Bookish

Usually I don't participate in the latest quirky participation game, quiz, or list passed around on the Internet or email, but since I'm a great believer in books I'm taking the cue from Tim Blair and passing this one on.

Here are the instructions:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

Here's mine and believe it or not....when I opened my book, it fell open directly to page 23, strange.

"What do you mean, 'probable'?, Lovell asked, "did they survive or didn't they survive?"

This page 23, 5th sentence quote is from "Lost Moon, My Perilous Voyage on Apollo 13" by Jim Lovell and Jeffrey Kluge. A reference book that was sitting on my desk, a remnent of Jack's school history project on that subject. We'll be looking forward to reading yours.

The death of Oldsmobile....

I read today that the final days had come for Oldsmobile Americas oldest car company, a significant American brand, in business since 1897 and a part of General Motors since 1908. Sad it is and also a lesson in letting a brand with a huge and loyal customer base just slip away.

Back in the good old days of my youth getting an Oldsmobile meant you had moved up a notch in the social and economic conundrum. Until I was 16 we had been a two Chevy family...sedan and station wagon. But with one son headed to college and another soon to go, my Dad decided that with business going well, the lady of the house deserved a better means of transportation than the usual Chevy Bel Aire wagon. She got a nicely fitted out 1967 Cutlass Supreme. And it was nice inside and out, a fairly luxurious med-sized sedan with a big V-8, power windows [a real extra in those days] and well built. Though a family car it was fun to drive...not that I got the opportunity much, it was to nice a car for a teenager, or so the theory went.

After I was on my own, out of the Army and had run through my sports car craze [MGA, Triumph Tr-6, Corvette, Porsche] the first "regular car" I owned in Dallas was an Oldsmobile Cutlass. A beautiful 1976 Black on Black Coupe that was a joy to drive. However, having been gone from Texas for years, I forget that one never wants to own a completely black car here, thus the reason for the sale of the car within a year and a half...and the fact that I found another Corvette.

It was shortly after this period, in my opinion, that Oldsmobile started it's slide to obscurity. The cars started to have a cheap feeling about them and new exciting design was non-existant. They became the classic econoboxes of the late 70s and early 80's. They became the ride of choice for Grandma and Grandpa on a retirees budget. In truth, almost the entire American auto industry fell into this glum depression, but most car makers eventually recovered and starting making models that had, in some form, an air of glamour to them. Cars that young drivers could identify with, which like it or not, is what makes auto lines popular. I can't think of one exciting, glamorous or snob appeal car that Olds has made in the last three decades. And there apparently was no major attempt to revive the brand, no glitz machines, no sexy advertisements, no appeal to snobbery. Oldsmobile had just become the national generic plain vanilla car. No small wonder that the official reason cited for the end of production was lack of sales. Sizzle sells and the fire under Oldsmobile died years ago. To bad.

Step-Dadhood.....

Track [Jack at left] and History Project

It's been a busy week for a kinda' new Step-Dad. Full of baseball, track and history fair projects. Not complaining here.....really love doing it, but they seemed all to come at once. In fact they did.

Baseball: Jack is an above average little league player and gets his chance to show it and improve with a practice every week, and this week four games within 6 days. He goes to the game at about 5:30, we show up for the game by 6:00 and don't get home until 8:00. He pushes through with his homework and sometimes his chore of "pooper scooping" before the game, so by the time we get home it's time for him to shower up and think about bed time.

Track: Jack's school participated in the Christian Schools track meet this last Saturday. A meet of all the private schools in the area. They worked hard and we fit track practice in once a week, wedged into the baseball schedule. The meet was great fun. I'm glad we had a good time [we really did!] because Jack had to report to Ratliff Stadium in Odessa at Zero Early Thirty, 7:30, in the morning and we didn't get home, sunburned and tired, till around 6:00 that evening. It was a good time watching the kids run, spending the afternoon with one of my partners who also had a daughter in the meet, and later in the day, betting on the runners with Paul and my Father-in-Law Don. [not real money....this was a Christian track meet]. Jack did well, winning his 50 yd. dash prelims but losing in the finals. I got to have my first "losing is OK" talk with him, and explaining that not all of us have "fast twitch muscles" like the Neboh kids who won everything. Genetics is important. Their mother is from Kenya and was an Olympic medalist in the hurdles.

History Project: The St. Ann's School history fair was this week. Next year we won't wait till the last day to complete the project. I got to have my first "sports is good, but school comes first" talk with Jack about this. Jack chose the Apollo 13 story as his topic and had done some bit of preliminary work, getting his story board planned out and then emailing my brother who is a Deputy Director at NASA for some web based resources. But the actual construction, printing of pictures and some research was left to the Mom and Me. It looks good, Jack is proud of it, and we got to have an entire Sunday afternoon and on into evening bit of family time.

And tonight, well tonight we get to have our first homecooked, sit down actual familly dinner together in weeks. We get to review Jack's school work and rest. We'll need it.....there's a baseball game coming up soon.

Ranger Tillman....

Pat Tillman gave up a $3.6 million dollar contract as the starting safety with the Phoenix Cardinals to serve his country. Pat was killed in an ambush Thursday while serving with the 75th Rangers in Afghanistan. His coach Dave McGinnis said he felt both overwhelming sorrow and tremendous pride in Tillman, who "represented all that was good in sports."

No coach, that's not quite right. Pat represented all that's good in America. Maybe that's why he left professional sports. And perhaps his death will serve as a reminder that there are some things more important than who wins the Superbowl, or the NBA Championship or the money that come with these. They are called life and liberty.

Julie Moore....

Julie Moore died Sunday at the age of 75. Julie was the wife of Gen. Hal Moore who commanded the 1/7th Cavalry at the battle at LZ Xray in Vietnam. A battle immortalized in the film We Were Soldiers. Mel Gibson played the part of then, LTC. Moore and with almost equal film time the part of Julie was aptly played by Madeleine Stowe. This was a good thing, because Mrs. Moores role in real life was equally as important as her husbands.

I met Mrs. Moore for the first time in November of 2001 at the Washington D.C. reunion of those who survived the battles in the Ia Drang. I introduced myself as a good friend of We Were Soldiers author and correspondent Joe Galloway and was surprised to hear her say that she knew of me and then she proceeded to relate several things about my life that Joe had apparently told her. She was one of those persons whom you instantly feel you've known for a very long time. The photo above was taken on that occasion with my friend Bruce Crandall, who was played by Greg Kinnear in the film.

Over the last three years I saw Mrs. Moore again once and talked to her twice on the telephone during times I had occasion to call Gen. Moore. I'm still humbled that in those times she treated me as a friend of long standing and asked me about current situtions in my life, how my family was and sent a personal note wishing "my" Julie and me the best in our then upcoming marriage. I can see how all those who served under Gen. Moore in Vietnam idolize her, they way they do her husband. And I feel anguish for Gen. Moore, her surviving children and people like Joe Galloway to whom she was more than just a close personal friend, she was a guiding star in their lives.

I won't say anymore, Joe has expressed the feelings of many in his newspaper column. There will never be another Julie Moore. Julie Moore, by Joe Galloway

Chaparral Racing....A tribute

Some things don't change. Like a newly licensed teenaged boy's interest in cars. Fast Cars. For me and my friends, when we starting driving at age 14, those cars were Chaparrals. For two reasons. First, they had just burst upon the racing scene and they were winning. Secondly, they were built right here in our smallish hometown by a young, good looking bon vivant named Jim Hall. Frankly, some of our friends were more interested in hot rods, suped up jalopies and drag racing. This group would later become fans of "The Dukes of Hazzard" and NASCAR. We were interested in sports car racing. We would later become international sophisticates. In the then newly released 007 films, James Bond drove sports cars. That's where we wanted to be.

In those pre-media madness days we followed Chaparrals around the world the best we could by reading Road and Track, Sports Illustrated or by the mention in our local newspaper. We had Chaparral models, Chaparral slot cars, Chaparral posters and pasted Chaparral logos, when we could find them, on our car bumpers. On the occasions that we saw Jim Hall around town he was considered more of a luminary than any Hollywood movie star. We wanted to be like him.

And so this weekend I have been in heaven. It has been a weekend long occasion to honor Jim Hall, his cars and his place in racing and automotive history. Jim's engineering of the Chaparrals was revolutionary at the time, but so effective that it is common place today. Among these are his use of aerodynamics and his development of composite fiber bodies. The model "2J" was so effective it was banned from racing due to complaints from the competition.

Jims vision and achievements are finally getting the honor they are due from his hometown. The newly built Chaparral Gallery at our Petroleum Museum will tell the story of Chaparrals engineering marvels, racing achievements and house all of Jim Halls cars. A wise man, Jim kept all his machines together, housed in the shops where they were built south of town, functional and sparse. The new Gallery is anything but that. It is a magnificent place where frankly I had expected less. And the weekend celebration has been as equally stirring. And as noted by a fellow local Blog correspondent, the cars will be maintained in running order so these great machines will not be allowed to become just static pieces of art.

On Friday I had the good fortune to be seated in the front row, directly in front of Jim, at an afternoon forum discussing the Chaparral's history and significance. The panel consisted of almost every driver who piloted a Chaparral including luminaries like former world driving champion Phil Hill and the current Indy 500 champion, Gil de Ferren. Vic Elford was a star on the Porsche factory team when he accepted an offer to drive the Chaparral 2J, where he blew the competition away until the car was banned. Franz Weiz built engines for Chaparral from almost the very start and on through the Indy car team. He is still in Midland building Indy Series and Formula I engines to this day. He's a genius. The surprise of the day was the appearance of an unannounced panelist, the racing super legend and Jim's old competitor and good friend, Dan Gurney.

Saturday was a day aimed at acquainting the general public with the Chaparral story, and so I took Julie to see the cars and look around. And look around she did, getting excited about a Shelby Cobra that my friends at Panoz Racing had for sale, and with that in mind signing up for the Panoz Racing School at the Texas Motor Speedway. We're thinking September. We also had the opportunity to have a final chat with Vic Elford, a jovial Brit who has lived in the U.S. for the last three decades.

The whole weekend was special for me, but two occasions stand out. One was being able to walk through the exhibit after the forum concluded and chat with Gil de Ferren, his wife and two children. I had followed Gil's career from the time he signed on with the Chaparral Indy car team until he retired last year after winning at Indy. I was able to ask him questions about several races and to make the comment that I thought that he was the best road course driver on the Indy circuit and one of the most unlucky. He agreed. A nice, smart, likeable guy and a devoted family man.

My second, and the most memorable, event occured this morning at the old Chaparral garage complex south of town. I, along with about 20 others, was able to stand not 10 feet away from Jim Hall as he climbed into a Chaparral racer for the last time and drove it out to it's permanent place of retirement. I hope you might take the time to look at a few photos from this memorable experience, and watch a short video clip I shot of Jim driving out of the garage. It's a piece of history. View the photos at: Chaparral Gallery Opening

The War....

"We're a nation at war, and every day we read about the deaths of young Americans like Henry T. Waskow. We're at war but it hardly interrupts our lives. No one demands sacrifice of us.

In Henry Waskow's America, there were scrap metal drives and war bond drives and Victory Gardens, and food and fuel rationing. There was a draft that took 15 million American men into uniform and sent them into harm's way. Women took their places on the factory floors. Everyone had a part to play.

In the strange wars we're fighting today, only one thing seems certain: Until everyone begins paying attention to the wars, and to the threat that global terrorism poses to our way of life, and until all of us begin making some small contributions, we cannot hope for victory."

Thus writes Joe Galloway in his latest column. As you will read, Capt. Waskow died in Italy during WWII and his death was chronicled by the great story teller of the War, Ernie Pyle. This story has always had special significance for me because decades later, after my Regular Army service, I commanded the same company, "B" Company, 1st Bn. 143rd Infantry of the 36th Division, the Texas National Guard. Part of the 36th Airborne Brigade when I had it.

Sentimental connection not withstanding, I could not agree with Joe more on the importance of his message. With the news media full of finger pointers, the BlogWaves full of sites pro and con, the impassioned arguments for and against this and that concerning the "war" on terrorism....the tone and activity of daily life in America has not changed one iota. Whether one is for or against the actions in Afghanistan and Iraq, life for the average person has not been affected. While the troops in those theaters live daily in mortal fear for their lives, our biggest concerns at home revolve around complaining about the price of gasoline for our new SUV or trying to decide what new high tech digital device to buy.

Perhaps the Islamists are right in assuming that our own decadence and apathy will consume us.

This and That.....

9/11 Commission: not that we watch that much TeeVee network news, but now we've about given up on watching any at all. The blather coming from the TV set is too much. From Democratic Senators, Congressmen, "victims" and newsmen. The tone has been of "what did the Bush Administration do wrong, withhold or lie about". Someone to blame instead of finding things to fix. If the purpose of the commission is to assign blame, then the facts are exceeding clear on that point. Dubya and his folks had only been in office for 9 months prior to 9/11. Bill Clinton was in office for 8 years prior, during which time mayhem was perpetrated against the US at the World Trade Center I, the US Embassy in Africa, the USS Cole and Kobar Towers. What did Clinton do? Treat it as a crime, point his finger in the air and promise to bring those responsible to justice, fire a missile at the Afghani desert. Might someone on the commission focus on the failure of that administration to do anything decisive about the problem that was obviously brewing.

Voice from Iraq: Weak hearts who do listen to the major media may be wondering if the cost is worth the effort in Iraq. Perhaps we should listen to more Iraqis like Mohammed who is there.

"And I don’t care what those ‘political experts’ on the newspapers and TV channels, say about the ‘occupation’, deteriorated security and ‘unemployment’. You can’t understand this, because you never experienced real fear this long. Let me tell you about it, as I’m one of those who passed Saddam’s filthy test of life.The statue fell and with it, horror fell. You don’t know what it means to be scared to death most of your life, brothers and sisters. I knew that and I faced it during the reign of evil and darkness. I was afraid to talk, I wasn't allowed to think and I wasn't allowed to feel…I wasn't allowed to love. .......Yes, it’s the 9th of April. I lit the 1st candle today to celebrate my 1st year, as a free man and no one will prevent me from celebrating."

Spring has sprung....Spring srang very early this year and consequently so did my tasks around the well groomed grounds of the estate. Well groomed because I toil like a Trojan this time of year. Today it was the mowing, edging etc., tomorrow I'll be digging up two dead Youpon Holly trees and replacing them along with 8 more Indian Hawthornes. It's work, but I have to say that with the toil and the recent rains, the backyard and tasteful mexican brick patio have never looked better.

Another sad passing.....

Emmy Award winner Jack Smith has died at the age of 58 after a bout with cancer. Many people recognize Jack from his years as an ABC News TV correspondent, where he covered strife all over the world and more recently as that networks technology reporter. He was the son of legendary broadcaster Howard K. Smith. By all accounts Jack had a stellar career in journalism.

But many of us who knew him, or knew of him, count his exploits and survival in the Ia Drang Valley in 1965 as the true measure of the man. I wouldn't say that I knew him, but I had met him, chatted with him, and took the photo above at the Ia Drang survivors reunion in 2001. Despite his illness, Jack was the featured speaker at this years reunion just last November. He wanted to be with the people he treasured the most one last time. Jack is on the left with his old comrade Bud Alley. Jack was a soft spoken, calm and thoughtful man which belied the terrible violence he had endured.

For those who saw the Mel Gibson film, We Were Soldiers, the movie action in the Ia Drang in November 1965 ended with the 1/7th Cavalry being airlifted out after their 3 day struggle to survive. What is not shown, but reported in detail in Joe Galloway's book "We Were Soldiers Once and Young", is what happened to the 2/7th Cavalry and other units that came to the rescue of the encircled 1st Battalion. Ordered to march several miles to another helicopter landing zone named LZ Albany, these units were caught in a fearsome ambush that resulted in some of the heaviest casualties of the war. Some platoons were virtually wiped out. Jack, while pretending to be dead had a North Vietnamese soldier use his back to support a machine gun while firing at American soldiers, was wounded by an American grenade fired at the machine gunner and then survived the night listening to the enemy shoot his wounded comrades only yards away. Jack's piece for The Saturday Evening Post magazine Death in the Ia Drang Valley [scroll down] is one of the best, most terrifying, riveting and personal accounts of the Vietnam War ever written. I hope that you will take the time to read the article. Without a doubt it proves Gen. Shermans comment that is often misquoted as simply..."War is Hell".

Jack was a very close friend of some of my good friends, and I had hoped that my path in this life would cross his again. This is not to be, but the memory and legacy of his life will be celebrated and remembered by a great many people.

Our First......

The rainstorms that drenched Midland all weekend had not let up Monday morning. The sky was heavy and thunderstorms in the forecast all day.

Sylvia Munoz has just finished writing a card to her son, Robert, who is stationed in Iraq. She's watching television alone when a story on the news catches her attention.

She hears the words Sadr City, Iraq. The name grabs her ear. The Shiite-majority neighborhood in recent days has been torn by some of the most severe violence it has witnessed since it fell to Americans a year ago.

Eight U.S. soldiers died in the conflict, she hears.

"Something made me feel weird about it," she said.

So she next calls her son Gilbert, who recently returned from Iraq himself. She asks Gilbert to look up some information on the Internet.

As she hangs up, she sees two men pull up to her driveway. They were military officials delivering the worst news, not that they had to say a word.

"I knew what they were going to tell me."

And so I learned from The Midland Reporter-Telegram early this morning that the first soldier from Midland had been killed in Iraq. Robert Arsiaga was actually from Greenwood, a rural community once, that now in most ways is really a suburb of the City of Midland. His sister is also in the Army, while his two brothers are Marines, one, as stated above, having recently returned from Iraq. To quote a book, or perhaps a movie in my memory......."Where do we get such people?"

First Lady, Laura Bush was in town visiting her Mother, and made a point to visit Mrs. Munoz at her home. About all I can add is that my heart is heavy with grief and sadness for Roberts family. My heart having been through this before with comrades, personal friends and loved ones some 30+ years before in another time and place.

And then the rains came.....

What a weekend! Friday, the Mrs. and I stepped out for a couple of hours for Jack's Little League opener [he won]. When we stepped back in we almost stepped on, well the mess a sick dog makes when he can't get out into the backyard. Not able to hold it any longer his canine bowels just let go right on the living room floor. Sparing you the details of the mess, I'll just say that the smell was overpowering and it took almost an hour to clean it up. We'll be calling our carpet cleaners on Monday.

Saturday I engaged in manual labor, digging up 10 sickly shrubs and replacing them with new Indian Hawthorne. Lovely. And then the rains came. In West Texas it either makes an attempt to spit a few drops of rain, or it vomits copious quantities. This was the later. A few stray thunderstorms around 10 p.m. and then the main event starting at 4 a.m. Hard rain for four straight hours. This is always a welcome event as, for some reason, rain water makes the lawn grow 100% faster than using city water. But for the past year the joy of heavy rains at the Bedford Dr. estate have been tempered with dread. We have a roof leak. Well, actually, several now. Luckily, before retiring, we had set out our strategically placed bowls and towels. Unluckily, upon arising they were full and overflowing. So for most of the morning we cleaned, mopped and dried out the pantry in the laundry room and other damp spots.

The only humor in the situation resulted in the photo above. Through the deluge we could see a figure across the street, doing what in the downpour? Well, fertilizing the lawn of course. I'm not making fun of our friend Matt, had I not done my yard already I would have probably been out doing the same thing. [note the waves from the flooded street about to break over the sidewalk!]. More rain is expected tonight......and thunderstorms all week.

[Roofing note: lest we appear completely ignorant/indigent, we did have a roofer out to look at repairs three weeks ago. I'm still waiting on the quote....they appear to be three weeks late]