Tag: #memories

Eric

Eric

On a beautiful sunny day, sixteen of us attended the funeral of our brother, Eric Franks. The service was perhaps, more poignant, as it was the Friday before Memorial Day. It’s always bittersweet when members of the West Point Proud and Great class of ‘78 gather and say goodbye to a classmate. 

At our 45th class reunion last fall, we held a memorial service for the 82 classmates who have passed away. This year, since January, at least ten additional classmates have died. The rate of our passing seems to have increased, but I suppose we are at that age. The youngest of us is 67.  The oldest, maybe 71. 

For those who pass away, a contingent of classmates typically attends the funeral services. Depending on when and where it is, there might be only one or two of us able to make it, or as at Eric’s, as many as 16 or more. It’s not only a last chance to honor a brother, but also an opportunity to spend time with each other and catch up in person. The sands drop through the hourglass more quickly these days and I think we all know it. Bittersweet indeed.

And so it was with Eric. Over the years, Cath and I saw Eric and his wife Robin at various reunions, or mini-reunions. The past few years, we also met them, along with our classmate Gus Hellzen and his wife Janice for an occasional beer or lunch on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. All three couples were married over 45 years ago in the weeks after our June, 1978 graduation. Our wives also made the journey through West Point and the Army.

B-3 Company-Mates and Wives at a Class Mini Reunion in 2022: Hellzens, Wells, Franks, Halls and Powells.

At the service, most classmates in attendance were from the MidAtlantic region, but some flew in from Alabama and Florida among other places. Classmate Brad Andrews, a close friend of Eric’s was one of two speakers giving a eulogy. He told stories of Eric from our cadet days and his time in the Army, including Panama. He talked about Eric becoming a renowned and pioneering Orthopedic Surgeon and the impact he had both on his patients and on other doctors. He also spoke of Eric having cancer and how it didn’t slow him down, even at the end of his life. At the end of his talk, he called the attending West Point graduates to attention and we rendered a final hand salute to Eric. 

After the service, we gathered outside the church and a group photo was taken, something that has become a tradition at funerals, but also other times when some of us gather together to celebrate life and each other. The photos are usually posted to our class Facebook Page, or our email server. “Yes,” we seem to say, “we are still alive, celebrating our brother, each other and The Long Grey Line. Grip Hands.” At funerals in particular, the phrase “Grip Hands”, from the song The Corps* is more real and more important. 

Class of 1978 at Dr. Eric Franks funeral in Salisbury, MD. L-R: Charlie Bartolotta, Max Hall, Bond Wells, Bob Rush, Craig College, Kevin MacCaffery, Kevin Beam, Bob Maszarose, Charlie Dixon, Adolf Ernst, Brad Andrews, Jack Paul, Hank Gillen, Chris Maxfield, Gus Hellzen & Jim Galloway.

Most of us eventually made our way to Robin and Eric’s home for lunch and libation. It was a lively time, with more laughter than tears as far as I could tell. We met with family and friends of Eric from throughout his life. At one point, Gus poured small glasses of WhistlePig** for all who wished to join us in a toast – “To Eric – Grip hands and be thou at peace. Proud & Great ‘78! Here’s to Eric.”   And then, echoing from our formal events in the military (in an Army that was still mostly male in our early days), his second toast, “To the ladies!”

Eventually Cath and I said our goodbyes and left for the drive home. Along the way, we talked of the day and what a fine tribute to Eric it was.

During the drive, I also thought of some of the words Brad used in his eulogy for Eric. He quoted Samual Johnson, saying “To my question, as to whether we might fortify our minds for the approach of death, he answered in a passion, ‘No, Sir, let it alone. It matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time.’ “

Our hearts are with Robin, their children Erica and Ricky, and with their families. Here’s to you Eric – You led a life worth living. Be Thou at Peace.

Eric and Robin

Addendum:

  • Here are the words to “The Corps”:

  • WhistlePig Rye Whiskey holds a special place with our class. If you want to learn why, you can read more here – 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 want to let our classmates down […] Continue here: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2023/05/09/__trashed-2/
  • Thanks to Gus Hellzen for the photo of Eric and Robin at the start of this blog. Thanks to Cathy for the photo of classmates at Eric’s service.

Goodbye Mama Cat

Goodbye Mama Cat

It was a May morning when Mama Cat said her goodbyes. It was sunny, but I strongly felt the physical presence of death. I couldn’t see him, but he was there with us, waiting. Mama Cat, Carmen and Ollie knew it as well. I felt a shiver, in spite of the sun. 

Our dog Carmen and I had walked to the barn to put the horses out. Mama laid in the sun in the driveway near the barn entrance. Ollie, our other barn cat was nosing up to her and he and Mama were nuzzling each other, something I’d never seen them do. Carmen didn’t chase her like he usually did. Although we walked up within three or four feet, Mama didn’t run and Carmen didn’t chase. They just sat there looking at each other, something I’d also never seen before. That’s when I knew.

Actually, I believe Mama, Ollie and Carmen knew the score before I did.  That’s why they were all acting so strange, which is what made me pick up on death’s presence.

I sat in the driveway by Mama and petted her. Carmen and Ollie just stood there looking at us. I picked her up, put her in my lap and felt her body for any injuries or wounds. I couldn’t find any. I rolled Mama on her back and rubbed her belly. She purred a bit.  I turned her back over and rubbed her back. After a couple of minutes, she climbed out of my lap and lay back on the driveway looking at me. 

Maybe something was wrong with her, or maybe it was just her time. I thought she’d gradually gone downhill in the last couple of weeks. And then one day she just looked “old”. Not bad, but old. She’d lost a bit of weight and moved slower. She wasn’t as interested in her breakfast, whereas before, she always ate as if starving. Old age creeps up on all of us I guess. 

That morning, I decided we needed to take her to the vet and see if something was wrong with her, or if it was time to put her down. I decided I would put the cat food out in the barn, take the horses out and then come back and get Mama while she was eating breakfast. 

As Carmen and I led the second horse out, I saw Ollie-Cat walk slowly by on the other side of the fence and I thought to myself, “OK, time to get Mama.”  I went back through the barn and … she was gone. Not in the driveway basking in the sun, not by her food, not anywhere in the barn. I looked across our yard and our neighbor’s field and she was nowhere in sight.  I called, but there was no answering meow.  

I shivered again and felt a tear fall from one of my eyes.  I didn’t know for sure, but felt I would never see her again. 

She didn’t come for dinner that night and neither Cath or I saw her after that. Not the next day, or the day after, or over a week later. 

I suppose a wild animal could have killed her, but I don’t think that’s what happened. I think she knew it was her time. I’d like to think she found a favorite spot in the woods, or fields, or by the pond and was lying there peacefully when death came to her and whispered softly, “It’s time old girl. It’s time to cross the bridge Mama Cat.” 

Mama Cat, a Little Over a Year Ago.

Goodbye Mama Cat. We were lucky to have you in our life.

Addendum:

⁃ I wrote one previous blog about Mama Cat. You can read it here – We inherited Mama Cat about four years ago. Our neighbor had to move to a small apartment and had two other cats she was taking with her, but couldn’t take three. Mama roamed the neighborhood at will and was a frequent overnight guest at our barn, so Cathy said we’d look out for her […] Continue here: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2023/10/03/mama-cat/

Spreadsheets and Stories

Spreadsheets and Stories

Mom and Dad’s wedding anniversary was last week. They were married 73 years ago on May 14th, 1951.  I was thinking about them and how both influenced my life and the lives of others. Many people say I remind them of dad, but Cathy, my wife, says mom shines through me. 

In my view, both views are right and I’m a product of the two of them. Upbringing and genetics combined, making me who I am, although not always in ways people think. 

Our environment at home was a good one. They had a unified front in how to raise the three of us kids and supported and reinforced each other at home. I’m hard pressed to remember a single time with any separation between them in their views about how to raise us. Home was a good environment, but they were also strict about what we could and couldn’t do as kids. They certainly encouraged us, and gave us carrots/rewards, but they also weren’t opposed to spankings and we all received our fair share. We learned about honesty, work, fairness, friendship and love in our home on Cherokee Lane. I think that environment and those ideals prepared me for life.  

Our Family in the 60s.

There were differences in their individual personalities and how they approached life for themselves. Like many good marriages, their ways were complementary to each other and for them, it was a classic case of 1 + 1 = 3.    I’ll talk about a couple of examples here and how they rubbed off on me. 

Most who know me would say I’m pretty organized – some might even say anally so. I’ve been that way for much of my life. I use to-do lists, spreadsheets, outlines, plans … probably more than most. While some think I inherited that from dad, it’s actually pure mom. That’s how she attacked life, and her work. She was the secretary in the main office at our local high school. If you needed to find out something, the standard answer was “go ask Gen”.  When I applied to West Point, it was mom who organized everything, making sure my packet was complete and reflected well on me. 

Mom and I on Graduation Day at West Point.

I’ve thought about how much of my “orderliness” was a product of her, or of my time at West Point and in the Army. Maybe over the years, they became mutually reinforcing. 

Dad on the other hand, was a bit looser in his approach to life.  I’m not sure how much the war influenced him, but I think quite a bit. I’m betting getting wounded and almost dying makes you approach a lot of things differently, and so it was with dad. He was a hard worker, but when work was done, he enjoyed life. Dinners out, dancing, having a few drinks. When the weekend came, he was ready to enjoy it and life. I think he approached life in general that way, and tried not to let things burden or worry him, even when there were challenges. 

He was also a gifted storyteller. Telling tales about his childhood, or the war, or one of the railroads he worked for – he could tell his story and make you feel you were right there. You were living it with him while he talked. It was a special gift and over the years if you were ever with dad at our home, or somewhere else, you probably heard more than a few of his stories.  Even when he repeated them, he could still make you laugh.  

One other thing about Dad. He never made all that much money, but money never had a hold on him. He was always generous, with family, friends and strangers.

I certainly inherited his lust for life and try to enjoy every day. As for story telling, well, I think I have some of his ability to tell a tale, however if I’m honest with myself, I’m only a pale imitation in that department.  It’s perhaps what I miss about him the most. 

Dad and I Swapping Stories, While Drinking Some Wine in the Alps

They both were friends with people of all ages and had the ability to put people at ease. When traveling, they would inevitably make new friends.  

My cousin Dawn may have given the best description of mom and dad I’ve ever heard. “Your mom was like home.  Comfortable and warm.  Your dad was like a spark that gets a flame going then keeps the fire dancing. They were special people.  I’m smiling now thinking about it.”

Although both mom and dad have passed on, I’m wishing them a happy belated anniversary. I’m thankful for the gifts they’ve given me, and for the enrichment they brought so many others. 

Happy Anniversary and Thank You for Everything.

Addendum:

  • Thanks to my cousin, Dawn Tedrick, for her wonderful description of my folks!

Top and Cathy

Top and Cathy

With no kids to talk about, Cath and I have a million stories about our dogs, particularly our first dog, Top. Don’t parents always have the most pictures and stories about their first born?! A German friend called Top “Einmalig”, which translates to “one of a kind”. This story, from 1981, involved Top, Cathy hitting a tree with our car, the MPs, the German Polizei and a little old lady. We were stationed in Würzburg, Germany at the time.

Cathy and Top, Around the Time of the Story.

Cathy had been shopping at the commissary and was returning home with both Top and our groceries in the back seat. Here is her version of what happened.

#—#

Top and I were on our way home from shopping at the commissary at Leighton Barracks in Würzburg one afternoon. As we entered a traffic circle, I must have been going a little too fast, as the groceries fell over onto Top and scared him. Out of my peripheral vision I saw him try and jump out my car window. I caught him by the collar and pulled him back into the car, but of course I didn’t pay attention to where I was driving. When I looked back at the road I was heading straight for a tree, which I hit. I must have only glanced off of it because the car was fine, or so I thought at the time.

I kept driving and stopped at a red light, where reaction to the accident set in. I said to Top in the back seat, “Well at least we are still together and OK!” I looked in the back and Top wasn’t there – he jumped out of the window after all. I pulled over and imagining the worst, got out of the car and looked under it, making sure I hadn’t dragged him by his leash. No Top there, so that was a small bit of grace, but where was he, and what to do?

I was near the American MP station, so I drove there.  I repeated the story of what happened, and they decided it would be prudent to call the Polizei.  

In Germany, they treat their animals and trees well. Really well. If you illegally kill an animal or damage or fell a tree, there are hefty fines. Hearing we were involving the PoIizei, I naturally became concerned and worried about both them and a potential fine. My only real interaction with the Polizei up to this time was at the German airports where they guarded against terrorists, were always in riot gear and carrying automatic weapons.  You didn’t mess around with them.

The Polizei arrived and looked a bit stern at first.  I explained everything again, this time in German, and at one point I think I saw one of the Polizei hiding a laugh or a small smirk.  I should point out you generally didn’t see the Polizei laughing.   In this instance they were quite nice and helpful.  We determined the tree wasn’t really damaged and they let me go with a warning to drive more carefully.  

As I was getting ready to leave, it turned out something was wrong with the car, as it was making a funny noise. The MPs and I decided to leave the car at the MP station and have someone pick me up. We called Hindenburg Kaserne where Max was stationed, but he had deployed to an undisclosed location in the field and was unreachable. His company said they would send Lieutenant Smrt (yes, that really was his last name – it had no vowels) from his Company to pick me up.

I was waiting on a corner for LT Smrt’s arrival when all of a sudden Top, seemingly without a care, trotted down the sidewalk towards me, trailing his leash. I grabbed him and sat on the corner hugging and holding him, crying tears of joy and relief. A little old lady who was walking by, stopped and asked me what was wrong and “Ist dein Hund krank?” (Is your dog sick?) I looked at her and just couldn’t go through the story a third time, and for a second time in German. I said the easiest thing that came to mind. “Ja. Er hat Krebs.” (Yes, he has cancer.) She petted Top, wished us good luck and looking sad, walked away.

We’ve told this story over the years and it always gets a chuckle. I laugh at myself a bit in the telling. We spoke fluent, or near fluent German at the time, but I was so overwhelmed with emotions, the “Krebs” story was the best I could do. 

#—#

Top was with us for 16 years, dying, not of cancer, but old age in 1997. By then he was a world traveler, having crossed the Atlantic three times, visited numerous European countries and several States back home. He truly was Einmalig and we still miss him and his antics.

Top – With and Without a Haircut.

Addendum:

Here are three previous blogs about Top.

  • I don’t know if our dog,Top, could bark in both German and English, but he had a fluent understanding of the two languages … We discovered this outside our local Bäckerei (Bakery), when an old German lady bent down, looked at Top and said “Gib mir deine Pfote”. As she extended her hand, Top […] Continue here: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2020/07/15/our-bilingual-dog-top/
  • Next month, it will be 25 years since our first dog, Top, passed away. He was 17 at the time. I was recently thinking about him, as we placed baskets on couches and chairs, so our current dog, Carmen, couldn’t hop up for a quick snooze while we were out. We weren’t that smart with Top. He was a covert couch sleeper the entire […] Continue here: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2021/12/01/let-sleeping-dogs-lie/
  • Top was our first dog, but not our last. When he died in 1997 at seventeen years of age, I think we cried for three days. We still have a book with all of the sympathy cards our friends sent us. If you want to know a bit more about Top, here’s the eulogy we read when we spread his ashes at Tibbet Knob, on the border between Virginia and West Virginia […] Continue here: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2017/01/09/top/

Dear God,

Dear God,

Dear God, I ask that you guide me, so I do not become a bitter old man. There are so many of them these days. Angry at women, angry at youth, angry at our country, angry at you. Their’s is a seemingly endless list. Often, they appear angry at everything except themselves. Do not let me become that person.

God, I know in our youth, we laughed at angry old men. We didn’t see us becoming them, and yet so many have. They look back with fondness to the “good old days”. I look back, and I’m not sure I see the good times they long for. Which years are they talking about? The depression in the ‘30s? The 400,000 American Soldiers or 75 million who died during WWII? The Korean War, threat of nuclear escalation and racial segregation of the ‘50s? Vietnam along with the racial and civil strife during the ‘60s and ‘70s? The market crashes in ‘87, 2000, ‘07 and 2020? September 11th, 2001? Our recent decades of war in Iraq and Afghanistan?

Lord, I know the world isn’t perfect. We all have problems in our lives. I have problems in my life. Still, I try to see the passing beauty and goodness of each and every day. Why do others choose not to see this? A sunrise or sunset … Flowers … A flock of birds passing overhead … A playful pet … The sounds of nature … The crack of a bat at a baseball game …. There are so many things to be thankful for.

Instead, their hatred, frustration and self-censorship consume their minds, allowing no other sights or sounds to enter. Indeed, my own voice must sound like a clanging bell or siren to them, not penetrating their consciousness, only infuriating them all the more.

God, why do we now have a nation of Howard Beales*, old men who are mad as hell, and aren’t going to take it anymore? Are they not aware Howard was not only “mad as hell”, but also just plain mad? It was network TV for Howard. For the madmen of today, we see it not only on TV, but in their Facebook posts, tweets, messages and email exchanges with those of us who were their friends.

Thank you for listening Lord. I know you are busy. Please help and guide me. Allow me to keep balance in my life. Maybe you could also shine a little light for others as well. Help them also regain some balance. As I learned from the Cadet Prayer years ago, “Kindle our hearts in fellowship with those of a cheerful countenance, and soften our hearts with sympathy for those who sorrow and suffer.”

I ask this in your name,

Amen.

Addendum:

  • * For those of you who don’t recall Howard Beale, here’ a link to the key scene in the movie, “Network”, which was released in 1976 (according to at least some people, part of the good old days). Mad Mr Beale takes to the air waves and, well you can see for yourself here if you’ve forgotten the scene https://youtu.be/GFzlm9wQ4MI
  • The photo at the top of the blog is from “Praying Hands”, a pen-and-ink drawing by the German painter and theorist Albrecht Dürer. Completed in 1508, Wikipedia says it is “the most widely reproduced depiction of prayer in the Western World”.

A Road not Taken

A Road not Taken

When I left the Army 32 years ago in 1992, I had several good job opportunities. One of those was with a new company called Cisco Systems, where my buddy Dave tried to recruit me. He started there in ‘91 and retired a multimillionaire in ‘99. Looking back, it’s a classic “What if…”

After graduating from West Point, my first two tours were in the “muddy boots” Army with 3ID and then VII Corps in Germany. Returning to the States, the Army, in its infinite wisdom, sent me to grad school and I earned a master’s in electrical engineering. Deploying back to Europe in ‘85, the engineering group I was with started designing and implementing something new both for the Army and the world – Computer Local Area Networks (LANs) and Community Area Networks (CANs), eventually connecting them to DoD’s worldwide network. Remember this was all before the World Wide Web started in 1991 and was revolutionary. Hardly anyone even had email at the time. (My first email account was in ‘88 and was actually one account for seven of us in our office).

In our implementations, Dave and I started working with Cisco Systems, which developed the first commercial “router”. Without getting technical, routers enable different computer networks to talk with each other and were one of the necessary physical building blocks for what became the Web. The work we were doing was new enough that we were selected to make a presentation at a NATO Technical Conference in 1989 in Brussels, Belgium.

In ‘89, I returned to the States. Meanwhile, in ‘90 or ‘91 Dave left the Army and was hired by Cisco. Living in London, he became their sales engineer for Eastern Europe and Northern Africa.

Fast forward a couple more years to ‘92. The first Gulf War had ended in victory. The Berlin Wall fell a couple years before, and the USSR was falling apart. The Army decided it would downsize and started offering early-out packages.

I had been promoted to Major in the summer of ‘91 and was in a classified engineering job in the DC area at the time. I wanted to get back to the “muddy boots Army”, but the Army had decided to track me as an engineer and that wasn’t going to happen. After considering all options, in early March of ‘92 I decided it was time to leave the Army and started looking for a job in the civilian world.*

Major Hall Near Retirement Time

Pre-Internet, there were really only two ways to apply for a job – getting referrals from people you knew (always the best) or scanning the ads in newspapers. I was diligent with both and was soon interviewing for several opportunities. In the middle of all of this, Dave returned from London for a short trip and we got together for dinner.

As we talked, Dave grew animated — “I have a great job for you, and you are perfect for it. Cisco is expanding in Europe and we need engineers who understand the technology. It would be an easy transition, although you’d need to move back to Europe.”

I asked Dave to tell me more about what he was doing for Cisco.

“Well, as you know, I live in London – absolutely great city. On Monday morning I head to Heathrow and fly with a sales guy to somewhere in Eastern Europe or Northern Africa. We spend the week there working through sales opportunities. He handles the corporate part, and I work the technical. We also do follow up with locations where we’ve already sold systems. Of course, there are plenty of opportunities for fun while in those countries as well. On Friday, I fly back to London, party in the city and do laundry. On Monday I wake up and repeat the cycle.”

I should mention Dave was single at the time.

I looked at him and he looked back at me. “If you want the job, it’s yours. I can make it happen. It would be a combination of salary, stock and stock options”.** I asked how long he was in town for and said I’d get back to him in a couple of days.

I thought about the opportunity and Cath and I talked about it. While it had great potential, there were also several items in the “no” column. Cath and I spent almost the entire decade of the 80s in Europe, and although we loved it, we missed a decade’s worth of time with family and friends back home, including watching our nieces and nephews grow up. Cath’s career was taking off here in the States – after following me around in the army for over 13 years, was it fair to uproot her again? She also had a new horse and we would need to sell it. At the time, it was also a problem bringing a dog into England and would require months of quarantine there – did we want to subject our dog, Top, to that? And, ultimately, did we want to return to Europe for the kind of life it would be – me on the road five days a week? I’d travelled extensively during my time in the Army, but typically for a week or ten days at a time every month or two. This was a completely different beast.

Of course, Cisco wasn’t yet what it would later become. At the time, it was a small company making a box that would become (but we didn’t know it yet) instrumental in the Internet and a new-fangled idea called the “World Wide Web” – who knew what kind of future they would actually have?

In the end, it was an easy decision to make. I let Dave know I was appreciative of the offer, but had to say no.

Farewell Luncheon from the Army

Cath and I ended up staying in the DC area where I had a dozen interviews and half-a-dozen offers. I joined a company called SRA and enjoyed a wonderful career. Later I was COO at a smaller company called Pragmatics. Both companies were good to me and I retired in 2013 at the age of 58.

And Dave? Dave rode the fast train at Cisco. Cisco went public in 1990, about a decade before the dot-com bubble. According to Forbes, the company was the top-performing Initial Public Offering (IPO) of the 1990s. It reached a peak market capitalization of $555 billion during the height of the dot-com craze, briefly making it the most valuable company in the world. Dave returned to the States in the mid 90s and continued working for Cisco at their headquarters in California. He retired in 1999, cashed in his options and bought a house in Los Gatos, CA and a Porsche. We remained friends and attended his wedding a few years later. One of the smartest guys I know, he went on to work with at least two more startups.

As for Cisco, well, other things happened. The dot-com bubble peaked on Friday, March 10, 2000. Over the next two years Cisco lost 80% of its stock value, but was one of the lucky ones. It rode out the storm and is still around today, still a cornerstone in the Information Technology industry. Many companies went bankrupt or just disappeared during that period of time. I knew several friends who were paper millionaires in the late ‘90s. Almost all of them were looking for new jobs in the early 2000s.

Cisco Systems – The Rise. And the Fall.

Over the years I’ve told the story more than a few times at my own expense. The questions I usually get are “Do you regret it? Do you think about being so close to the opportunity of a lifetime and missing it?”

The truth is, I have occasionally thought about it off and on. I mean, who wouldn’t? It makes a great story. I also often think to myself, yea, I might have become rich as hell by ‘99, but I also might have been divorced. Not that Cathy and I were having any problems at the time, we weren’t. But returning to Europe? On the road that much? Putting our lives back home on hold again for the foreseeable future?

We all have paths and choices in our lives. We never really know how things might have worked out on the other road, do we? Better? Worse? Who knows? I (we) have been pretty happy on the path chosen back in the spring of ‘92. I have no regrets.

Occasionally, in my mind’s eye, through the haze of an alternate future I see myself in a Porsche driving along Highway 1 in California, the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean. About half the time, I seem to be alone in the car.

Addendum:

  • * When I was considering leaving the Army in ‘92, my thought process was only about whether to stay in the Army or not. On purpose, I didn’t cloud the decision with thoughts of a particular job, or salary. It sounds a bit crazy perhaps, but the choice, in my mind, was about Army, or no Army for me. After I decided to leave the Army is when I started looking for a job.
  • ** To put the chance to work for Cisco in perspective, An investment of $10,000 at Cisco’s IPO in 1990 would now amount to around $6.6 million, and that excludes the dividends they started paying in 2011. Of course, an offer with stock and options would have pushed those numbers significantly higher.
  • I did work extensively with Cisco Systems in the late ‘90s when I was a lead engineer for the Pentagon Renovation Program. As the building was gutted one wedge at a time, we were replacing and updating the computer networks then in use. Cisco’s switches and routers were deployed across parts of the Pentagon. At some point I was given this coffee mug, which somehow ended up at my sister Roberta’s home in Illinois. When visiting her, I often use the mug and smile, thinking about alternate lives.

Who Are These Old People?

Who Are These Old People?

I was sitting in my cardiologist’s waiting room and looked around. My immediate thought was, “Wow, there are a lot of older people here”. And then I smiled, because I am of course one of those “older people”. Older is a relative word, but if the shoe fits…

When I was younger, one of the phrases I never thought I would utter was “my cardiologist”. That all changed after I was bitten by a copperhead* and developed AFIB in the summer of 2012. I’ve been in continual AFIB since then, although, honestly, I don’t usually notice it and have continued all of my normal activities.

Yes, I Really was Bitten by a Copperhead.

It did add to the number of drugs I take. For decades, I didn’t need any pills. Oh sure, I took the occasional aspirin or later, ibuprofen, and in the springtime took an allergy pill, but that was about it. Over time, things changed.

First, my allergy pill went from only spring to about three quarters of the year after moving to the farm.

Next came a statin. I spent a couple of years trying to control my cholesterol with diet alone, and while it dropped some, it wasn’t enough. I was tracking my meals at the time and even after I went three months with 90% vegetarian meals it didn’t drop significantly. So, Atorvastatin was added to my mix of drugs and it dropped like a rock. And because atorvastatin can affect CoQ10 levels in the body, it was suggested I take a CoQ10 supplement. It turns out your cells — especially your mitochondria — need CoQ10 to make energy. Decreased CoQ10 levels in the body could mean your muscles have less energy, leading to muscle aches and pains. Pill number three was added.

LDL Cholesterol – Pre and Post Statin – Just Take the Drug!

My doctor and I spent quite a bit of time talking about health in general. In addition to meat, I reduced the amount of dairy in my diet as many people do. Cheese was practically a food group for me for decades, and I cut it back quite a bit. We also talked about sun exposure and increased chances of skin cancer. I started wearing hats more and didn’t spend as much time in the sun.

Perhaps it was no surprise at my next annual physical I showed a Vitamin D deficiency. My doctor suggested I add a vitamin D supplement to my regime. I countered, “We didn’t have this problem before cutting back on dairy and staying out of the sun. Perhaps I should eat more cheese, while working on my tan.” She smiled but I’m not quite sure she enjoyed my sense of humor. I dutifully added pill number 4, a chewable Vitamin D tablet.

After AFIB started, I went from a baby aspirin to a whole aspirin to, eventually, the blood thinner Eliquis. There’s a stroke history on my dad’s side of the family. He, along with an uncle and two of my cousins suffered strokes. When my younger sister, Tanya, had one a few years back, I told my cardiologist, who immediately said it was time to go on a blood thinner.

With the addition of Eliquis, I upped my morning intake to five different pills. I bought one of those neat little weekly pill box containers to dole out my daily stash. I chuckled a bit at that as well. Years ago on visits home, I remember rolling my eyes as mom dutifully filled her and dad’s pill boxes for the week.

Up to Five Pills Every Morning

Cardiologists and pill containers – yep, I am getting a wee bit older. As RiffRaff sings in Rocky Horror, “It’s astounding, time is fleeting…”.**

Maybe it’s not so much astounding as inevitable and we all know it. Still, you have to enjoy the trip and occasionally chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Addendum:

Making Espresso

Making Espresso

When we returned from Germany in ‘83 there were many things we missed from our 4 1/2 years in Europe. One of those items was coffee. Good Coffee. Cathy rectified that by buying me a small Espresso/Cappuccino Maker for Christmas that year. 40 years later, it still brews decent coffee, even if it looks old and outdated.

We were happy to return to the States, but in addition to good coffee, there were a number of things we missed from our time overseas, including good bier and cheese. The craft bier movement wouldn’t really hit its stride in the US until the ‘90s. As a result, Michelob or Heileman’s Special Export were what passed for top-shelf domestic beer at the time. The cheese market in the states consisted of American, Swiss and Cheddar once you were outside of Wisconsin or a couple of places in New York and Northern California. That too would change, but in the early ‘80s, it was a desert. Of course you could buy imported beer (back then, Lowenbrau or Heineken), or imported cheese, but there weren’t any real American products. I was further mystified to find the concept of a charcuterie board hadn’t reached the States – how was it possible something we routinely ate for lunch in a German Gasthaus didn’t even exist here?! And don’t get me started on wine…

Yes, I know this all sounds like an old man rant, and if I were saying it now, it would be. I was saying this in 1983, at the grand old age of 28.

Back to coffee. ;-).

Coffee in Germany and Europe was so much more than just a pot of brewed coffee. The Europeans made stronger coffee in general – not more bitter, just stronger and with great flavor. At the Gasthäuser (local restaurants) we visited, it was always made fresh – it wasn’t from a pot that was sitting for hours. In the afternoon, you could visit a Konditorei (the German word for a pâtisserie or confectionery shop) for a coffee and a sweet treat of some sort. The coffees varied from regular, to espresso, to cappuccino, to café au lait (coffee with a separate small pitcher of hot steamed and slightly frothed milk you added to your coffee). One of our great pleasures was sitting outside at a cafe in Berlin, or Paris, or Vienna, or Monte Carlo or any number of cities having a coffee, while watching the world pass by. I become nostalgic even today thinking about it.

There wasn’t the same type of coffee availability here in the States in ‘83. Starbucks started in Seattle in 1971, but didn’t really begin expanding until the late ‘80s. Although local coffee shops existed in some places, The “Local Coffee Shop” was an idea that hadn’t yet come into its own.

At the time, we were stationed in Dayton, Ohio. At a local mall, we discovered a shop that sold coffee beans. (I can’t remember if you could actually also buy a cup of coffee there or not.) In any case, we bought a grinder, and started grinding our own beans for our regular coffee pot at home and were able to make a stronger cup of coffee. We also bought espresso beans and used our Italian stovetop espresso maker (known as a Moka pot, it cost all of $6 when we bought it in Italy in ‘82 – I see they run $25 plus on Amazon now) to make a decent espresso. Half the problem was solved.

Our Old Moka Pot Also Still Works Well.

Cathy solved the other half of the problem that Christmas when she gave me an Espresso/Cappuccino maker. I was thrilled and started using it that very day. It became a fixture at our house and if you visited us in the ‘80s through the mid ‘90s, I practically forced a coffee on you

A Great Christmas Present in 1983!

Espressos? Sure. In addition, my after-dinner cappuccinos became a point of pride and were quite good, if I do say so myself. I’d add a capful of Cointreau for a sweetener and grind a little fresh nutmeg on the top of the foam. We also did Irish Cappuccinos. I think you know how I made those.

Somewhere along the way, other manufacturers started selling upscale Espresso machines of better quality. Now days, you can easily spend between $500 and $1,600 on a high-end espresso/coffee maker. Breville, Rancillo, Gaggia and others all make excellent machines … at a price. Over the years, I looked at a couple of them, but never pulled the trigger. We have a couple of friends who own them. One uses his religiously. Another found it more trouble than it was worth and it now sits on the counter, mostly unused. For my friends* that own super nice espresso machines and are real aficionados, good for you, and I’m happy for you. I’m sure you can probably make a better espresso than I can, and that’s OK.

Coffee shops are now ubiquitous here and these days you can’t trip without falling into one of them. They generally make great coffee. There are a few good local shops near us not named Starbucks, and I prefer those. If you ask, they’ll serve you your coffee in an actual coffee cup – not some crap paper cup.

Over time, I backed off using our little machine quite as much. Life was too busy, or I’d lost interest. And then, after retiring about a decade ago, I started using it more again. Usually, it’s in the afternoon and Cath and I feel the need for a little pick-me-up. I’ll make us cappuccinos and we take a break from life and sit and sip our coffees for ten or fifteen minutes. It’s a nice pause, especially on a winter day with fresh snow outside.

Yes, It Still Makes a Decent Cappuccino. Nutmeg and Cointreau are Optional.

Yes, over the last forty years, we here in the States have caught up to Europe on bier, cheese, good everyday wine and even charcuterie boards. As for coffee, I’m guessing we have more coffee shops than Europe now days.

At home, I would bet we’ve gone through five or six regular coffee machines since 1983. They die every six or seven years. Our Maxim Espresso Machine? It’s a little banged up but works fine and keeps chugging along. How many forty-year-old machines do you have in your home you can say the same thing about?

Addendum:

  • * I do know there are lots of great espresso makers out there, and that those of you who have them can pull a better shot, with more crema than I can. I certainly mean no criticism of those machines and am, at least a little, envious of you. My point in this blog was about my machine being 40 years old, and there’s not much that lasts that long anymore. Still, it’s interesting. In Italy, rather than buying an elaborate espresso machine, over 3/4 of the country still uses their stove-top espresso machine (Moka pots) everyday for their first cup of coffee. You can read more about the Moka pot here: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moka_pot
  • The blue coffee cup with my name on it is a bit precious to me. It was a gift from our old friend Tim in ‘80 or ‘81. He bought it while visiting us in Germany and gave it as a gift. Tim passed away last December.

Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day

I’m one of those guys who, although not always in a timely fashion, notices milestones in my life. It turns out this Valentine’s Day is the 51st Cathy and I have shared. Yea, our first was in 1973, when we were both students at Ottawa High School.

Cath and I in the OHS Yearbook for ‘73

At the time, we had been dating for about eight months. I have no memory of what we did on that momentous occasion. Cathy doesn’t either. 🙂

At Homecoming Dance, a few Months Before our First Valentine’s Day.

When I was at West Point, with Cathy in DC, we were always apart and sent letters or cards to each other for the big day. (You remember letters don’t you?) Later in the ‘80s during our tours of duty in Germany with the Army, I’m sure we were separate on at least half of those Valentine’s Day, with me deployed on maneuvers or Temporary Duty somewhere. We probably enjoyed a celebratory dinner after I returned home, but again, I don’t remember.

It’s only since the ‘90s and civilian life that I think we’ve regularly celebrated Valentine’s Day. I know we did trips away or dinners out at nice restaurants several times. Later, we became tired of the rush and crowding of restaurants and celebrated more at home. A nice dinner – steaks, or a special pasta dish, or maybe a cheese and charcuterie board with champagne in front of the fireplace. Sometimes there were gifts, sometimes not.

I was thinking about our past celebrations, as I’ve seen ads in the lead-up to Valentine’s Day this year – Godiva or Ferrero Rocher chocolates; flower delivery services; special cards from Hallmark; sexy underwear; and of course, jewelry, including Kay’s and Pandora. The New York Times even ran an article about “The 31 best Valentine’s Day gifts for her”. One of the “great” things about America is we always find a way to make a buck off of anything.

More Suggestions of Chocolate, Underwear, Flowers and Fake Flowers.

I took a further trip down memory lane and reread our wedding vows. We had dutifully recited, as many couples do, “For better, for worse; For richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; … as long as we both shall live…” I also reread what Reverend Fred Fullerton*, my high school classmate and the minister at our wedding, asked for in prayer concerning our marriage: “strengthen and deepen it through time… steady it by toil… crown it with greatness through self-discipline… purify it in the crucible of our inevitable human pain…”

Fred’s Thoughtful Prayer for our Marriage and Life Together.

We’ve certainly seen for better and worse, trying financial times and our fair share of sickness. I like to think our love has strengthened and deepened over time and we have constantly worked at our marriage over our years together. Challenges and pain have happened, as they inevitably do. As is always the case, how we respond to those challenges is more important than the challenge itself.

In the past year, we’ve had constant reminders of both the joy and the fragility of life. We have celebrated good times with family and friends. We’ve also witnessed deaths with some of those same friends and family members. We’ve confronted new injuries and diseases, both our own and other folk’s. Lately, our lives seem to be on one of those roller coasters all of us occasionally experience.

51 years. Cripes, that’s over half a century. We still enjoy celebrating Valentine’s Day and I think have learned to take nothing in life for granted. This year, we are staying home and will keep it simple – Steak Diane and a nice red wine. We’ll celebrate our past. And then, we’ll clink our glasses and toast our future together for as long as we both shall live.

I love you hon….

Addendum:

  • Reverend Fred Fullerton was my good friend and high school classmate in the OHS class of ‘73. He was also our class president. He became a minister in the Nazarene Church. We are very proud to have been the first marriage service he preformed.

Mooseburgers

Mooseburgers

The last time I saw Tim, I was back in Ottawa for my Brother-in-Law Jack’s funeral. I didn’t know it would be the last time, although I suspected it might. Mark, Howard and I were invited to Tim and Renee’s home for a lunch of Mooseburgers, with Tim serving as grill master.

Cath and I had visited Tim and Renee a few weeks before, while in Ottawa for my 50th high school reunion. After flying into Chicago, we stopped by and spent a few hours at their place in St Charles. It was good to catch up. They were supposed to make the reunion as well, but couldn’t. At the time, Tim was a 4+ year pancreatic cancer survivor, but things were going downhill the last couple of months prior to the reunion.

When Jack died of brain cancer a couple of weeks later, I returned for his services and to see my sister Roberta. I called Tim and Renee to see if we might get together, and I think Tim came up with the idea of the group lunch. Old buddies, Mark and Howard were invited and both quickly said yes. The five of us met on the 14th of October.

Tim, Howard and I have known each other since before kindergarten. Mark came on the scene around 5th grade and we have all been buddies ever since. As to Renee, Tim and Renee met through Cath and I in the early ‘90s. What started as friendship turned into love, and they married.

Tim and Renee’s Wedding.

The lunch was a good time. Renee made some wonderful appetizers and our conversations were wide-ranging. Yes, we talked about Tim’s cancer, but we also talked about the Bears and the White Sox, and as is inevitable when together, retold stories from our youth and good times together over the years.

After a while, Tim shuffled out to the grill and cooked the Mooseburgers. They’d brought the ground moose back last summer from their annual vacation to their place in Maine. I believe a cousin shot the moose and gave them some of the burger. Renee let us know that although he was weaker, Tim insisted on cooking. The burgers were great, and cooked perfectly. There was more talk and Tim, his voice somewhat raspy, eventually grew tired. It was time to go. We hugged Renee, fist-bumped Tim and said our goodbyes and “I love you’s”. Mark drove north to Wisconsin, while Howard and I headed south. It was the last time all of us were together.

Mooseburgers

Tim and I continued to text almost daily after that. The last one from him was on November 8th, when he congratulated me on the Virginia election results. After that, the link went silent. Cath and I stayed in contact with Renee and others, and knew Tim’s condition was worsening. Late on the night of December 4th, Renee called and let us know Tim passed away. After talking a while longer, I sent our love her way and hung up the phone. I silently cried dry tears.

I’ve known Tim for about 65 of my 68 years. Tim…June…Junebug… There are so many stories. Although I know there are groans in some quarters when we re-tell them for the 1,000th time, they still bring a smile to my face. In my mind, rather than a film, I see thousands of snapshots of our times together. The number of actual photos is more limited. Unlike now, back in the day we didn’t have the technology, or the desire, to capture everything going on. I think our lives are a little richer for that.

The “snapshots” of those times blur together. Some of the memories are blurry as well, while others are crystal clear. They span two continents, several states and seven decades.

I can turn the kaleidoscope of those decades in my mind and several pictures emerge – earning my God And Country Scout award in ‘68 with Tim and Howard; Tim, Howard and Mark serving as groomsmen for Cathy’s and my wedding in ‘78; multiple visits by Tim and Howard to our home in Germany in the ‘80s; introducing Tim and Renee in the ‘90s and then they married; ski trips to West Virginia in the ‘90s and 2000s with Tim never leaving the cabin; wonderful Bordeaux Dinners at Tim and Renee’s home near Chicago in the 201Xs; all four couples together at Camp Kishauwa in ‘22.

Tim, Howard and I Receiving our God and Country Awards.

I turn the kaleidoscope a second time and different pictures emerge – in the 60s, Tim and I in Boy Scouts sharing a tent at Camp Kishauwa; the Ottawa Gluttons eating team at OHS in ‘73; shipping a keg of bier from Germany to Tim in Chicago in ‘86; visiting Tim and Howard at their iconic Chicago apartment on numerous occasions in the ‘90s; New Year’s Eve dinners at the farm with Tim and Renee in ‘99 and the 2000s; Cath and I visiting Tim and Renee’s beloved Maine for a vacation; endlessly talking and texting about politics and history during Covid.

At Howard and Tim’s Apartment in Chicago in the Early ‘90s.

I rotate the kaleidoscope again and more memories race through my mind – Mrs Finkeldye’s first grade class; drinking biers at the Butler’s House in our high school years; church youth fellowship; Tim saving me from the MPs in Germany; Tim sleeping on the couch with our dog, Top; Tim and Renee with Cath and I skinny dipping in Lost River; Tim and Renee at the Hash; Tim, Howard, Mark and I decades ago on a New Year’s Eve at 3AM in a picture forever frozen in time – all of us young, with our whole lives in front of us…

New Year’s Eve 1978.

There were no photos taken of us at the Mooseburger lunch. We didn’t need or want any. What I’ll remember is the fellowship and love of old friends spending a few hours together. I’ll always remember that lunch. Always. The memory of it will spark a kaleidoscope of images – an endless stream of snapshots in an infinite number of combinations.

Rest in peace Tim. I love you.

Addendum:

Here are some previous blogs featuring Tim: