dan Snyder was such a carbuncle on the Commanders, the NFL and the DC region, it just feels good that he is finally gone. He may not be the most despised sports team owner ever, but he’s up there. He was so bad on so many levels.

  • FOOTBALL: – his lack of football knowledge – his inability to let the GM and coaches do their jobs – his constant interfering – his constant hiring and firing of coaches – his hiring of past their prime players – his lack of accepting responsibility – his constant need to blame someone else – his hiring of yes-men
  • THE FANS: – his poor treatment of the fans – his suing of season ticket holders – his selling of peanuts that he acquired after they passed their “sell by” date – his banning of signs at the stadium (because many were about him) – his lying about the season ticket wait-list
  • WOMEN: – his misogyny while running the team – his condoning taking nude pictures and videos of cheerleaders without their consent – his sexual harassment and probable sexual misconduct and assaults
  • CORPORATE: his constant lying and misdirection – his reading of over 400,000 internal emails, looking for others to blame – his toxic work environment – his statement about changing the name of the team: “We’ll never change the name. It’s that simple. NEVER. You can use caps.” – he was sued by three limited partners for corporate malfeasance – his interference with the NFL investigation of the Commanders – his hiding of ticket revenue from the NFL and defrauded season-ticket holders of their refundable deposits – The Washington, D.C. Attorney General sued the Commanders twice

1999-2023. Twenty four years was more than enough of the Snyder experience. EVERYONE is ready to move on.

You get the idea. Goodbye and good riddance Dan.

Ding dong, Snyder’s gone. 
Sing it low, shout it loud!
Ding dong, Dan is gone. 
Don’t be slow, join the crowd!

A “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned

A “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned

The Corps Has… Every West Pointer knows the phrase. When we were Cadets, we laughed at it, and thought it untrue. As Old Grads, many of us use it, and believe it is true. “The Corps Has”, short for “The Corps has gone to hell” is a grad’s way of saying “Things aren’t as tough now, as when I was a cadet.”

The academy was founded in 1802 and is the oldest of the United States’ five service academies. The phrase “The Corps Has” has no doubt been around since 1803. Every class, once they graduate, seems to think those after it have it easier.

A friend from the class of ‘64 reminds me regularly (half in jest, but only half) that as Plebes, they stayed at the Academy their whole first year, and couldn’t go home for Christmas break like we did.

Friends from my Class of ‘78 regularly bemoan the fact that current cadets no longer have meal formations three times a day like we did.

I think you get the drift. And that doesn’t even get into how the whole Plebe System has changed over the years. The Corps has gone to hell. Although for as long as it’s been going to hell, you’d think we’d logged enough miles to get to hell and back by now. ;-).

With the Passage of Time, Some of Our Memories Get a Little Hazy.

Recently, on June 26th, ‘23, the class of 2027 had their first day at West Point, more commonly known as “R” Day (Reception Day). That evening, I posted a picture of a whiskey Old Fashioned I was drinking on our class Facebook page and offered a toast to the class of ‘27. They will graduate 49 years after we did. I don’t care how much easier it may have become; one thing I know for sure is you never forget your first day at West Point. It may become blurry, but you won’t forget it. Ever.

In the comments to the post, one of my classmates, Joe Mooney, brilliantly suggested having a “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned, by using WhistlePig whiskey in it. Our Classmate, Dave Pickerel, was one of the founders and the Master Distiller at WhistlePig Distillery. I started thinking about it. How would I make/what would go into a “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned?

After some additional thought and a few practice rounds, here’s my version, with explanation, of a “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned*.

Simple Ingredients for a Good Drink

Ingredients

  • 1 Sugar cube
  • 2-3 Dashes of Smoked Cherry Bitters
  • 1 Teaspoon warm water
  • 2 ounces WhistlePig PiggyBack Rye Whiskey
  • Large ice cube or ball of ice
  • Small piece of Orange peel
  • And, you will need matches or a lighter

Instructions

1. Add a sugar cube to a rocks glass. These days, most recipes for an Old Fashioned start with a teaspoon of simple syrup. To hell with that. Since we are Old Corps, we are going to start the way the original Old Fashioned started – with a sugar cube.

2. Shake 2 or 3 dashes of the Smoked Cherry Bitters** onto the sugar cube. Why Smoked Cherry instead of the Angostura Bitters called for in the original Old Fashioned? The Smoked Cherry Bitters add just a bit of haze to the drink. Sort of like the haziness of our memories of West Point. (If you can’t find Smoked Cherry bitters, look for another smoked bitters, or use regular Angostura.)

3. Add the Teaspoon of warm water to the glass. Muddle the sugar cube until it dissolves in the bitters and water (TA-DA! No simple syrup needed. 😉 )

4. Add the Rye and stir. Why WhistlePig PiggyBack Rye? First, as I previously mentioned, our deceased Classmate, Dave Pickerel, after a stint as the master distiller at Makers Mark, was one of the founders and the master distiller at WhistlePig. Every bottle of PiggyBack actually has his birth and death years on the neck of the bottle (1956-2018). Also, it’s Rye, not bourbon. Rye is spicier than bourbon, which is generally sweeter. While there were some sweet times at West Point, I’d have to say overall the experience was more on the complex and spicy side. It certainly wasn’t for everyone.

5. Add the ice. Stir until chilled.

6. Use a lighter or a match to singe the orange peel a bit (note, I said singe, not burn). Express the orange peel over the glass and then drop it in. Stir a few more times. Why singe the orange peel? It adds a little smokiness to the peel when you express it. It doesn’t change the drink…much. But somewhere in the background it adds a touch of something you can’t quite place, but think you remember. Not unlike that first summer at Beast Barracks, the memory of which seems clear and hazy at the same time.

7. Raise your glass in remembrance of our fallen classmates and toast the Corps of Cadets.

Ah, Yes. A Very Good “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned.

The Corps Has? No, not really. Every year young men and women report to West Point at the start of summer. I suspect those four years always have been and always will be a challenge. The demands and tests evolve, but are always there. Thank God there are still those today who answer the call.

Addendum:

  • * You might ask why I selected an Old Fashioned as the starting point/base for the drink. Well, the Old Fashioned is the granddaddy of all cocktails and as with many cocktails, the history is a little muddled. Cocktails were first mentioned around 1805 and generally consisted of some combination of alcohol, bitters, sugar and water. At the time, the alcohol was probably whiskey, gin, brandy or rum. As the 19th century was coming to an end, people started adding other things to their cocktails – fruit, fruit juice, soda water, or tonic as examples. This increased the number of people drinking cocktails, but irritated some of the people who had been drinking them for for a while. They wanted the “old fashioned cocktails”, not the new fangled stuff. Sometime around 1890, the Whiskey Old Fashioned became the first named cocktail. It may or may not have been invented by Colonel James E. Pepper at the The Pendennis Club in Louisville, KY, before he allegedly brought the cocktail to the Waldorf-Astoria hotel bar in New York City. Since West Point is the senior service academy, it seemed right to use the oldest known cocktail as the base for the drink.
  • ** You can probably find smoked or spiced cherry (or smoked orange) bitters online, or at your local liquor/wine store. If you want a treat, try ordering them online from Artemisia, a local farm here in Virginia. In addition to growing vegetables, they make several unique bitters and herbal wines (similar to vermouth, but better). They are currently sold out, but should have them again in about a week. Their link is: https://www.artemisia.farm/ For those who live in Northern Virginia, you can also find them at The Whole Ox, in Marshall, Va.
  • Thanks to classmate Joe Mooney for coming up with the idea for a “The Corps Has” Old Fashioned with WhistlePig. It was a great idea.
  • Thanks to classmates Joe Mooney and Bill Moeller for reviewing this blog and suggesting some ideas.
  • Our West Point Class of ‘78 45th class reunion is coming up this fall. Here’s the story of us selecting two barrels of WhistlePig PiggyBack Whiskey for sale at the reunion (all bottles already sold out) – – – We were on a mission to the WhistlePig Distillery in Vermont. Twelve classmates gathered to taste whiskey from five barrels. We would select two for the West Point Proud and Great, Class of ‘78 45th reunion this coming fall. We didn’t […] Continue here: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2023/05/09/__trashed-2/
  • There are many Old Fashioned recipes, but the basic one uses: 2 oz Bourbon or rye, a tsp of simple syrup, a couple dashes of Angostura bitters and a slice of orange peel.

Losing the Landline

Losing the Landline

The Washington Post headline screamed out “Barely a quarter of Americans still have landlines. Who are they?” I wanted to shout back, “ME FOR ONE!” Still, I wasn’t really surprised at the numbers. So why haven’t Cath and I taken the plunge? Well, there are one or two downsides to living in the country, which I will get to in a bit.

The article was actually quite interesting. It was based on analysis from the National Center for Health Statistics (NCHS) and their National Health Interview Survey (NHIS). The survey takes place on an annual reoccurring basis and covers a wide range of topics, including since 2003, cell phone usage. The change overall is pretty dramatic, as you can see from the chart.

Amazing Changes Since 2003.

Not surprisingly, more older people still maintained their landlines. There were however, a couple of other interesting statistics:

  • Homeowners are more likely than renters to have home phones.
  • Hispanics are less likely to have landlines than blacks or whites.
  • There are minimal differences between men and women on who has pulled the plug on landline service.
  • There are minimal difference based on education level on who has pulled the plug on landline service.
  • 1% of Americans have no phones at all (cell or landline)
Some Interesting Statistics.

Researchers also found that phone usage is correlated with health and health issues, often in surprising ways. From a WaPo interview with Mr Blumberg, the head of NCHS, people who abandon landlines and rely only on wireless — “are generally more likely to engage in risky behaviors. They’re more likely to binge drink, more likely to smoke and more likely to go without health insurance.” That’s true even when researchers control for age, sex, race, ethnicity and income. Yep, you read correctly. That friend of yours who smokes cigarettes and binge drinks is also more likely to have only a cell phone.

So why do Cathy and I currently still have our landline? It’s simple really. We live in the country and at our home, cell service has occasionally been sketchy in the past. There are many cell towers across the county. Unfortunately, we have lived in a bit of a semi-dead zone. A few years ago, I put in an amplifier to strengthen the signal which helps, but provides no absolute guarantees. We’ve wanted to make sure that if we have to make an emergency call, we could do so.

I should also mention that about half the time when someone calls one of our cell phones, they don’t ring. Of course some would consider that a blessing. 😉

Maybe it’s time to cut our landline service. With much better internet service now, we also do Wifi calling, which helps from a reliability perspective. Currently, we pay $103.25/month for our landline, so over the course of a year, that’s a chunk of change ($1239 to be exact).

It’s interesting. Sometimes catalysts come from the strangest sources. As I’m typing this, Cathy and I have spoken and decided it’s probably time to give the landline the Heave-Ho. We may wait a month or so to allow some transition time for a few key notifications, but that’ll be it. We may be a bit late to the party, but we’re there now. When you see me smoking more cigars and my alcohol intake increasing, you will know we’ve pulled the trigger. I guess it’s a good thing I’m now on Medicare.

This “Digital Answering System” will be Going by the Wayside.

Addendum:

  • Here’s a link to the entire WaPo article if you are interested: https://wapo.st/438278B
  • Statistical charts in the blog are from the WaPo article.

Seven Questions

Seven Questions

On June 24th, we woke to the news the Wagner Group rebelled against the Russian military and was marching on Moscow. Twelve hours later, it was all over. Peace at hand? More problems to come? Certainly we have ripples of instability, never a good thing in world affairs.

There’s nothing like a coup attempt to grab my attention before I’ve had my morning coffee. On that fateful Saturday, I watched with fascination as Prigozhin’s Wagner Group troops took over the Rostov Russian Military Headquarters and then started their march on Moscow. It appears they were within 120 miles of the capitol before the insurrection ended as suddenly as it began, and Belarus leader Lukashenko worked out a peace between Putin and Prigozhin.

Whoops…I Didn’t Really Mean It

The terms? Maybe, forgiveness for the troops, a safe passage of Prigozhin to Belarus, and no invasion of Moscow itself. Yea, a win-win for everyone – if you believe in fairytales. The “fog of war”, and the cloak around all things “Russia” makes it difficult to assess what is true, what is false, and what is somewhere in between. It will all play out over the next few months. What I know is there is now increased instability in the region, and the world. I’m not a big fan of instability. No sane person should be a fan of instability as we are now experiencing in Russia.

Will The Peace Last?

I am by no means a Russian expert, but I am a student of history. I also spent nearly a decade in the Army in Germany in the ‘80s waiting for them to attack us, and had the opportunity to learn a bit about them then as well. So, while I’m no expert, I do feel confident that I know more than about 95% of the talking heads on TV, and 99% more than all of those spouting off online.

Here are seven questions we don’t have the answers for. I waited this long after the putsch attempt to publish this blog in order for events to develop and perhaps answers become apparent to some of the questions. I don’t believe that has happened. The fog, and the world’s instability will remain until we have a better understanding of the answers. If someone on TV or online says they have the answers right now, you should immediately change your TV channel or go elsewhere online. They are probably lying.

1. Has Putin weakened? Between his failing attacks in Ukraine and this mini-coup, he looks like it, but looks can be deceiving. He is shrewd, and he is ruthless. I wouldn’t count him out just yet.

2. What WAS the agreement between Putin and Prigozhin? Is there wiggle room for both of them? Will they somehow be buddies after all is done? Or are they both out to kill each other?

3. A related question – How hard will Putin try to crush those who rose against him? Putin is not the forgiving type. In addition to settling up with Mr Prigozhin, he will certainly look at how easily the headquarters at Rostov fell. Was there complicity on the part of his generals there, or weakness? In either case, heads are likely to roll.

4. What about the Wagner troops? There are 25,000, give or take, wandering around Southwestern Russia, or in Ukraine with plenty of guns, tanks, and other weapons. They have served as the pointy end of the spear for the Russians in most of their attacks over the past year. If they are now peaceably subsumed into regular Russian units (as the Russian Army is trying to make happen), what happens to their effectiveness? What happens to the effectiveness of the units they are added to? And what happens if they don’t go quietly into the night?

5. What happens to the other Wagner Group troops scattered around the globe providing “security” and other services in places such as Sudan, Mali, Syria, the Central African Republic, Libya, Venezuela and Sri Lanka among others? Does Prigozhin continue to lead them, does someone else, or do they fade away?

6. How will this affect the war in Ukraine? If the Wagner Group is dissolved as a fighting force, what is the impact? Also, the other Russian troops in Ukraine have to know at least some of what has happened. How will they react?

7. How safe are Russia’s nuclear weapons? Are we confident they are managed and controlled in a secure fashion?

As I said, I’m not a big fan of instability, and right now, this situation provides plenty of it. Some people in this country would say ignore it, it’s not our problem. Others (I’m looking at you Majorie Taylor Greene) stupidly question whether the US was somehow behind the coup. Both of those courses are unwise. Any time there is instability in the world the ripples make their way in our direction, arriving sooner or later. The only question is whether the ripples fade away, or due to activities we can’t see below the surface, turn into a tsunami.

And don’t forget China lurking around out there as well. Their commentary was generally muted about these events. I believe they are a bigger longterm threat to us both militarily and economically. Having said that, I’m more concerned about an unstable Russia right now, than I am about a stable China.

The Rich Soil of Ukraine

The Rich Soil of Ukraine

Bob made a comment to Viktor, his father-in-law, about how Ukrainian soil is “so rich and black, it stains my hands like ink!”. Viktor’s retort? “Well Robert, over the centuries, many idiots have tried to capture Ukraine, and we keep having to bury them in the ground here – that is why the soil is so rich.”

Bob and Viktor

Those lines came from my friend Bob Pitts recently published book, UKRAINE: THE AWAKENING: My 20 years of witnessing Ukrainians rediscover their nationhood. Those of you who are regular readers of this blog know that I’ve recently written a couple of articles about Bob and his current life in Ukraine. You can find links to those blogs in the Addendum. Over the past eighteen years, Bob and his wife Vita have divided their time between the USA and Ukraine, where Vita is originally from. They have lived in Ukraine continually for the last two years, and have seen up close and personal Putin’s unjust attack on, and war with, Ukraine.

When the war began, Bob became concerned about how little westerners, especially Americans, understood about Ukraine, its people, its history and how the relationship with Russia is misinterpreted in Western media coverage. As a result of that concern, he wrote UKRAINE: THE AWAKENING. The book gives readers a view into Ukrainian culture and the beauty of the people. I’ve bought and read the book and recommend it to anyone who has even a remote concern about Ukraine and world events. Here’s my quick review.

Ukraine: The Awakening

Bob is, of course, correct. Most of us Americans know little about Ukraine, or its history. That’s what makes this book so perfect. A scant 135 pages, it gives us the basics. With a combination of current events, a bit of personal and family history, a little Ukrainian and Russian History, interviews with some Ukrainian young adults and thoughts about the future, Bob achieves his goal – it not only talks about Ukraine’s Awakening over the past twenty years, it provides the reader with an awakening as well.

Bob isn’t one of the great writers America has produced like Ernest Hemingway (Fiction), or David McCullough (History/Biography). For the purposes of this book, I think he’s something better – he’s a conversationalist. Reading the book feels a bit like sitting in his family room, or at a local bar with him and he is giving you his thoughts on Ukraine. With a casual, but passionate writing style, Bob pulls you in, and then gives you some things to think about. Eminently readable, it’s an important book at the right time.

While the entire book is good, my favorite section contains interviews with three young Ukrainians, each telling their own story. These aren’t fairytales, but real stories by real people. These are dynamic, vibrant stories that give you hope for the future, not only for Ukraine, but also for young adults everywhere. As The Who sang, “The Kids Are Alright.”

Artem, One of Those Interviewed by Bob.

The Ukrainian counteroffensive has been going on for a few weeks now and Ukraine will remain in the news. Additionally, the Wagner group takeover of Rostov and attack towards Moscow started and then stopped. Who knows what impact that will have. Some will pay attention. Some will not. If you are a smart and caring person, I recommend you pay attention. I also recommend you buy this book. Ukraine is too important and all of us should learn more about this country. You can find it on Amazon, and the price is right. Go ahead and buy it. What are you afraid of? That you might learn something new?

Addendum:

Holly and Eve

Holly and Eve

Detective Sam Sullivan looked at the woman’s body and raised an eyebrow. Something wasn’t quite right. The morgue’s Medical Examiner looked at him. “Did I miss something?” Sullivan shook his head and lowered his eye, which, by the way, was killing him from the punch he took two nights before.

“No, nothing immediately, but something’s not right. Thanks.”

Something Wasn’t Right.

Detective. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t a detective. He wasn’t even a cop anymore. A Private Investigator is what he was now. A PI. A dick. A shamus. Or that bullshit modern term he hated, an Inquiry Agent. Bogie as Sam Spade made it look romantic. In reality, the job was anything but romantic. In reality, all it did for him was pay the mortgage, and it didn’t do a particularly good job at that.

He left the hospital, climbed into his F250 and drove away. The F250, much like its owner, had seen better days. It was rusty and dented, but the engine still worked fine. Actually, better than fine. The truck was from 2002, the last full year Ford put the 7.3 liter V8 diesel engine in the 250 and people were constantly trying to buy it from him. At least no one had tried to steal it. As he left the parking lot, he drove the speed limit. There was lots to think about and he was in no particular hurry to get anywhere.

It was late afternoon by the time he reached home. He pulled out the Elijah Craig, poured himself a small glass and grabbed a Gispert. In the old days, he drank Blanton’s, but ever since bourbon had become a “thing” Blanton’s was impossible to find. Nowadays, all the idiot bourbon collectors bought it up as soon as it hit the shelves and drove the price to stupid levels. That’s OK, he thought. Me and Mr. Craig get along just fine. Eventually bourbon as a fad will fade, and we can all go back to normal. He took a sip and walked towards the door.

Out on the back porch, he took another sip and then lit the Gispert. He only smoked a cigar every couple of weeks, and like the Elijah Craig, the Gispert was decent. If you were going to smoke only an occasional cigar, why overpay for the privilege?

No, something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure it out. If he hadn’t taken the punch in the bar parking lot two nights ago, he would have agreed Eve’s death was indeed accidental, as the Medical Examiner had decreed. Still, the punch and something about Eve today made him think otherwise. What the hell was different about Eve?

His glass was empty, but half the cigar was still left, so he poured himself another inch and a half of bourbon. This was going to take some time.

He turned it over in his mind. Eve was laying there on the slab, looking pretty as always, but something was off. Her jewelry was missing, but that was to be expected. He started drifting off to sleep and as a dream began, the answer popped into his brain.

…

His phone rang and brought him out of the light sleep. With that, the answer to Eve’s appearance disappeared like morning mist on a hot day. He looked at the number and answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Sullivan?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Robert Samual Sullivan?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Sullivan, this is Amy with Doctor Frank’s office. I just wanted you to know your test results came in and are positive. I’m so sorry. We’ll definitely need to schedule the procedure soon.”

He didn’t say anything. Of course it came back positive. Only a fool, or someone with regular good luck would expect anything else.

“Mr. Sullivan. Mr Sullivan, are you there?”

“Yea. I’m here. Thanks.” He hung up the phone and went into the kitchen for a drink of water.

A voice called out from the bedroom. “Bob, who was on the phone? Is everything OK?” He shuffled into the bedroom and looked at Holly, his wife. She hadn’t been able to leave the bed under her own power since the accident. He couldn’t tell her. Or at least he couldn’t tell her right now. “Nobody. It was DirectTV trying to sell us expanded service.” Holly’s caregiver, Millie, looked at him with dead eyes but he just stared back until she looked away.

He turned around and walked to the couch where he lay down and tried to go back to sleep. No, he was no detective, and he wasn’t much of a PI. He was just one more semi-retired guy, running out of rope. He hadn’t really smoked in a decade, and under doctors orders, had mostly quit drinking the year before, but it didn’t make a difference. His condition had worsened. He’d have to deal with it at some point, just as he would have to tell Holly everything at some point. What a nightmare it had all become. Thirty years together and this is what it had all come to.

The place he mostly smoked or drank now was in his dreams. Maybe if he got back to sleep quick enough, the dream would start up again and Detective Sam Sullivan could help solve the problem of Eve’s death, while having a bourbon or two. Anything was better than dealing with the problems of real life in the real world. Anything.

Addendum:

  • This is the first time I’ve written any fiction for the blog (or at all for that matter). My old friend James Sullivan posted a closeup picture of his eyes and I was enthralled by it. I asked him if I could use it for the basis of a story. He readily agreed. At the time I had no idea what the story would be about, and then after a couple of days, this one popped into my brain. Weirdly, it was all inspired by the eyes.
  • James and I worked together years ago at a company called SRA. He’s an Army Veteran, a great chef, works in IT and is a smart and generous person. Other than his eyes, he has nothing in common with Robert Samual Sullivan (that I am currently aware of 🙂 ). Thanks so much for use of the photo James!
James Sullivan – Owner of the Eyes
  • This “short” short story may stop here, or I may continue it. If you have any thoughts either way, leave a comment here, or shoot me an email at: mnhall@gmail.com . If even mildly interested in learning more about Robert, Holly and Eve, let me know. If I were to continue the story, it might happen with an occasional blog, or I may try a different route.

The little c

The little c

The surgery went well. As far as cancers go, squamous cell carcinoma (a type of skin cancer) is usually pretty minor, but it was still good to have the surgery over and done with. Cancer is one of those words that draws your attention, or at least it draws my attention.

It all started late last winter when I noticed a scaly spot on my forehead. I didn’t think much about it at first. Due to my AFIB, I take Eliquis, a blood thinner. One of the results of blood thinners is scrapes, cuts and wounds sometimes heal a bit weirdly. The blood doesn’t clot quite the same way it does for a normal person and as a result, minor scrapes or cuts can take a while to heal. That’s what I thought was going on with this scrape.

Unfortunately, it didn’t disappear and I mentioned it to Cathy. She looked and recommended I consult a doctor, so I called the Warrenton Dermatology and Skin Therapy Center at the end of April. They were a bit backed up and scheduled an appointment for me on May 9th.

On May 9th, I arrived at the Center and explained why I was there. They examined the spot and thought it looked OK, but there was something right next to the spot that concerned them. After numbing my forehead, they took a biopsy and told me the results would be back in ten days to two weeks and they would call me.

10 days came and went, then 11, then 12, then 13 days and still no word. Finally on Day 14 I called them. The results had just arrived, but hadn’t yet been reviewed by a doctor. And… They couldn’t release the results until a doctor reviewed them.

The next day, May 23d, I received a call from Danielle at the center. The biopsy came back positive for squamous cell carcinoma. What? What did you say? Squamous Cell Carcinoma.

A Diagnosis of Squamous Cell Carcinoma

Danelle continued to speak, and after a few seconds, I started listening again. They recommended the removal of the cancer with Mohs Surgery. They could do it there, or if I wanted to go with another dermatologist, I could. Another dermatologist? Until two weeks ago, I didn’t know any dermatologists… I told them their office was fine. After consulting calendars, the first available date was Saturday, June 3rd – 8AM and 12 noon were available. Was there nothing in between? Well, no, Danelle informed me – the surgery could take one to four hours, I should wear comfortable clothes, and bring something to read or pass the time.

What!?!

It turns out the surgery, while relatively simple, can take some time. Here’s how Mohs surgery works (according to the Mayo Clinic):

You are given a local anesthetic. After the anesthetic takes effect, the surgeon uses a scalpel to remove the visible portion of the cancer. The surgeon also takes a thin layer of tissue underneath and around the cancer. A temporary bandage is placed where the skin was removed. This takes only a few minutes.

The tissue is then taken to the lab for analysis. This part of the procedure usually takes the longest time and you'll wait about an hour in a waiting room.

In the lab, the surgeon cuts the tissue sample into sections and looks at them with a microscope. If there is more cancer, your Mohs surgery continues. 

The surgeon removes an additional layer of tissue from the affected area. Again, you'll wait while the surgeon looks at the tissue in the lab.

This process continues until the last tissue sample removed is cancer-free. During the procedure, you may receive another shot of local anesthetic if necessary.

I chose the 8AM slot and the appointment was in the book. Of course after that, I did more research, and came to realize I was pretty lucky.

According to the Mayo Clinic, there are three major types of skin cancer – basal cell carcinoma, squamous cell carcinoma and melanoma. While squamous cell is considered relatively “mild”, if left untreated it can destroy nearby healthy tissue, spread to the lymph nodes or other organs, and may be fatal, although this is uncommon.

I also learned skin cancers are caused by many things, but most often are the result of overexposure to the sun. I guess my days of lifeguarding back in the early ‘70s may have had something to do with it. Not only did we not use any type of sunscreen, we used baby oil to tan more quickly. Whoops.

Time passed and I spoke with others. It turns out I’m actually a bit late to the skin cancer party. I learned numerous friends and acquaintances around my age have developed skin cancer. Many had the Mohs procedure, and all said it wasn’t a big deal.

On the 2nd of June, I made a big steak dinner with a salad. I mean, what the hell, if you are having a cancerous growth removed, it seemed a reasonable thing to do. A couple of glasses of wine, and a couple of hours of bad TV later, I went to bed and slept like a rock.

The next morning, after having some coffee and a small breakfast, I drove to the Center in Warrenton. On the way there, Taj Mahal and Keb’ Mo’ were singing “Waiting on the World to Change” on the radio and while I’m not sure why, it seemed to fit somehow.

I arrived at the center just before 8AM that Saturday. Doctor Dolan and his assistant, Amanda started their work just after 8:00. After Amanda put about 5 shots in my forehead to numb it, the Doctor came in. He was retired Navy, which for some strange reason gave me comfort. By 8:20, DR Dolan had taken the first cuttings and Amanda was cauterizing the one-inch wound. I recognized that peculiar smell of burning flesh from a previous surgery, but didn’t feel anything, as the anesthetic was still doing its job. Amanda escorted me to the waiting room where I did some reading while waiting for the results.

Thirty minutes later, Amanda came and gave me the good news. I was clear after the first pass. She said I was probably the easiest and shortest surgery the doctor would have all day. We went back to one of the rooms where the good doctor stitched me up. Seven or eight stitches I think but if you look at the picture, they’re big stitches. That’s fine with me. Just a little more character added to my forehead, and vitamin E should make it disappear over the course of the next year.

Mohs Surgery in Four Easy Steps.

There was a headache for a day or two, and a slight black eye in my future, but that was alright. Things were OK, at least for now.

In 1964, actor John Wayne was diagnosed with lung cancer. Some people recommended he hide the diagnosis due to concerns about his image – they thought it might make him look weak. At the time, many public figures hid illnesses they had for image reasons. He chose the opposite path. During a press conference after the surgery the Duke said “They told me to withhold my cancer operation from the public because it would hurt my image. Isn’t there a good image in John Wayne beating cancer? Sure, I licked the Big C.”

Squamous Cell Carcinoma isn’t the “Big C”. We have friends and family who are dealing with, or have dealt with breast cancer, lung cancer, pancreatic cancer, brain cancer, prostate cancer, melanomas… there’s a lot of bad stuff falling into the “Big C” category. I know I’m quite lucky and this is fairly minor, so let’s just call it the “little c”.

One of the things for people to remember is that any cancer, even something relatively minor like my “little c” squamous cell carcinoma can kill you if left untreated. If you see something that doesn’t quite look right on your skin, have it checked out. If everything is fine, all you did was lose an hour of time. And if it turns out to be a cancer of some sort, you did the right thing and can have it treated.

No need to be macho. No need to be stoic. Just get the damned thing checked out.

Really. Just Get the Damned Thing Checked Out.
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Addendum:

– If you live in the Warrenton/western DC suburbs area, I highly recommend the Warrenton Dermatology and Skin Therapy Center. They are great, and take care of you. You can find more about them here: https://www.warrentondermatology.com/

June 14, A Big Day Every Year

June 14, A Big Day Every Year

As my friend and West Point Classmate Bill Moeller noted, it is perhaps no coincidence that the Birthday of the United States Army, Flag Day and National Bourbon Day are all celebrated each year on the same Date: June 14th. It turns out all three of their stories go back to the late 1700s.

I’ve always thought that understanding our nation’s history was important. When I learned June 14th was shared by the Army, our Flag, and Bourbon, it seemed worth doing some historical digging. Here’s what I learned.

Before there was an American Flag, before there was American Bourbon, the United States Army was around to protect both.

One year prior to declaring our independence from Great Britain, the Continental Congress approved the formation of the Army on 14 June 1775. On that date, they authorized the enlistment of ten companies of riflemen to serve the United Colonies for one year to form the “the American Continental Army.” The next day, Congress issued its first commission by appointing George Washington “General and Commander in chief of the Army of the United Colonies, and of all the forces now raised, or to be raised by them, and of all others who shall voluntarily offer their services, and join the Defense of American liberty, and for repelling every hostile invasion…”

Washington Crossing the Delaware with the Continental Army in December 1776.

While there are some questions about whether Betsy Ross actually sewed the first American flag, there is no doubt about when Congress recognized our first flag. On June 14, 1777, two years after the formation of the Army, Congress passed the Flag Resolution, which stated, “Resolved: that the flag of the United States be made of thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new Constellation.” In 1916, President Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation that officially established June 14 as Flag Day and on August 3, 1949, National Flag Day was established by an Act of Congress.

A New Constellation.

The story of National Bourbon Day is, not surprisingly, a bit murkier. One legend has it that bourbon was first produced by Reverend Elijah Craig on June 14th, 1789. In the late 1780s, Craig was allegedly using old fish barrels to store his spirits. Of course, the fish-flavored wood did not help the taste at all, so Craig started conditioning the barrels by charring the inside. He then stamped the barrels with their county of origin (Bourbon County in what was then Virginia and is now Kentucky) and sent them on a 90-day trip to New Orleans. The charred oak and three-month travel time combined to mellow the whiskey some and folks in New Orleanians requested more of “that whiskey from Bourbon.” Yes, I agree the story, or at least the date of June 14th sounds a bit fishy (pun intended), but who am I to judge? There are enough other competing stories that all trace the origin of “bourbon” to the 1780s and make that time period a credible time of origination. As a side note, in 1964, the United States Congress recognized bourbon as a “distinctive product of the United States of America”.

Bourbon Anyone?

So, there you have it, a bit of distinctly American history. As an Army Vet, I know what I’ll be doing on June 14th. I’ll raise a glass of bourbon in a salute to both our Flag, and all of the Army Veterans who have served our country over the years. I hope you will join me. It seems to me the least we can do.

Cheers to All on June 14th From This Veteran…

Addendum:

– For the record, the United States Army is the senior service. The Continental Navy was established on 13 October 1775, and The Continental Marines on 10 November 1775. The Coast Guard traces it’s beginnings to 4 August 1790. The Air Force was established as an independent service on 18 September 1947, and the Space Force (ughhh) was established on 20 December 2019.

– National Bourbon Day – I searched to find out when the first National Bourbon Day occurred, but could find nothing online.

– Here are a couple of other historical facts about bourbon itself:

  • The Elijah Craig story is a nice one, but there’s no historical proof of it. There were certainly others who were shipping whiskey in barrels in the 1780s.
  • The Marker’s Mark distillery, which opened in 1805, is the oldest distillery in the country, and has been declared a National Historic Landmark.
  • In 1834 Doctor James Crow perfected the sour mash process and made what was probably the first “modern” bourbon. He employed the “Sour Mash Method” on a daily basis to give his whiskey consistency.
  • In 1840, “Bourbon”, by name, was first advertised in a newspaper.
  • In 1840 bourbon whiskey officially became known as bourbon. Before then, the product carried the name Bourbon County Whiskey or Old Bourbon County Whiskey.
  • In 1870 Old Forester became “America’s First Bottled Bourbon” when founder George Brown was the first to put Bourbon in a glass bottle. Prior to that, it was only available in barrels.