People can turn themselves on.
It's a capability. We all have and typically, it is misinterpreted as, "God". Before that, it was merely, "Heaven". Before that, it was "up there". And it all came of the darkness.
But all you have to do, to do it, is, to do it. Think about the Heavens, about a God image, about some "power" above you, out there. And voila, there it is. But it doesn't have to be about religion, or God. It can also be evoked through self actualization, or simply accepting a connection to a force outside of yourself.
Why, you ask? Or, more appropriately, how is this the case?
You see, when we were once all monkeys. Okay, okay, maybe YOU were never a monkey, but evidence looks pretty good that we have descended from some species other than Homo Sapiens. Homo Sapiens came from Hominids. Before that we came from a species that we branched off from, as did the African apes, like gorillas and chimpanzees. But basically, we started up in trees. Theory has it, we came down into the tundra, then went back up into the trees and finally came back down and stayed down. Then we lived in what we could find, holes in the ground, caves, and eventually made dwellings that were temporary, then more permanent.
But when we hung around the trees, should we be in danger, we know instinctively that if we went to a tree, then we were safe. If something followed us up off the safe ground into the trees, in extraordinary circumstances, we would climb higher. In so doing, genetically speaking, we began to learn that up is good. Up, is Life. Up, is "Heaven".
If we were saved by climbing to the smaller branches up so high where we are safe because the heavier, predators could not follow, then later, when we are below, if we happened to look up, we would quite easily see that, simply put, UP is Good. It was indeed, Life. In many ways, it was, Heaven. It was not so much a name as a concept, an unspoken, undeclared thought that was burned into her genetic memory, if you will. If you will not, then I can't help you with that. But if not, just as a shorthand, let's go with that.
At some point, we also gave the name "Heavens" to what is simply, far up, high above, as above as you can get. Up there, especially at night, or during the day considering the sun, the clouds, other imagined considerations came to be. Eventually, the two Heaven concepts merged. Spoken language emerged. Two thought concepts because two spoken concepts.
People then tried to share that, to have others "feel the light" to experience, Heaven.
It got a bit messy for a variety of reasons. There were different cultural reasons, geographical ones, mutation issues. There were differences biologically, environmentally, socially. One group therefore viewed the same thing as slightly different. When the two shall meet, awkwardness reared its ugly head.
And so to simplify things, they made rules to govern that,
Eventually, written language came to be and they wrote books to share these things, some which became holy texts for an obvious reason. In the beginning all writings, all books, were considered to some degree to be holy. Numbers, commerce became holy of a sort as it lead to an indirect correlation to food, subsistence and survival. At this point, too much had become holy. There was a cut back. Some didn't like that. And so there was bloodshed.
But in the end, there was a whittling down of what was holy. Some stuck to their beliefs and either died out or came to power. Over time, it was forgotten how we came to believe some of the things we believed. Later, it was considered ill mannered to question these things. At some point, it became sacrilege even.
In a world the size of ours, with the geographical barriers we have to deal with, some groups were cut off from others for a great long time, so that when they ever at some point, came to know of one another, beliefs had changed so much that they were unrecognizable to one another. It was ill mannered, and quickly, sacrilege, and that of course, means death, dismemberment, even cannibalism.
But time passed and we became more "civilized". Still, we didn't let go of some of our ancient thoughts and this lead to yet more difficulties. And so we killed some more. Some learned that you don't kill others who see things differently. We learned that those who see things differently, can actually aide you in your search for luxuries of ease of life and even enlightenment. But not everyone ever, grows up at the same speed.
And so some, languished in holding on to their ancient beliefs.
And a few began to realize that some of what was considered just the way it is, is the way it is, because it was the way it was, and no longer should be. But they were the few. It was sad for them. But the many tried in many ways to crush the few.
Still, it takes time for change and the more functional and actual to come to be once one has been bred int darkness, originally. For the light to shine in, one must let go of long held beliefs that one grew up from childhood to think, is simply the way things are, how they have always been, and why shouldn't they continue to be that way?
So now, when one looks around, this is what we see all around us.
It is time, you know, to start to make decisions based upon what you can see, what is reasonable, and is born of what you know now, and not what your vastly ancient ancestors knew then. And that is the beginning of the road to enlightenment.
Simply put, to try to see the light, and to stop seeing what was born of the dark.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Cracking the safe at Tower Records Mercer in Seattle
Here's another fun one.
Years ago I worked at Tower Video in Tacoma, about 1985.
I transferred up to the Video store in Seattle about 1986, which is another story in itself. Once I got to Seattle, it took a while to again get keys, to be a supervisor. Aside from being a floor supervisor, dealing with all the tough issues the employees can't handle or when someone says, I want to see the Manager, or whatever the employees just didn't want to deal with, it includes counting out your employees when they are through with their cash register shift. First you have the next employee count out a new till from the safe, then you swap them out on the register and take the employee getting off a register shift to the "count out room" where the safe is.
The safe at the Seattle Store had twin dials. The one above is similar, but the dial was smaller and black, lower, and there were two dials. The Tacoma safe only had one dial. I found this out the first time I had to swap register shifts as a supervisor in Seattle. So I get the person going on the next register shift, we enter the locked count out room and I go to the safe. Actually, being a smallish room, I closed the door, took one step back and to the left and knelt down. The safe was about a three foot cube of tempered dark gray steel and located on the linoleum over the concrete floor.
So I'm down on my knee and I notice for the first time that there are two, not one dial. Not realizing there could possibly be an issue if I spun the wrong one first, I spin the dial on the right side of the safe first. 50/50 chance at being correct. I chose the right one, maybe, because I'm right handed? But, I couldn't get it to open. So, I try the left dial. No joy, no open.
I step out of the room and find the first other supervisor walking by for some assistance. I can't remember who it was now, but as they tried to open the safe, I think I asked them why they were using the left dial.
They said it was because you really didn't want to use the other dial. Starting to feel a bit concerned, I asked why? He replied that it was not a good idea because we didn't have a combination for that dial. No one uses that dial. To use that dial is to permanently lock the safe forever. So, whatever you do, don't use that dial.
So I said, "Really. You have to be kidding."
He said, "Why?" Then he said, "You didn't spin that dial, did you?"
Of course I said, "Well, yeah, how would I know?"
Then he said, "Didn't anyone tell you not to do that... under any circumstances?"
I said, "Well, no. No one did, and don't you think that was kind of important for someone to tell me about that?"
He said something then that I'll just skip over, and then he went out and got the Manager who wasn't, shall we say, very happy about it.
The Manager said, "Didn't you see the note?"
I said, "No. There wasn't one." As we had gathered a small supervisor crowd by that point, someone said, "That fell off a while back."
Then he said, "Well, didn't you notice it was taped so the dial couldn't move?"
I said, "What? I didn't see any tape." So, I looked more closely at it and noticed that yes indeed, there was some yellowed scotch tape on it.
I said, "And you thought that Scotch tape would stop it from spinning? Duct tape maybe, but...." At that point I thought about something else. Which was that I was once a Parachute Rigger in the Air Force and I probably had stronger hands than most from years of packing parachutes. But I left that unsaid.
The Manager checked out the limp yellowed old Scotch tape hanging from the safe near the dial and said, "Yeah, good point."
In the end he was very understanding and nice about it and told me that I wasn't in trouble, and that it wasn't my fault. But he was going to have to call a locksmith ASAP to crack the safe open. We had not only the Video store registers to deal with but also the Record store and the Classical Record store which was a separated area and a store unto itself.
He also said that I would have to be the one who had to sit there the entire time with the Locksmith, as someone from the company would have to sit with an outsider because of all the money in the safe.
And so, I did. I had seen so many safes cracked in movies and on TV that I was fascinated at actually getting to watch someone professionally crack a safe. For real. No special effects, or nonsense.
The Locksmith arrived after about a half an hour and we ushered him into the room. He looked the safe over and discussed it with the Manager. It was made clear we needed it opened quickly and so he got to work.
I sat down to watch and ask questions whenever I could. First he said you had to use a special drill bit that cost a lot.
Then he said, "And it's easy to break one of these expensive bits doing this." He explained that the safe has a layer of hard steel, then of soft steel, then hard steel again. The theory was that the drilling will break the bit if you don't understand the structure of the safe, which he did, and even that didn't keep you from breaking a drill bit. He said the key was to drill through the hard part of steel, but be ready for when it pushes through to the soft layer because that will grab the bit and hang on to it while the drill keeps trying to drill and the torque is too much and it will snap the brittle but very hard steel of the drill bit.
Once you pierced the hard layer, you then have to immediately feel it break through, and stop, almost anticipating when you will break through. Which it seems, is almost impossible to do. He said that means that he will most likely break the first bit, and that usually he does on these safes, but not always, and he was hopeful that he could avoid breaking a another drill bit.
He drilled on the hard layer. Once in a while he would stop, anticipating breaking through, but it never did. Finally however, it did break through, but he wasn't prepared for it and the drill bit did indeed snap clean in half. I felt bad, for him, and for me, because I after all, I hadn't been forewarned about this safe but it still was all because of me.
He searched his toolbox for a second drill bit and got worried because he couldn't find one. If he didn't have one on him, he would have to go find one in town, either at his shop, or somewhere else. Any delay meant that more and more two hour register shifts would be messed up and the Manager wanted to resolve it ASAP.
Luckily, he found another bit, but only one more. So he swapped them out and began to continue drilling. About then the Manager unlocked the door to the small room we were in and asked how it was coming along. The Locksmith told him he was about half way there. The Manager smiled a bit of a grimace and left us to our devices.
Eventually the Locksmith got through the soft steel and then he started on another layer of hard steel. Finally, he punched all the way through. He then got out some smaller tools and started poking around inside the hole. He connected with whatever component he needed to manipulate after what seemed like forever, and slid the bolt open, finally accessing the interior of the safe. All together, it took him just over two hours.
I opened the door and asked someone to tell the Manager it was open now. A few minutes later he opened the door and you could see the relief. He spoke with the Locksmith and at one point, I asked if he couldn't completely disable the second dial so this doesn't happen again. The Manager agreed that yes, they hadn't had it disabled previously because they were trying to save money but it was obvious that was a mistake. The Locksmith agreed that if you wanted to save money and have it disabled, now is surely the time to do it.
And so, he did.
Second dial disabled, the Locksmith cleaned up, got the Manager's signature and left. I counted out the till with the next employee and we swapped out the employee who was still on the register, much to her relief. Then I counted that employee out until the register tape and the cash added up to exactly the same figures.
We always started the till with $100 in cash and change. At the end, we should see the profits/sales add up to the same amount of extra cash as was in the till. If there was too little, the employee was either stealing from the till, or wasn't very good at counting out money. Either way, they could be taken off register shifts and that could lead to their leaving the company. Strangely enough, finding there was too much money in the till seemed to point to employee theft more than too little money in the till, which was usually a clerical error by the employee.
Usually, if an employee had discrepancies, it wouldn't last long between their being-talked to and their being re-educated on the till, as well as closely observing them for a while. As I remember it, the till in question counted out perfectly, even with the extended length of that shift.
I can't say I miss working that kind of a job. It had it's moments though. There were always colorful characters on both sides of the counter, interspersed of course, with plenty of hours of absolutely nothing interesting. Sometimes things got interesting like a rock band lead singer jumping up and down on the counter, of a guy with a sword over his shoulder walking around, but that one day, will always be rather memorable for me. I thought it was pretty cool to get to watch a real professional safe cracking job, no Hollywood F/X, just cold, hard reality.
And by the way, I still have that broken drill bit.
Years ago I worked at Tower Video in Tacoma, about 1985.
I transferred up to the Video store in Seattle about 1986, which is another story in itself. Once I got to Seattle, it took a while to again get keys, to be a supervisor. Aside from being a floor supervisor, dealing with all the tough issues the employees can't handle or when someone says, I want to see the Manager, or whatever the employees just didn't want to deal with, it includes counting out your employees when they are through with their cash register shift. First you have the next employee count out a new till from the safe, then you swap them out on the register and take the employee getting off a register shift to the "count out room" where the safe is.
The safe at the Seattle Store had twin dials. The one above is similar, but the dial was smaller and black, lower, and there were two dials. The Tacoma safe only had one dial. I found this out the first time I had to swap register shifts as a supervisor in Seattle. So I get the person going on the next register shift, we enter the locked count out room and I go to the safe. Actually, being a smallish room, I closed the door, took one step back and to the left and knelt down. The safe was about a three foot cube of tempered dark gray steel and located on the linoleum over the concrete floor.
So I'm down on my knee and I notice for the first time that there are two, not one dial. Not realizing there could possibly be an issue if I spun the wrong one first, I spin the dial on the right side of the safe first. 50/50 chance at being correct. I chose the right one, maybe, because I'm right handed? But, I couldn't get it to open. So, I try the left dial. No joy, no open.
I step out of the room and find the first other supervisor walking by for some assistance. I can't remember who it was now, but as they tried to open the safe, I think I asked them why they were using the left dial.
They said it was because you really didn't want to use the other dial. Starting to feel a bit concerned, I asked why? He replied that it was not a good idea because we didn't have a combination for that dial. No one uses that dial. To use that dial is to permanently lock the safe forever. So, whatever you do, don't use that dial.
So I said, "Really. You have to be kidding."
He said, "Why?" Then he said, "You didn't spin that dial, did you?"
Of course I said, "Well, yeah, how would I know?"
Then he said, "Didn't anyone tell you not to do that... under any circumstances?"
I said, "Well, no. No one did, and don't you think that was kind of important for someone to tell me about that?"
He said something then that I'll just skip over, and then he went out and got the Manager who wasn't, shall we say, very happy about it.
The Manager said, "Didn't you see the note?"
I said, "No. There wasn't one." As we had gathered a small supervisor crowd by that point, someone said, "That fell off a while back."
Then he said, "Well, didn't you notice it was taped so the dial couldn't move?"
I said, "What? I didn't see any tape." So, I looked more closely at it and noticed that yes indeed, there was some yellowed scotch tape on it.
I said, "And you thought that Scotch tape would stop it from spinning? Duct tape maybe, but...." At that point I thought about something else. Which was that I was once a Parachute Rigger in the Air Force and I probably had stronger hands than most from years of packing parachutes. But I left that unsaid.
The Manager checked out the limp yellowed old Scotch tape hanging from the safe near the dial and said, "Yeah, good point."
In the end he was very understanding and nice about it and told me that I wasn't in trouble, and that it wasn't my fault. But he was going to have to call a locksmith ASAP to crack the safe open. We had not only the Video store registers to deal with but also the Record store and the Classical Record store which was a separated area and a store unto itself.
He also said that I would have to be the one who had to sit there the entire time with the Locksmith, as someone from the company would have to sit with an outsider because of all the money in the safe.
And so, I did. I had seen so many safes cracked in movies and on TV that I was fascinated at actually getting to watch someone professionally crack a safe. For real. No special effects, or nonsense.
The Locksmith arrived after about a half an hour and we ushered him into the room. He looked the safe over and discussed it with the Manager. It was made clear we needed it opened quickly and so he got to work.
I sat down to watch and ask questions whenever I could. First he said you had to use a special drill bit that cost a lot.
Then he said, "And it's easy to break one of these expensive bits doing this." He explained that the safe has a layer of hard steel, then of soft steel, then hard steel again. The theory was that the drilling will break the bit if you don't understand the structure of the safe, which he did, and even that didn't keep you from breaking a drill bit. He said the key was to drill through the hard part of steel, but be ready for when it pushes through to the soft layer because that will grab the bit and hang on to it while the drill keeps trying to drill and the torque is too much and it will snap the brittle but very hard steel of the drill bit.
Once you pierced the hard layer, you then have to immediately feel it break through, and stop, almost anticipating when you will break through. Which it seems, is almost impossible to do. He said that means that he will most likely break the first bit, and that usually he does on these safes, but not always, and he was hopeful that he could avoid breaking a another drill bit.
He drilled on the hard layer. Once in a while he would stop, anticipating breaking through, but it never did. Finally however, it did break through, but he wasn't prepared for it and the drill bit did indeed snap clean in half. I felt bad, for him, and for me, because I after all, I hadn't been forewarned about this safe but it still was all because of me.
He searched his toolbox for a second drill bit and got worried because he couldn't find one. If he didn't have one on him, he would have to go find one in town, either at his shop, or somewhere else. Any delay meant that more and more two hour register shifts would be messed up and the Manager wanted to resolve it ASAP.
Luckily, he found another bit, but only one more. So he swapped them out and began to continue drilling. About then the Manager unlocked the door to the small room we were in and asked how it was coming along. The Locksmith told him he was about half way there. The Manager smiled a bit of a grimace and left us to our devices.
Eventually the Locksmith got through the soft steel and then he started on another layer of hard steel. Finally, he punched all the way through. He then got out some smaller tools and started poking around inside the hole. He connected with whatever component he needed to manipulate after what seemed like forever, and slid the bolt open, finally accessing the interior of the safe. All together, it took him just over two hours.
I opened the door and asked someone to tell the Manager it was open now. A few minutes later he opened the door and you could see the relief. He spoke with the Locksmith and at one point, I asked if he couldn't completely disable the second dial so this doesn't happen again. The Manager agreed that yes, they hadn't had it disabled previously because they were trying to save money but it was obvious that was a mistake. The Locksmith agreed that if you wanted to save money and have it disabled, now is surely the time to do it.
And so, he did.
Second dial disabled, the Locksmith cleaned up, got the Manager's signature and left. I counted out the till with the next employee and we swapped out the employee who was still on the register, much to her relief. Then I counted that employee out until the register tape and the cash added up to exactly the same figures.
We always started the till with $100 in cash and change. At the end, we should see the profits/sales add up to the same amount of extra cash as was in the till. If there was too little, the employee was either stealing from the till, or wasn't very good at counting out money. Either way, they could be taken off register shifts and that could lead to their leaving the company. Strangely enough, finding there was too much money in the till seemed to point to employee theft more than too little money in the till, which was usually a clerical error by the employee.
Usually, if an employee had discrepancies, it wouldn't last long between their being-talked to and their being re-educated on the till, as well as closely observing them for a while. As I remember it, the till in question counted out perfectly, even with the extended length of that shift.
I can't say I miss working that kind of a job. It had it's moments though. There were always colorful characters on both sides of the counter, interspersed of course, with plenty of hours of absolutely nothing interesting. Sometimes things got interesting like a rock band lead singer jumping up and down on the counter, of a guy with a sword over his shoulder walking around, but that one day, will always be rather memorable for me. I thought it was pretty cool to get to watch a real professional safe cracking job, no Hollywood F/X, just cold, hard reality.
And by the way, I still have that broken drill bit.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Today's Stream of Consciousness
Good Morning.
I woke today, the second week of my vacation from my "day job". Yesterday, I had a BBQ with my daughter. We had some beer brats, some Smithwick's beers, and some kind of pea salad with pasta. Pretty tasty. The weather here has sucked all summer. This was the first day, this summer that I used my outdoor grill, a statement about the weather that on the last day of Summer, on the Labor Day weekend, I finally grilled something. I'm glad I got to go somewhere (Portland on my bike for a couple of days), but I have to make some changes.
On 9/11 my daughter leaves for Europe. It's a little unsettling that she will be leaving not only on 9/11, but also on the tenth anniversary of the event. However, I'd be more concerned, considering the possibility of a long term plan for attacking the US on that date, if she were either coming back in to the US, or going to a major external location or from a major internal one. So I figure considering the odds, I wouldn't feel concerned for myself, were I leaving on that day. Plus, she got some good prices for flying that day. I'll actually feel better once she is out of the country as she will then be in a country where no one is concerned with attacking it.
For this week, as she is working anyway, I thought I would go for another ride on my bike. Perhaps to my town of my birth. I was there a few weeks ago for work and found it far more charming than every before. It has been reinvigorated with nicer buildings and businesses. But most of the people I used to know are now living elsewhere, in other towns or countries, are deceased (or should be, but that's another story), or I have no idea what happened to them.
In waking today, the weather was cool. Too cool for my tastes. It makes me reflect on my waking in San Francisco one time, when weather here was miserable and there, it was beautiful and I walked out of the house into the sun just after 7AM with cup of coffee in hand, and a smile on my face; or when I lived in Phoenix for a time, when it was always warm to hot to too hot. I have been considering moving. With my current job, I could easily transfer to Portland, but traffic there is horrendous. Though it is warmer more often as well as on a daily basis.
For today, for this week, I was going to ride to Tacoma. Maybe. But then I thought, perhaps I should ride to NorthWestern Washington. I've not been to Sequim where the John Wayne marina resides as it was once the Duke's hideaway from Hollywood, or further around and down by Forks of current "Twilight" fame (okay, maybe not bother going there), and I haven't been to the coast up there since the 70s.
I also have two screenplays I need to work on. I worked on my "HearthTales" script yesterday, I have coverage notes that I need to incorporate. I also need to get back to my "America" screenplay that I am working on with Chris Soth. He has been incredibly helpful and it helps, that he is invested emotionally in this particular script. I have until the end of the month to turn the script in and we're still working on the treatment. It's been a rough summer.
The issue is, Monday, I have to get back to the grind (and it is a grind) of my regular corporate job that is killing the spirit I have left for creative pursuits and so, I've worked hard now for over two years to lift myself out of that job into something although perhaps, more difficult, certainly more rewarding in any of several ways.
There is a theory in Psychology that once you hit a certain age in your life, or you achieve a certain point therein, that you start to look beyond your immediate concerns (food, health, living conditions, etc.) and become more concerned with creative or noble pursuits, or perhaps, historical affects, in how you leave your life and your efforts to posterity.
I have certainly had creative desires in life that have been encumbered by life, family, children, and such. Now that my children have moved out and are focused on establishing themselves in life, in other locations, I will have the time and desire to alter my life, and can only concern myself with my own situation. Of course, I'll be concerned with my adult children, but I do not any longer have to maintain my location or situation. I can take chances again with my career. I can once again, take control of my life and live my desires, much like my kids are now. My daughter will be exploring Europe. When I make the changes I need to make, when I can cut loose from my desk job. I can get things going for myself once again; I can seek my bliss as Dharma used to say on TV.
Where would I like to do that? Italy? The French Riviera? Vietnam? Thailand? Australia? I have a friend living there I could go visit. The cool thing is? I can live wherever I "hang my hat", or turn on my laptop. I can store my writings online, and I don't even need a laptop, just a place to access my works.
My goals are simple, workable, and tiered. I want to pay off my second mortgage on my house. I want to pay off my house or sell it. I want to quit my job which means I need a new source of income. I want to travel. I am not saying I want to make a million dollars, or I want a mansion, or a hot car or travel the world. I'm starting off simple, picking increasingly more complicated things. I am using this as a kind of staircase to success. Once the first smaller issue is taken care of, the next can be attacked; once money comes in, more will come in.
The point is to make a plan, make it reasonable and work hard on it. I'm going to make these changes, the only question is when and how fast can I make it happen. At this point, I want it to happen today, after all, over two years have gone in to this effort and I gave myself five to achieve it. I would say I am certainly more than half way there so I am ahead of schedule. They say that any new business takes off or fails in the first five years. This is a small business effort. I am the business, my product is my writings, the process is my networking, my connections, and my sales. I have established myself with certain individuals and businesses.
The nice thing of this kind of thing, is that once it happens, it usually takes off pretty quickly. However, many people who try this business model, fail, because they hit a point that they feel they cannot go on any longer because they don't have the patience or perseverance. I have heard too many who have become successful say that the key is perseverance. Those who have made it were those who kept trying to become better and never gave up.
I will never give up. And I am always getting better.
But for now, I only have to worry about this week. I need to re-energize myself before I go back to the job next week because this summer, working these two jobs full time, have drained me. The biggest danger, is to let the day job, overwhelm the pursued job. So I need to keep my spirits up, my energy up, and see the success of my goals.
I think I might head north on the bike today. But I might head south. I know either way, I will head out. I will have another adventure and next week, I can think back and know that the future holds more of this. Not just another vacation, but another life.
There is one other thing. Even at my age, I can consider, that with my health status which is remarkably good, and advances in technologies and methodologies, it is possible I have yet to hit the half way point in my life. Considering all I have lived through, that I may have that many years to live still again, and all the adventures and producing I still could achieve, I find it very invigorating and exciting.
There are only good things to look forward to. Yes, there may be bad times to come, but why bother with that? "Prepare for the worst, expect the best." It is something that has served me well to live by. I don't see any reason to stop thinking that way now.
And so, time will tell.
I woke today, the second week of my vacation from my "day job". Yesterday, I had a BBQ with my daughter. We had some beer brats, some Smithwick's beers, and some kind of pea salad with pasta. Pretty tasty. The weather here has sucked all summer. This was the first day, this summer that I used my outdoor grill, a statement about the weather that on the last day of Summer, on the Labor Day weekend, I finally grilled something. I'm glad I got to go somewhere (Portland on my bike for a couple of days), but I have to make some changes.
On 9/11 my daughter leaves for Europe. It's a little unsettling that she will be leaving not only on 9/11, but also on the tenth anniversary of the event. However, I'd be more concerned, considering the possibility of a long term plan for attacking the US on that date, if she were either coming back in to the US, or going to a major external location or from a major internal one. So I figure considering the odds, I wouldn't feel concerned for myself, were I leaving on that day. Plus, she got some good prices for flying that day. I'll actually feel better once she is out of the country as she will then be in a country where no one is concerned with attacking it.
For this week, as she is working anyway, I thought I would go for another ride on my bike. Perhaps to my town of my birth. I was there a few weeks ago for work and found it far more charming than every before. It has been reinvigorated with nicer buildings and businesses. But most of the people I used to know are now living elsewhere, in other towns or countries, are deceased (or should be, but that's another story), or I have no idea what happened to them.
In waking today, the weather was cool. Too cool for my tastes. It makes me reflect on my waking in San Francisco one time, when weather here was miserable and there, it was beautiful and I walked out of the house into the sun just after 7AM with cup of coffee in hand, and a smile on my face; or when I lived in Phoenix for a time, when it was always warm to hot to too hot. I have been considering moving. With my current job, I could easily transfer to Portland, but traffic there is horrendous. Though it is warmer more often as well as on a daily basis.
For today, for this week, I was going to ride to Tacoma. Maybe. But then I thought, perhaps I should ride to NorthWestern Washington. I've not been to Sequim where the John Wayne marina resides as it was once the Duke's hideaway from Hollywood, or further around and down by Forks of current "Twilight" fame (okay, maybe not bother going there), and I haven't been to the coast up there since the 70s.
I also have two screenplays I need to work on. I worked on my "HearthTales" script yesterday, I have coverage notes that I need to incorporate. I also need to get back to my "America" screenplay that I am working on with Chris Soth. He has been incredibly helpful and it helps, that he is invested emotionally in this particular script. I have until the end of the month to turn the script in and we're still working on the treatment. It's been a rough summer.
The issue is, Monday, I have to get back to the grind (and it is a grind) of my regular corporate job that is killing the spirit I have left for creative pursuits and so, I've worked hard now for over two years to lift myself out of that job into something although perhaps, more difficult, certainly more rewarding in any of several ways.
There is a theory in Psychology that once you hit a certain age in your life, or you achieve a certain point therein, that you start to look beyond your immediate concerns (food, health, living conditions, etc.) and become more concerned with creative or noble pursuits, or perhaps, historical affects, in how you leave your life and your efforts to posterity.
I have certainly had creative desires in life that have been encumbered by life, family, children, and such. Now that my children have moved out and are focused on establishing themselves in life, in other locations, I will have the time and desire to alter my life, and can only concern myself with my own situation. Of course, I'll be concerned with my adult children, but I do not any longer have to maintain my location or situation. I can take chances again with my career. I can once again, take control of my life and live my desires, much like my kids are now. My daughter will be exploring Europe. When I make the changes I need to make, when I can cut loose from my desk job. I can get things going for myself once again; I can seek my bliss as Dharma used to say on TV.
Where would I like to do that? Italy? The French Riviera? Vietnam? Thailand? Australia? I have a friend living there I could go visit. The cool thing is? I can live wherever I "hang my hat", or turn on my laptop. I can store my writings online, and I don't even need a laptop, just a place to access my works.
My goals are simple, workable, and tiered. I want to pay off my second mortgage on my house. I want to pay off my house or sell it. I want to quit my job which means I need a new source of income. I want to travel. I am not saying I want to make a million dollars, or I want a mansion, or a hot car or travel the world. I'm starting off simple, picking increasingly more complicated things. I am using this as a kind of staircase to success. Once the first smaller issue is taken care of, the next can be attacked; once money comes in, more will come in.
The point is to make a plan, make it reasonable and work hard on it. I'm going to make these changes, the only question is when and how fast can I make it happen. At this point, I want it to happen today, after all, over two years have gone in to this effort and I gave myself five to achieve it. I would say I am certainly more than half way there so I am ahead of schedule. They say that any new business takes off or fails in the first five years. This is a small business effort. I am the business, my product is my writings, the process is my networking, my connections, and my sales. I have established myself with certain individuals and businesses.
The nice thing of this kind of thing, is that once it happens, it usually takes off pretty quickly. However, many people who try this business model, fail, because they hit a point that they feel they cannot go on any longer because they don't have the patience or perseverance. I have heard too many who have become successful say that the key is perseverance. Those who have made it were those who kept trying to become better and never gave up.
I will never give up. And I am always getting better.
But for now, I only have to worry about this week. I need to re-energize myself before I go back to the job next week because this summer, working these two jobs full time, have drained me. The biggest danger, is to let the day job, overwhelm the pursued job. So I need to keep my spirits up, my energy up, and see the success of my goals.
I think I might head north on the bike today. But I might head south. I know either way, I will head out. I will have another adventure and next week, I can think back and know that the future holds more of this. Not just another vacation, but another life.
There is one other thing. Even at my age, I can consider, that with my health status which is remarkably good, and advances in technologies and methodologies, it is possible I have yet to hit the half way point in my life. Considering all I have lived through, that I may have that many years to live still again, and all the adventures and producing I still could achieve, I find it very invigorating and exciting.
There are only good things to look forward to. Yes, there may be bad times to come, but why bother with that? "Prepare for the worst, expect the best." It is something that has served me well to live by. I don't see any reason to stop thinking that way now.
And so, time will tell.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Labor Day
I know, I give a lot of left turns (but hey, I'm not left, for right, so I'll say, I give an equal number of right turns too (okay, so maybe not, but I try to lean on rational rather than platform or agenda).
So I'm working on an article for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I was originally tempted to put it on the Memorial Day blog, as in a way, it is interchangeable. But not really. And that would be kind of late, or way too early. Because anyway, that day really IS about those who have fallen, to remember them fondly in our thoughts, to celebrate their sacrifices and to appreciate what we have, what they fought and perhaps, fell for.
I know, this is about Labor Day, but a brief aside... (calling, Mr. Tangent, Please answer the red courtesy phone in the lobby....).
Please note that the upcoming 9/11 anniversary is about something else. People want to make it a memorial day, but that isn't very useful, is it. About that, I'll talk more on, well, 9/11. I mean, maybe we need to do it, but it's not the most effective thing we can be doing with our time.
Memorial Day is for our fallen heroes. That is really the day for 9/11. It has in fact, been officially set aside for that kind of thing. On that day, we should remember those who fell for our small incidents, not just the bride of the event, like WWII, or WWI. No, not even Korea, or Viet Nam. We also had smaller wars no one talks about. We've had every day heroes who have sacrificed, like our Fire Fighters, Police, Military, Espionage Officers who are our unnamed fallen heroes no one ever tends to think about or mention but I bet their families feel the sting every year. But I'll get to more about 9/11 in a few days. When it comes up.
Today, is Labor Day. I hope everyone is enjoying a day off and having a great time with friends and family, or whomever it is you choose to be with. We've been partying on this day since the first big Labor Day in the United States as observed on September 5, 1882, by the Central Labor Union of New York.
According to Wikipedia: " It became a federal holiday in 1894, when, following the deaths of a number of workers at the hands of the U.S. military and U.S. Marshals during the Pullman Strike, President Grover Cleveland reconciled with the labor movement. Fearing further conflict, legislation making Labor Day a national holiday was rushed through Congress unanimously and signed into law a mere six days after the end of the strike. The September date originally chosen by the CLU of New York and observed by many of the nation's trade unions for the past several years was selected rather than the more widespread International Workers' Day because Cleveland was concerned that observance of the latter would stir up negative emotions linked to the Haymarket Affair, which it had been observed to commemorate. All U.S. states, the District of Columbia, and the territories have made it a statutory holiday."
Okay, enough of the History lesson.
To most of us, for most of our lives, it was just that day before school started for the new school year. Many of us were sad, many happy at yet another holiday and maybe our parents would take us away to have our last short vacation before the misery of school started backup. Or we would attend some big picnic, or go camping, boating, whatever last vestige of fun we could have before the official last holiday of Summer was over.
The next great wonderful holiday would be, Halloween. But not yet Great Pumpkin.
Now, it seems to be just one more of a day off from work. Adulthood has settled in, my kids are raised and are off on their own now. For me, my birthday is August 30th and for years I have been taking a week off for that, rather than taking the day off. This year, I had a rough work summer and so I am taking two weeks off. I rode my bike a couple of hundred miles down to visit my son in Portland, Oregon. I had a great time. Taking my birthday off was something I started many years ago when I realized that I had never ever worked on my birthday. Even through the military and that one is hard to achieve. I was told that if possible, you could have off your birthday, or your anniversary. I was lucky, I always got both. So now, I try to take my birthday off (being single now you see).
So I usually end my birthday week off with Labor Day, which is great because then after a week off, my week back at work typically has four, rather than five days back at work. Nice to go back with a short work week in play.
Wikipedia also indicates that in "U.S. sports, Labor Day marks the beginning of the NFL and college football seasons. NCAA teams usually play their first games the week before Labor Day, with the NFL traditionally playing their first game the Thursday following Labor Day. The Southern 500 NASCAR auto race was held that day from 1950 to 1983 in Darlington, South Carolina. At Indianapolis, the National Hot Rod Association hold their finals to the U.S. Nationals drag race.
So, whatever your pleasure, I just hope you are enjoying your three day weekend. And know that I wish you and yours, all the best. Have a happy and healthy end to your Summer.
Cheers!
So I'm working on an article for the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I was originally tempted to put it on the Memorial Day blog, as in a way, it is interchangeable. But not really. And that would be kind of late, or way too early. Because anyway, that day really IS about those who have fallen, to remember them fondly in our thoughts, to celebrate their sacrifices and to appreciate what we have, what they fought and perhaps, fell for.
I know, this is about Labor Day, but a brief aside... (calling, Mr. Tangent, Please answer the red courtesy phone in the lobby....).
Please note that the upcoming 9/11 anniversary is about something else. People want to make it a memorial day, but that isn't very useful, is it. About that, I'll talk more on, well, 9/11. I mean, maybe we need to do it, but it's not the most effective thing we can be doing with our time.
Memorial Day is for our fallen heroes. That is really the day for 9/11. It has in fact, been officially set aside for that kind of thing. On that day, we should remember those who fell for our small incidents, not just the bride of the event, like WWII, or WWI. No, not even Korea, or Viet Nam. We also had smaller wars no one talks about. We've had every day heroes who have sacrificed, like our Fire Fighters, Police, Military, Espionage Officers who are our unnamed fallen heroes no one ever tends to think about or mention but I bet their families feel the sting every year. But I'll get to more about 9/11 in a few days. When it comes up.
Today, is Labor Day. I hope everyone is enjoying a day off and having a great time with friends and family, or whomever it is you choose to be with. We've been partying on this day since the first big Labor Day in the United States as observed on September 5, 1882, by the Central Labor Union of New York.
According to Wikipedia: " It became a federal holiday in 1894, when, following the deaths of a number of workers at the hands of the U.S. military and U.S. Marshals during the Pullman Strike, President Grover Cleveland reconciled with the labor movement. Fearing further conflict, legislation making Labor Day a national holiday was rushed through Congress unanimously and signed into law a mere six days after the end of the strike. The September date originally chosen by the CLU of New York and observed by many of the nation's trade unions for the past several years was selected rather than the more widespread International Workers' Day because Cleveland was concerned that observance of the latter would stir up negative emotions linked to the Haymarket Affair, which it had been observed to commemorate. All U.S. states, the District of Columbia, and the territories have made it a statutory holiday."
Okay, enough of the History lesson.
To most of us, for most of our lives, it was just that day before school started for the new school year. Many of us were sad, many happy at yet another holiday and maybe our parents would take us away to have our last short vacation before the misery of school started backup. Or we would attend some big picnic, or go camping, boating, whatever last vestige of fun we could have before the official last holiday of Summer was over.
The next great wonderful holiday would be, Halloween. But not yet Great Pumpkin.
Now, it seems to be just one more of a day off from work. Adulthood has settled in, my kids are raised and are off on their own now. For me, my birthday is August 30th and for years I have been taking a week off for that, rather than taking the day off. This year, I had a rough work summer and so I am taking two weeks off. I rode my bike a couple of hundred miles down to visit my son in Portland, Oregon. I had a great time. Taking my birthday off was something I started many years ago when I realized that I had never ever worked on my birthday. Even through the military and that one is hard to achieve. I was told that if possible, you could have off your birthday, or your anniversary. I was lucky, I always got both. So now, I try to take my birthday off (being single now you see).
So I usually end my birthday week off with Labor Day, which is great because then after a week off, my week back at work typically has four, rather than five days back at work. Nice to go back with a short work week in play.
 |
| Well, I'm not much into professional sports so... |
Wikipedia also indicates that in "U.S. sports, Labor Day marks the beginning of the NFL and college football seasons. NCAA teams usually play their first games the week before Labor Day, with the NFL traditionally playing their first game the Thursday following Labor Day. The Southern 500 NASCAR auto race was held that day from 1950 to 1983 in Darlington, South Carolina. At Indianapolis, the National Hot Rod Association hold their finals to the U.S. Nationals drag race.
So, whatever your pleasure, I just hope you are enjoying your three day weekend. And know that I wish you and yours, all the best. Have a happy and healthy end to your Summer.
Cheers!
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Weekend Wise Words
Be Smart! Be Brilliant!
I'm in the middle of two weeks vacation after a very difficult summer at work. So I'm in the mindset to look at the fantastic, the nonday today kind of things. We once had our minds set on space. Now? We have canceled the Space Shuttle program. According to one of the last astronauts to fly in the final Space Shuttle mission earlier this year, we will have four or five years off, utilizing the Russian's program to get to space, then start using private industry flights. Okay.
What we need to remember is that we need to keep our imagination open, not just our access to space, but our imagining space and everything about it.
“What everyone in the astronaut corps shares in common is not gender or ethnic background, but motivation, perseverance, and desire - the desire to participate in a voyage of discovery.”
– Ellen Ochoa
"I'm sure we would not have had men on the Moon if it had not been for Wells and Verne and the people who write about this and made people think about it. I'm rather proud of the fact that I know several astronauts who became astronauts through reading my books."
— Arthur C Clarke, The View from Serendip, page 238, 1977.
"America has tossed its cap over the wall of space. "
John F. Kennedy
"When a place gets crowded enough to require ID's,
social collapse is not far away. It is time to go elsewhere. The best thing about space travel is that it made it possible to go elsewhere.
"
Robert A. Heinlein
"Love is space and time measured by the heart.
"
Marcel Proust
"Through space, the universe encompasses and swallows me up like an atom; through thought, I comprehend the world."
Blaise Pascal
"Space is big. You just won't believe how vastly,
hugely, mind-bogglingly big it is. I mean, you may think it's a long way down the road to the drug store, but that's just peanuts to space.
"
Douglas Adams
"We humans are an extremely important manifestation of the replication bomb, because it is through us - through our brains, our symbolic culture and our technology - that the explosion may proceed to the next stage and reverberate through deep space."
Richard Dawkins
"Size is not a reality, but a construct of the mind, and space a construct to contain constructs."
Robert Anton Wilson
And, it pays to look from the outside in at times.
"After one look at this planet, any visitor from outer space would say 'I want to see the manager."
William S. Burroughs
In the end, we need our imagination....
"Perhaps, as some wit remarked, the best proof that there is Intelligent Life in Outer Space is the fact it hasn't come here. Well, it can't hide forever - one day we will overhear it."
Arthur C. Clarke
I'm in the middle of two weeks vacation after a very difficult summer at work. So I'm in the mindset to look at the fantastic, the nonday today kind of things. We once had our minds set on space. Now? We have canceled the Space Shuttle program. According to one of the last astronauts to fly in the final Space Shuttle mission earlier this year, we will have four or five years off, utilizing the Russian's program to get to space, then start using private industry flights. Okay.
What we need to remember is that we need to keep our imagination open, not just our access to space, but our imagining space and everything about it.
 |
| Ellen Ochoa |
– Ellen Ochoa
 |
| Arthur C Clarke |
— Arthur C Clarke, The View from Serendip, page 238, 1977.
"America has tossed its cap over the wall of space. "
John F. Kennedy
 |
| Robert A. Heinlein |
Robert A. Heinlein
 |
| Marcel Proust |
Marcel Proust
"Through space, the universe encompasses and swallows me up like an atom; through thought, I comprehend the world."
Blaise Pascal
 |
| Douglas Adams |
Douglas Adams
"We humans are an extremely important manifestation of the replication bomb, because it is through us - through our brains, our symbolic culture and our technology - that the explosion may proceed to the next stage and reverberate through deep space."
Richard Dawkins
"Size is not a reality, but a construct of the mind, and space a construct to contain constructs."
Robert Anton Wilson
And, it pays to look from the outside in at times.
"After one look at this planet, any visitor from outer space would say 'I want to see the manager."
William S. Burroughs
In the end, we need our imagination....
 |
| Arthur C. Clarke |
Arthur C. Clarke
Friday, September 2, 2011
Wanna be a lab rat? Guess what? You are.
Did you know that we are now in the largest experiment on Humans every done in the history of the world?
We are being deluged with radiation. In the 2009 documentary "Full Signal", they claim that the biggest killer of children under 20 is brain tumors. I looked it up.
The Jim Doody Foundation was founded in order to promote awareness of the prevalence and nature of brain tumors and the need for brain tumor research funding, raise the much needed funds to do so, and preserve the memory of Jim Doody. According to them, brain tumors are the number two cause of death in men age 45 and younger. Only 31 percent of males and 30 percent of females survive five years following the diagnosis of a primary or malignant brain tumor. Childhood brain tumors are the leading cause of cancer death in people age 20 and younger. Brain tumors are the leading cause of SOLID TUMOR death in children under age 20 now surpassing acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL), and are the third-leading cause of cancer death in young adults ages 20-39.
We keep hearing about cell phone radiation not being harmful. But what about the millions of cell phone Towers and Antennae that are everywhere? Do you even realize how many are around? Especially now that they are hiding them. Can some people feel them? Or be affected by them? Or killed? They have done some research and proven that some are elctrohypersensitive to radiation and could 100% of the time correctly deduce if a cell phone were turned on in the room with them.
My son and I both have very good hearing. My hearing is nothing like it once was. When I was in the Air Force, I went for my annual hearing test as I worked on the flight line next to very large jet engines. My hearing was literally off the charts. The technician thought his equipment was faulty, but proved it wasn't. I was just that good at hearing beyond normal Human range. My son has this capability. We can both hear something, a high pitched sound, when we are here at home. But we could never find the source and it never occurred to me until today that it might be the cell tower at the top of the hill above us. And I don't hear this sound all the time.
Cell radiation is bathing us on a consistent and enduring duration. The American Cancer Society says that there has been no evidence in ten years that the cell radiation harms people. However, even tobacco took fifteen to twenty years to show evidence of cancer and tumors. The same is true for asbestos with mesothelioma. Cell phones on a large scale basis like they are now, have not been around that long. So we don't even have the information yet to prove one way or another what the long turn effects are going to be.
A large prospective cohort study of cell phone use and its possible long-term health effects was launched in Europe in March 2010. This study, known as COSMOS, will enroll approximately 250,000 cell phone users ages 18 or older and will follow them for 20 to 30 years.
Another case-control study, called Mobi-Kids, is under way to examine health effects among children.
The FDA and FCC have suggested some steps that concerned cell phone users can take to reduce their exposure to radio frequency energy:
- Reserve the use of cell phones for shorter conversations or for times when a landline phone is not available.
- Use a hands-free device, which places more distance between the phone and the head of the user.
 |
| effective against all high-frequency radiation up to far beyond 10GHz |
The National Cancer Institute at the National Institutes of Health says: "Brain cancer incidence and mortality (death) rates have changed little in the past decade. In the United States, 22,340 new diagnoses and 13,110 deaths from brain cancer are estimated for 2011. The 5-year relative survival for brain cancers diagnosed from 2001 through 2007 was 34.8 percent (21). This is the percentage of people diagnosed with brain cancer who will still be alive 5 years after diagnosis compared with the survival of a person of the same age and sex who does not have cancer."
The International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC) is part of the World Health Organization (WHO). Its major goal is to identify causes of cancer. The IARC has classified RF fields as "possibly carcinogenic to humans," based on limited evidence of a possible increase in risk for brain tumors among cell phone users, and inadequate evidence for other types of cancer. (For more information on the IARC classification system, see our document, Known and Probable Human Carcinogens.)
Also in 2008, the director of Cancer Research at the University of Pittsburgh bolstered concerns about cell phone dangers when he released a controversial memo to his staff concerning modified cell phone practices to ward off potential harm:
"Although the evidence is still controversial, I am convinced that there are sufficient data to warrant issuing an advisory to share some precautionary advice on cell phone use," Dr. Ronald Herberman wrote in his memo.
He went on to warn that children shouldn't use cell phones except in emergency situations because "the developing organs of a fetus or child are the most likely to be sensitive to any possible effects of exposure to electromagnetic fields."
"Cell phones have become an essential part of our culture both for personal reasons and for work ... they are here to stay, but we need to evaluate whether cell phone design and usage needs to be adjusted to avoid or minimize potential risks," she adds.
"Cell phones have become an essential part of our culture both for personal reasons and for work ... they are here to stay, but we need to evaluate whether cell phone design and usage needs to be adjusted to avoid or minimize potential risks," she adds.
The point is, cell phones are here to stay. But the danger from their radiation doesn't have to. We need to be researching and finding more healthy ways to live with what we are already stuck with. We need to think about this situation, talk about it, bring it out into the open and not allow the cell phone companies to brush yet again another health issue under the rug. Look what we allowed the Tabacco companies to get away with for so many decades and how many died from something the corporations lied repeatedly about being safe.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Lighthearted Tales of USAF "PJs"
I just watched a SMTHHD (Smithsonian) Channel documentary on Helicopter Missions, called, The Taliban Gambit, about some ParaRescue guys rescuing a Navy SEAL, the only survivor of a mission. Once they completed their amazing rescue, they went back for the bodies of the rest of the team.
It got me to thinking about the PJs I used to work with in the Air Force in the last half of the1970s. What a bunch of characters. I had a lot of dealings with the PJs on base and I thought I would share some of those experiences with you. PJs are some tough, incredible guys. But they have a sense of humor that is not uncommon among those who go into harm's way, but not common in the least.
I was stationed at Fairchild Air Force Base, early 1976-79, a Strategic Air Command (SAC) base. We had mostly B-52 Bombers and KC-135 refueling Tankers. But we also had a POW training facility that shut down about that time at the end of the 1970s, a Survival School for training pilots and others, and the ParaRescue Unit.
I worked in the Survival Equipment Shop as a Parachute Rigger. I had other jobs where I worked in the cockpit of the planes, but this concerns my Rigging job. I packed the B-52 drag chutes, the emergency chutes for all the planes, and the PJs chutes that they jumped sometimes, daily.
Myself, I had amateur experience in a lot of things these PJs did before I got into the Air Force: guns, martial arts, sky diving, SCUBA diving, and so on. I went in guaranteed Law Enforcement (signed into the OSI before getting out, but then got out for college). Flat feet almost got me tossed out in basic, but I argued and was allowed to stay in if I chose another AFSC, career field. So, parachute rigger it was.
[UPDATE 2019: I even wrote a screenplay about that pre USAF part of my life that I'm currently hawking to studios titled, "The Teenage Bodyguard." And yes, I do have to mention that all the time...as I said I'm hawking it...and advertising is part of that effort. You never know who is listening.]
"PJ" just stands for "Parachute Jumper", because that is what they did. These were guys that would have to go into combat zones, sometimes, live battles taking place and amidst gunfire, extract wounded soldiers. They had to get in safely, stabilize and extract soldiers possibly near death, and get out safely. Basically, to most people, these guys are nuts. In a good way. That is, I loved these guys and I'm sure plenty of wounded in firefights who were being extracted by these guys, loved them too.
The emergency chutes I packed were 28 foot parabolic chutes, round, not like the squares most jump now a days. PJs jumped 36 foot chutes because they could be jumping with full gear, weapons and armor. These were totally different types of chutes to pack. The emergency chutes were packed for deploy at 400 miles an hour. The PJ's chutes mostly for static line deployment, but not necessarily. The thing about their chutes, and this is important, you have to flip the body of the canopy as you place it in the pack, attached to the risers that connect to the shroud lines which are attached to the canopy.
I asked them one day, what do you usually do for a day at work? One of them said, "Well, today we got to work at O dark 400 and went for a five mile run. Then we did some climbing on the mountain and repelling practice. Then we went up in the helos and jumped out with full SCUBA gear, hit the lake and practiced covertly swimming to shore. That, was all before lunch.
I'll tell you about a few of our interactions. I may have mentioned one of these before but this is the first time I mention them all together. Mostly, when I think about my dealings with these great guys, it evokes humor and / or, involves laughing and good times while dealing with them.
I enjoyed the friendship I had with them (everyone is friends with their rigger, in fact, pilots during Viet Nam, if they had to use a parachute in an emergency situation, would buy the rigger who packed it, either a bottle or a case of whiskey, depending on how much they thought of themselves). Also, the Air Force lives for the pilots. The pilots therefore, live for the riggers. No one messes with the pilots, and no one messes with the riggers. If you see what I'm saying.
I can think of several instances that I had interesting dealings with the PJs on our base. I got to know a few of them but they were a tight group and mostly hung out together. But I can tell you here about these times: My First Packing (of a PJ chute); the Army six man life raft fiasco; the BUFF drag chute incident; the Reassignment Going Away Party.
My First Packing (of a PJ chute)
As I mentioned, packing a PJ chute was different than packing an emergency chute. For one thing, emergency chutes were only packed every 120 days for inspection periods, to be sure they were safe, haven't been tampered with (sabotaged), and to replace parts that are going out of service (which happens to every piece of a chute, every seven years). I won't bother talking about the emergency chute they carry. Typically, they just too low for using an emergency chute anyway.
The most important thing is that a PJ will be jumping a chute that I packed, most likely, that next day, or by the end of the week, for sure. So if you mess up packing it, either they die, are hospitalized, or they may come find you to talk about how you packed it, something you never want to hear, unless they are bringing you a bottle of booze, which also never happens, because for them, these aren't emergency chute, they mean to jump them when they jump them and they had better damn well work.
So I packed my first PJ chute. I was very careful. But in being careful, I was too careful and still ended up getting the chute, which goes into an inner bag, into the pack which is part of the harness. End result is, when the PJ comes down, the "mod" (modification, or hole in the panels of 1.1 ripstop nylon) ends up in the front, rather than the back. The effect is that you come down backward and it's hard to see where you are going or exactly when you are going to touch down.
It's really bad form for a rigger to do this, and mistakes aren't forgivable, or shouldn't be. So I come into work one day and Tech Sgt. Pettina, my boss over both shops, my Parachute Shop in the back, and the Fabric and Rubbergear shop in the front. So I walk in the front door one morning at 7AM and Pete says, "The PJs are looking for you."
I said, "Oh, cool." But Pete says, "No, not really. You packed a chute of theirs and it opened backward. Did you not flip it before you put the chute bag into the pack? He got hurt and he's in the hospital." I said, "Oh, no!" He said, "So, they're looking for you. They're not happy. The guy in the hospital, he's hurt pretty bad."
I went into the back shop and sweated out their arrival. Eventually, they showed up. But I saw them come in the front door, through the upper glass part of the metal door between shops. It dawned on me to head out the back door. So I did. When I got back (after I saw them leave), Pete said, "PJs were asking about you."
This went on for two solid weeks. Finally one day, they came in the front door and I went out the back again. Only this time, one of them was at the back door. I almost ran into him. He said, "Hey, we've been looking for you. Why don't you come back on inside, we'd like to talk to you." I gave up. I walked back into the chute shop.
The other PJs came from the front into the back shop. I knew it was over.
The team leader walked up to me. They are all good looking guys, muscular, in sharp uniforms. Having a team of them trying to track you down is no fun. But by then I just figured, okay, whatever we have to do, let's get it over with.
Their leader walked up to me and I was surrounded. I said, "What can I do for you?"
He said, "You know, you're a hard guy to find, we've been looking for you for two weeks now." I said, "Yeah, I know, sorry about that."
And he says, "I have some things I think you might be interested in."
Perplexed, I said, "Okayyyy... what?"
He said, "We have some things you might want, you have some we want. I thought we could make a trade." I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. No beat down?
"So," I said, "You guys aren't looking for me about what happened with the chute opening up backward?" He looked at me with genuine surprise.
"What? What are you talking about?" I told him what Pete had said. He laughed. "Pete pulled a good one on you. So that's why we couldn't find you for two weeks?" About then, the guy who had jumped that chute, actually walked into the back shop. Laughing, the leader said, "Hell, we thought it was hilarious, we wanted to shake your hand, what a joke that was. And no, he didn't get hurt, did you," he said, looking at the PJ who jumped the chute. He answered.
"No, I didn't get hurt, it sucked though, I couldn't judge when I'd hit the ground and I hit hard but I didn't get hurt. They all thought it was pretty funny thought." Everyone was laughing by now.
"No, don't worry about it. It takes a lot more than that to put one of us in the hospital." And we all had a good laugh about it and ended up making a good trade on some stuff they needed.
The Over Packed PJ Chute
Sadly, I wasn't involved in this caper but it would have pleased me to no end to have been there. One of the PJs was talking to my shop boss, Mike, one day. They came up with a scheme to overpack one of the PJ chutes, then have one of them jump it. Of course, the guy that jumped it, didn't know it was over packed.
What I mean about overpacking the chute is adding content. You see, those chutes are tight and packed hard to begin with. As they are, they are big chutes. But after adding a couple of packs of chaf (aluminum foil confetti that confuses radar), five pounds of talcum powder, and a few rolls of toilet paper, it was a very over packed chute. From what I understand it was a real bear to pack and there was a fear it would burst open before getting jumped. But it held together.
On the day of the jump (I had the day off, much to my regret), everyone, PJ's and the rigger who packed it, went out to the LZ (jump site landing zone) and had folding chairs. Some other guys saw that they were setting up for something so they joined them to see what the spectacle was going to be. They weren't disappointed.
Now, all the told the PJ who jumped the chute, was that there were some modifications done to the chute that they wanted to test. His reaction was, "Uh, okay." And he jumped it. The guys who watched it from below said you could actually hear it pop open. At that point, the PJ jumping the chute said he almost had a heart attack when the chute literally exploded open.
He found himself in a cloud of white, when the talc package broke open, the chaff drifted around and sparkled in the sun and the rolls of toilet paper unraveled and fell away from him; he said he really didn't know what to think, he was just surprised and wondering what the hell happened. Once he was under canopy (and it was a perfect deployment, by the way, the extra stuff didn't affect the inflation whatsoever), he had time to think and realized what must have happened.
The guys on the ground burst into a round of applause, laughter and yelling. It was evidently something to experience however, for the people on the ground watching who had no idea what was about to happen. In the end, everyone, including the PJ who jumped the chute, said they had an incredibly good time. However, the rigger who packed the chute said, he'd never do it again, it was just too hard to get packed up properly.
The Army Six Man Life Raft Fiasco
I had a six man (though it felt like a seven man) life raft that my mother picked up years before. We used it for a while and then she lost interest in it. So I ended up with it. I wasn't really using it anymore either. Though I did use it for SCUBA diving from time to time in the early 70s.
The PJs heard me talking about it and said they would have a use for it and were looking for one. I said well, I had one. They asked if it was in good condition. I told them I didn't know, but as we were the fabric and rubber shop too, we could not only fix it, but also certify it was in good condition.
I talked to Dan in the front shop and he agreed to help me with it and he'd get some of the trade out of it. Now Dan was trained in this as a primary job, I was training as a Parachute Rigger, and as they wanted us all to be able to do one another's jobs, I was the in the two shops to cross train. But I wanted some help and more experience helping me. PJs weren't the guys you cut corners with. We worked on anything in the front shop, from 1 man life rafts, to 20 man life rafts, environmental suits, thermo nuclear flash radiation barrier curtains for aircraft windows, to upholstering things.
So I brought in my Olive Drab (OD) green life raft and we blew it up to proper Pounds Per Square inch (PSI) pressures specs. And we found leaks. We found some rubbed spots, some fairly good sized damage. I had used it some years before as a platform to SCUBA dive off of and it was just getting old on top of it. But, we patched it up and kept working on throughout out the week until finally on Friday, we had it ready. We called the PJs and they came over.
We showed it to them inflated. We assured them it was in good condition. We sucked the air out of it and folded it up while they got the stuff they were trading us for it. They carried it out and we thought that would be the end of it.
Until Monday....
Come Monday, three of the PJs showed up. They were friendly as usual, but said they were not very happy about the condition of the raft. We asked what they meant, because we were sure it was in good shape. Then they told us the story.
They had take it, four of them, to a river race on the Snake River. Many people were there that day for this race. They took four guys and a case of beer with them. As they were going down the river in the race, they thought they had a good chance of winning. Then suddenly, one entire cell of the raft, the entire right side, deflated and suddenly one of them was gone, into the waters of the river.
About this time, Dan and I were not only horrified they had lost a PJ (and what repercussion was that going to be on us, we wondered), but we were also worried about our having certified that the raft were good to the PJs, and how were they going to respond now? They seemed amiable enough, as usual, but they were talking like they weren't happy. And they weren't.
So we questioned them more, we told them we didn't know they were going to take the raft into a river race where there were unknowns like rocks they could rush into and who knows what else, pieces of trees, branches, who knew? They were sweating us pretty good. And then they cracked up laughing.
They told us they knew what they were getting into and they weren't worried about it. The only thing was, who was going to replace that case of beer they lost over the side. I was stunned. I said, "You lost a case of beer?! What about the guy who went into the drink?" They said, "Screw him! What about the beer? We lost a whole case of beer and it was supposed to last the entire race." I asked of the PJ was fine and they pointed to the guy who had gone in the water. He spoke up saying, "Hey, I'm a man! I tried to save the beer, but I had a lot to contend with at the time."
In the end, they said they have a blast and they didn't care that the life raft had blown a cell when they rammed a rock sticking up out of the water and that it was their fault. They said they had a great time and it was worth it, still, they regretted losing that case of beer. After all, the PJ who went into the water would heal, but the beer was now lost forever!
The Notorious B-52 Drag Chute Incident
One day the PJs stopped by after I called them to say that their day chutes were ready. So they came over, hung out a bit killing time like they did sometimes. We always enjoyed them hanging around because they had really positive energy and hearty laughs. This must have been int he morning, because I always packed the BUFF (Big Ugly Fat F*ckers, or if civilians were around, Big Ugly Fat Fellows) chutes, that were used to slow the B-52 bombers when they landed.
These chutes were 232 pounds of ribbon nylon, part of that weight being a 25 pound buckle where the chute attaches to the compartment on the tail of the plane.
When the plane lands, the chute door opens, the pilot chute pops out, catches the wind, inflates, pulls out the main chute (actually, the pilot chute, just as a pilot chute works for a regular sport chute, anchors in the air, and you fall away from it), which inflates and helps the plane to slow down without wasting the engines or brakes having to do all the work. It is an effective and cheaper way to slow the plane down.
These chutes were heavy to haul around on the ground, worse when wet, horrible heavy when they have scooped up snow in them in the Winter times (or a rattle snake in the summer time). Once they scooped up some spent shotgun shells, and the MP's (Military Police) came in one an unannounced inspection with explosives trained dogs and they alerted on the chutes which required a shut down of the shop. This really annoyed our boss, as we were getting behind on our work and it was, after all, only some expended shells.
And the static electricity they could generate was no fun at all. Once put on the table (if they didn't need to be put in the tower, then winched up with a giant hand held drill, which could, if you weren't careful, kicked you across the room if done incorrectly, or break an arm, even), then stretched the length of the table and all the knots removed.
If they chute had been put in the tower to dry using the giant blowers, when they came out, they were fluffy and horribly difficult to get ordered and packed. This is where the static electricity would come in play. If there were a knot in the shroud line, you had to hit it with a rawhide mallet to loosen it up. If it had been wet then dried, let's just say you'd want to have undone the knot ahead of time if possible.
Once they are straightened out and readied on the table, you tied the ribbon shroud off, then orderly put them into the bag in a zigzag fashion as they deploy very fast and like with a regular parachute, crossed nylon lines can cut another line right in half, a dangerous situation.
After that, you fold the canopy into the pack, then stand on the box the pack is in, hold a bar above your head, and jump up and down repeatedly until you can close the pack, and put the large buckle on top. Then you haul or drag the heavy back into another room where they could be accessed to be put on a plane at any time day or night.
That being said, the PJs were kidding around in the shop and we got to talking about how heavy these chutes were. I picked a chute by its side handle, a piece of folded nylon that cold take the weight, there were two on either side, designed for two men to use two hands to pick them up for transport. But I would pick it up using the handle, getting the chute a couple of inches off the ground so I could carry it to the next room. The PJs had obvious muscles. I was a skinny 20 year old kid.
The PJs, being PJs, started talking smack and said, they bet I couldn't lift one on my shoulder. A couple of my guys were there too. So one thing lead to another and we had a bet. One of their guys would put a packed chute on his shoulder for five seconds, before dropping it. Just a gentleman's bet. So I said, okay, you first.
The PJ I'll call Paul, picked up one of the chutes by the two handles. I knew right then, he simply didn't know how to handle something that bulky. I knew two things that gave me an edge. I did this every day, at least four chutes a day, sometimes as many as thirteen, which was a long, and hard work day. Seconds, they weren't used to dealing with something so bulky and it takes experience almost more than strength to move them around.
Paul got the chute up to his knees. He tried to snap it up to his chest, and got it to his waist. He was starting to struggle already. His and my guys were yelling now, and laughing. But Paul was turning too red, his muscles were completely inflated. He was pumped up pretty good. I was getting worried for when it was my turn. My thought was, if a PJ can't do it, I don't have a chance in Hell. Paul took a breath, then snapped the chute up and arched his back, and got it up to his chest... for about four seconds. I was seriously worried about him, he was fully red, straining too much, and then, he dropped it. And there was a round of noise and hoots and hollers.
Then everyone looked at me. Good God, I knew I was in trouble, but I decided to take what I just saw and not make any mistakes I had just seen him make. I knew of NO one who had put a B-52 drag chute on their shoulder, or even got one up to their chest. I mean, why in God's name would anyone want to do that to begin with?
I grabbed the chute by one handle. I lifted it upright, sitting on the pin in the bottom. Then, I grabbed the second handle and lift the entire chute up the side of my body, using the friction and leverage to my advantage. At some point, I knew, I had to just go for it and if I stopped, I'd lose. So, when I was ready, I took a breath, and hefted it up my side, onto my chest, and hesitated, only for maybe half a second, and could feel the full weight of this chute on my chest, knowing I couldn't go this, but not wanting to fail, I simply went for it.
I pushed it, seemingly up into the ceiling, and it moved, it went up to my chest, over the front of my chest, and fell back on my shoulder. God that hurt, but I got it balanced on my shoulder. I went to drop it right away but their leader said, "NO! Five-second count!" What? Seriously? So I had to wait while they counted off the necessary five seconds. Now that I think about it, maybe to help save some face? Finally, regretfully, he said, OK and I dropped it as fast as I could as I moved out of its way.
I was exhausted, but I had done it! I looked at my guys, who were unbelievably excited. I looked at the PJs and they had only admiration in their eyes that were filled with good humor and camaraderie. It was like for even a moment, I was one of them. I loved those guys. I got some slaps on the back and words of congratulations and a hand shake and a grin from the loser.
I could see that Paul felt bad, not because he felt inferior, just that I'm sure, with all his training, he figured he should have been able to heft that chute up on his shoulder, and really, he wasn't much able to get it up to his chest. So I just told him, "Look, really, don't worry about it. I'm sure there are things you do I certainly couldn't do. Besides, I work with these every day and it's mostly about knowing them, understanding how to use leverage them because brute strength, just doesn't work with these bastards."He smiled.
A couple of his own guys agreed with me, telling him that I actually had the advantage since I work with these things every day. He started to feel better, and it was obvious it wasn't that big a deal to him, he just felt like he let his guys down and himself. I pointed out to him to just forget about it. I told him that really, it was mostly about knowing how to handle these heavy chutes and said that I'm used to hauling these things about the shop.
And as proof of that, I pulled a second chute over to the first, then with them side by side and standing between them, I picked them both up, one on either side, and carried them, all 464 pounds of them, out of the packing room, into the main parachute room, and through the adjacent door to the drag chute pickup room, a matter of only about ten feet.
But it was a long ten feet for me. The hard part was sidling them through the normal sized doorways, but I had done it all before actually. It was quite a strain and I was glad I carried it off looking so relaxed. To be honest, I had only recently realized I could do that and was the only guy in the shop I ever saw do it.
They all thought that was pretty funny, and even Paul laughed about it. He knew I was just razzing him and that we were all right about what was being said. That those who work their job, always know their job best, can do it better, and handle their equipment better, than those who do not. After all, wasn't that why they practiced what they did, day in and day out?
What a crazy team of guys, but what a great team to be a part of, if only for a short time, and to have earned their respect.
The Reassignment Going Away Party
PJ Paul, from the last story, got new orders cut. He was the youngest of the PJs on base, and it was time for him to leave the nest and go to a new base. So of course, they had to have a party. The PJs had their shop next to the flight line where the planes lined up to be readied to take off.
They needed access to their Chinook heelos (helicopters) to be able to take of ASAP should the order ever be given and so their shop was right in the middle of everything. I once almost got to sky dive from a Chinook myself, but before I got into the service; having no military ID at the time, it didn't happen. No one really went to their shop unless invited or in the course of their duties. I was only out there once or twice myself.
The main part of the building was a living area of sorts, with a sink area and a couple of refrigerators. They threw their party for Paul by having food, fridges full of beers, and hard alcohol. The party got started and they were having a good time. A couple of the guys, decided to go get their wives and bring them back to join in the party. While they were gone however, things got a bit out of hand. Paul, being young and nervous about a new base, and leaving his pals and his first base ever, partied a little too hardy. That lead the others to follow suit.
So, by time the married guys got back with their wives, they walked into a shop that had several completely naked PJs, drunk, three sheets to the wind as they say, running through the building with alcohol in hand, and rough housing. There stood the wives, in shock, as several of the PJs ran into the main room, stark raving naked and looking, most likely, raving mad and yelling; basically, just having fun. This however, did not sit well with the married PJs and they were furious. They turned their wives around and they all marched out. The PJs inside, just stood there, stunned. Then went back to playing.
The next few days weren't happy as the married PJs had been embarrassed in front of their wives and saw the behavior as simply uncool and unprofessional. Weeks after Paul had moved on to his new base, I heard grumbles still about that party and it simply wasn't mentioned again in their presence. The other PJs who weren't married, pretty much all thought it was downright hilarious, but even they admitted it was cool to do around the wives.
In closing, I can only tell you that these were some of the greatest guys in the world. These were just a few of the things I could fondly remember about the PJs I had the honor to work with and support. These were guys who would do anything for you, they would do anything in order to do their job and save another. They had a good sense of humor, laughed in the face of death, and nothing was too difficult for them. The kind of guys you want watching your back.
I can only say, I'll never forget them. I was lucky enough to know them in peace time, during a period when we were bored, but could have a few laughs. I can think of no others I would want to come get me out of harm's way if I were injured, and I wouldn't want to face them when they were pissed off in battle trying to do their job, being in the way of them doing their job in saving America lives, the lives of American Soldiers, or whomever they had been ordered to go and get out of harm's way.
Thanks for the laughs, guys. I'm proud to have even known you and I hope you all were able to retire safely as healthy and older, PJs.
It got me to thinking about the PJs I used to work with in the Air Force in the last half of the1970s. What a bunch of characters. I had a lot of dealings with the PJs on base and I thought I would share some of those experiences with you. PJs are some tough, incredible guys. But they have a sense of humor that is not uncommon among those who go into harm's way, but not common in the least.
I was stationed at Fairchild Air Force Base, early 1976-79, a Strategic Air Command (SAC) base. We had mostly B-52 Bombers and KC-135 refueling Tankers. But we also had a POW training facility that shut down about that time at the end of the 1970s, a Survival School for training pilots and others, and the ParaRescue Unit.
I worked in the Survival Equipment Shop as a Parachute Rigger. I had other jobs where I worked in the cockpit of the planes, but this concerns my Rigging job. I packed the B-52 drag chutes, the emergency chutes for all the planes, and the PJs chutes that they jumped sometimes, daily.
Myself, I had amateur experience in a lot of things these PJs did before I got into the Air Force: guns, martial arts, sky diving, SCUBA diving, and so on. I went in guaranteed Law Enforcement (signed into the OSI before getting out, but then got out for college). Flat feet almost got me tossed out in basic, but I argued and was allowed to stay in if I chose another AFSC, career field. So, parachute rigger it was.
[UPDATE 2019: I even wrote a screenplay about that pre USAF part of my life that I'm currently hawking to studios titled, "The Teenage Bodyguard." And yes, I do have to mention that all the time...as I said I'm hawking it...and advertising is part of that effort. You never know who is listening.]
"PJ" just stands for "Parachute Jumper", because that is what they did. These were guys that would have to go into combat zones, sometimes, live battles taking place and amidst gunfire, extract wounded soldiers. They had to get in safely, stabilize and extract soldiers possibly near death, and get out safely. Basically, to most people, these guys are nuts. In a good way. That is, I loved these guys and I'm sure plenty of wounded in firefights who were being extracted by these guys, loved them too.
I asked them one day, what do you usually do for a day at work? One of them said, "Well, today we got to work at O dark 400 and went for a five mile run. Then we did some climbing on the mountain and repelling practice. Then we went up in the helos and jumped out with full SCUBA gear, hit the lake and practiced covertly swimming to shore. That, was all before lunch.
I enjoyed the friendship I had with them (everyone is friends with their rigger, in fact, pilots during Viet Nam, if they had to use a parachute in an emergency situation, would buy the rigger who packed it, either a bottle or a case of whiskey, depending on how much they thought of themselves). Also, the Air Force lives for the pilots. The pilots therefore, live for the riggers. No one messes with the pilots, and no one messes with the riggers. If you see what I'm saying.
I can think of several instances that I had interesting dealings with the PJs on our base. I got to know a few of them but they were a tight group and mostly hung out together. But I can tell you here about these times: My First Packing (of a PJ chute); the Army six man life raft fiasco; the BUFF drag chute incident; the Reassignment Going Away Party.
My First Packing (of a PJ chute)
As I mentioned, packing a PJ chute was different than packing an emergency chute. For one thing, emergency chutes were only packed every 120 days for inspection periods, to be sure they were safe, haven't been tampered with (sabotaged), and to replace parts that are going out of service (which happens to every piece of a chute, every seven years). I won't bother talking about the emergency chute they carry. Typically, they just too low for using an emergency chute anyway.
The most important thing is that a PJ will be jumping a chute that I packed, most likely, that next day, or by the end of the week, for sure. So if you mess up packing it, either they die, are hospitalized, or they may come find you to talk about how you packed it, something you never want to hear, unless they are bringing you a bottle of booze, which also never happens, because for them, these aren't emergency chute, they mean to jump them when they jump them and they had better damn well work.
So I packed my first PJ chute. I was very careful. But in being careful, I was too careful and still ended up getting the chute, which goes into an inner bag, into the pack which is part of the harness. End result is, when the PJ comes down, the "mod" (modification, or hole in the panels of 1.1 ripstop nylon) ends up in the front, rather than the back. The effect is that you come down backward and it's hard to see where you are going or exactly when you are going to touch down.
It's really bad form for a rigger to do this, and mistakes aren't forgivable, or shouldn't be. So I come into work one day and Tech Sgt. Pettina, my boss over both shops, my Parachute Shop in the back, and the Fabric and Rubbergear shop in the front. So I walk in the front door one morning at 7AM and Pete says, "The PJs are looking for you."
I said, "Oh, cool." But Pete says, "No, not really. You packed a chute of theirs and it opened backward. Did you not flip it before you put the chute bag into the pack? He got hurt and he's in the hospital." I said, "Oh, no!" He said, "So, they're looking for you. They're not happy. The guy in the hospital, he's hurt pretty bad."
I went into the back shop and sweated out their arrival. Eventually, they showed up. But I saw them come in the front door, through the upper glass part of the metal door between shops. It dawned on me to head out the back door. So I did. When I got back (after I saw them leave), Pete said, "PJs were asking about you."
This went on for two solid weeks. Finally one day, they came in the front door and I went out the back again. Only this time, one of them was at the back door. I almost ran into him. He said, "Hey, we've been looking for you. Why don't you come back on inside, we'd like to talk to you." I gave up. I walked back into the chute shop.
The other PJs came from the front into the back shop. I knew it was over.
The team leader walked up to me. They are all good looking guys, muscular, in sharp uniforms. Having a team of them trying to track you down is no fun. But by then I just figured, okay, whatever we have to do, let's get it over with.
Their leader walked up to me and I was surrounded. I said, "What can I do for you?"
He said, "You know, you're a hard guy to find, we've been looking for you for two weeks now." I said, "Yeah, I know, sorry about that."
And he says, "I have some things I think you might be interested in."
Perplexed, I said, "Okayyyy... what?"
He said, "We have some things you might want, you have some we want. I thought we could make a trade." I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. No beat down?
"So," I said, "You guys aren't looking for me about what happened with the chute opening up backward?" He looked at me with genuine surprise.
"What? What are you talking about?" I told him what Pete had said. He laughed. "Pete pulled a good one on you. So that's why we couldn't find you for two weeks?" About then, the guy who had jumped that chute, actually walked into the back shop. Laughing, the leader said, "Hell, we thought it was hilarious, we wanted to shake your hand, what a joke that was. And no, he didn't get hurt, did you," he said, looking at the PJ who jumped the chute. He answered.
"No, I didn't get hurt, it sucked though, I couldn't judge when I'd hit the ground and I hit hard but I didn't get hurt. They all thought it was pretty funny thought." Everyone was laughing by now.
"No, don't worry about it. It takes a lot more than that to put one of us in the hospital." And we all had a good laugh about it and ended up making a good trade on some stuff they needed.
The Over Packed PJ Chute
Sadly, I wasn't involved in this caper but it would have pleased me to no end to have been there. One of the PJs was talking to my shop boss, Mike, one day. They came up with a scheme to overpack one of the PJ chutes, then have one of them jump it. Of course, the guy that jumped it, didn't know it was over packed.
What I mean about overpacking the chute is adding content. You see, those chutes are tight and packed hard to begin with. As they are, they are big chutes. But after adding a couple of packs of chaf (aluminum foil confetti that confuses radar), five pounds of talcum powder, and a few rolls of toilet paper, it was a very over packed chute. From what I understand it was a real bear to pack and there was a fear it would burst open before getting jumped. But it held together.
On the day of the jump (I had the day off, much to my regret), everyone, PJ's and the rigger who packed it, went out to the LZ (jump site landing zone) and had folding chairs. Some other guys saw that they were setting up for something so they joined them to see what the spectacle was going to be. They weren't disappointed.
Now, all the told the PJ who jumped the chute, was that there were some modifications done to the chute that they wanted to test. His reaction was, "Uh, okay." And he jumped it. The guys who watched it from below said you could actually hear it pop open. At that point, the PJ jumping the chute said he almost had a heart attack when the chute literally exploded open.
He found himself in a cloud of white, when the talc package broke open, the chaff drifted around and sparkled in the sun and the rolls of toilet paper unraveled and fell away from him; he said he really didn't know what to think, he was just surprised and wondering what the hell happened. Once he was under canopy (and it was a perfect deployment, by the way, the extra stuff didn't affect the inflation whatsoever), he had time to think and realized what must have happened.
The guys on the ground burst into a round of applause, laughter and yelling. It was evidently something to experience however, for the people on the ground watching who had no idea what was about to happen. In the end, everyone, including the PJ who jumped the chute, said they had an incredibly good time. However, the rigger who packed the chute said, he'd never do it again, it was just too hard to get packed up properly.
The Army Six Man Life Raft Fiasco
I had a six man (though it felt like a seven man) life raft that my mother picked up years before. We used it for a while and then she lost interest in it. So I ended up with it. I wasn't really using it anymore either. Though I did use it for SCUBA diving from time to time in the early 70s.
The PJs heard me talking about it and said they would have a use for it and were looking for one. I said well, I had one. They asked if it was in good condition. I told them I didn't know, but as we were the fabric and rubber shop too, we could not only fix it, but also certify it was in good condition.
Not the raft, but kind of like it
I talked to Dan in the front shop and he agreed to help me with it and he'd get some of the trade out of it. Now Dan was trained in this as a primary job, I was training as a Parachute Rigger, and as they wanted us all to be able to do one another's jobs, I was the in the two shops to cross train. But I wanted some help and more experience helping me. PJs weren't the guys you cut corners with. We worked on anything in the front shop, from 1 man life rafts, to 20 man life rafts, environmental suits, thermo nuclear flash radiation barrier curtains for aircraft windows, to upholstering things.
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| 20 man packed raft |
20 man life raft
One man life raft
So I brought in my Olive Drab (OD) green life raft and we blew it up to proper Pounds Per Square inch (PSI) pressures specs. And we found leaks. We found some rubbed spots, some fairly good sized damage. I had used it some years before as a platform to SCUBA dive off of and it was just getting old on top of it. But, we patched it up and kept working on throughout out the week until finally on Friday, we had it ready. We called the PJs and they came over.
We showed it to them inflated. We assured them it was in good condition. We sucked the air out of it and folded it up while they got the stuff they were trading us for it. They carried it out and we thought that would be the end of it.
Until Monday....
Come Monday, three of the PJs showed up. They were friendly as usual, but said they were not very happy about the condition of the raft. We asked what they meant, because we were sure it was in good shape. Then they told us the story.
They had take it, four of them, to a river race on the Snake River. Many people were there that day for this race. They took four guys and a case of beer with them. As they were going down the river in the race, they thought they had a good chance of winning. Then suddenly, one entire cell of the raft, the entire right side, deflated and suddenly one of them was gone, into the waters of the river.
About this time, Dan and I were not only horrified they had lost a PJ (and what repercussion was that going to be on us, we wondered), but we were also worried about our having certified that the raft were good to the PJs, and how were they going to respond now? They seemed amiable enough, as usual, but they were talking like they weren't happy. And they weren't.
So we questioned them more, we told them we didn't know they were going to take the raft into a river race where there were unknowns like rocks they could rush into and who knows what else, pieces of trees, branches, who knew? They were sweating us pretty good. And then they cracked up laughing.
They told us they knew what they were getting into and they weren't worried about it. The only thing was, who was going to replace that case of beer they lost over the side. I was stunned. I said, "You lost a case of beer?! What about the guy who went into the drink?" They said, "Screw him! What about the beer? We lost a whole case of beer and it was supposed to last the entire race." I asked of the PJ was fine and they pointed to the guy who had gone in the water. He spoke up saying, "Hey, I'm a man! I tried to save the beer, but I had a lot to contend with at the time."
In the end, they said they have a blast and they didn't care that the life raft had blown a cell when they rammed a rock sticking up out of the water and that it was their fault. They said they had a great time and it was worth it, still, they regretted losing that case of beer. After all, the PJ who went into the water would heal, but the beer was now lost forever!
The Notorious B-52 Drag Chute Incident
One day the PJs stopped by after I called them to say that their day chutes were ready. So they came over, hung out a bit killing time like they did sometimes. We always enjoyed them hanging around because they had really positive energy and hearty laughs. This must have been int he morning, because I always packed the BUFF (Big Ugly Fat F*ckers, or if civilians were around, Big Ugly Fat Fellows) chutes, that were used to slow the B-52 bombers when they landed.
These chutes were 232 pounds of ribbon nylon, part of that weight being a 25 pound buckle where the chute attaches to the compartment on the tail of the plane.
When the plane lands, the chute door opens, the pilot chute pops out, catches the wind, inflates, pulls out the main chute (actually, the pilot chute, just as a pilot chute works for a regular sport chute, anchors in the air, and you fall away from it), which inflates and helps the plane to slow down without wasting the engines or brakes having to do all the work. It is an effective and cheaper way to slow the plane down.
These chutes were heavy to haul around on the ground, worse when wet, horrible heavy when they have scooped up snow in them in the Winter times (or a rattle snake in the summer time). Once they scooped up some spent shotgun shells, and the MP's (Military Police) came in one an unannounced inspection with explosives trained dogs and they alerted on the chutes which required a shut down of the shop. This really annoyed our boss, as we were getting behind on our work and it was, after all, only some expended shells.
And the static electricity they could generate was no fun at all. Once put on the table (if they didn't need to be put in the tower, then winched up with a giant hand held drill, which could, if you weren't careful, kicked you across the room if done incorrectly, or break an arm, even), then stretched the length of the table and all the knots removed.
If they chute had been put in the tower to dry using the giant blowers, when they came out, they were fluffy and horribly difficult to get ordered and packed. This is where the static electricity would come in play. If there were a knot in the shroud line, you had to hit it with a rawhide mallet to loosen it up. If it had been wet then dried, let's just say you'd want to have undone the knot ahead of time if possible.
Once they are straightened out and readied on the table, you tied the ribbon shroud off, then orderly put them into the bag in a zigzag fashion as they deploy very fast and like with a regular parachute, crossed nylon lines can cut another line right in half, a dangerous situation.
After that, you fold the canopy into the pack, then stand on the box the pack is in, hold a bar above your head, and jump up and down repeatedly until you can close the pack, and put the large buckle on top. Then you haul or drag the heavy back into another room where they could be accessed to be put on a plane at any time day or night.
That being said, the PJs were kidding around in the shop and we got to talking about how heavy these chutes were. I picked a chute by its side handle, a piece of folded nylon that cold take the weight, there were two on either side, designed for two men to use two hands to pick them up for transport. But I would pick it up using the handle, getting the chute a couple of inches off the ground so I could carry it to the next room. The PJs had obvious muscles. I was a skinny 20 year old kid.
The PJs, being PJs, started talking smack and said, they bet I couldn't lift one on my shoulder. A couple of my guys were there too. So one thing lead to another and we had a bet. One of their guys would put a packed chute on his shoulder for five seconds, before dropping it. Just a gentleman's bet. So I said, okay, you first.
The PJ I'll call Paul, picked up one of the chutes by the two handles. I knew right then, he simply didn't know how to handle something that bulky. I knew two things that gave me an edge. I did this every day, at least four chutes a day, sometimes as many as thirteen, which was a long, and hard work day. Seconds, they weren't used to dealing with something so bulky and it takes experience almost more than strength to move them around.
Paul got the chute up to his knees. He tried to snap it up to his chest, and got it to his waist. He was starting to struggle already. His and my guys were yelling now, and laughing. But Paul was turning too red, his muscles were completely inflated. He was pumped up pretty good. I was getting worried for when it was my turn. My thought was, if a PJ can't do it, I don't have a chance in Hell. Paul took a breath, then snapped the chute up and arched his back, and got it up to his chest... for about four seconds. I was seriously worried about him, he was fully red, straining too much, and then, he dropped it. And there was a round of noise and hoots and hollers.
Then everyone looked at me. Good God, I knew I was in trouble, but I decided to take what I just saw and not make any mistakes I had just seen him make. I knew of NO one who had put a B-52 drag chute on their shoulder, or even got one up to their chest. I mean, why in God's name would anyone want to do that to begin with?
I grabbed the chute by one handle. I lifted it upright, sitting on the pin in the bottom. Then, I grabbed the second handle and lift the entire chute up the side of my body, using the friction and leverage to my advantage. At some point, I knew, I had to just go for it and if I stopped, I'd lose. So, when I was ready, I took a breath, and hefted it up my side, onto my chest, and hesitated, only for maybe half a second, and could feel the full weight of this chute on my chest, knowing I couldn't go this, but not wanting to fail, I simply went for it.
I pushed it, seemingly up into the ceiling, and it moved, it went up to my chest, over the front of my chest, and fell back on my shoulder. God that hurt, but I got it balanced on my shoulder. I went to drop it right away but their leader said, "NO! Five-second count!" What? Seriously? So I had to wait while they counted off the necessary five seconds. Now that I think about it, maybe to help save some face? Finally, regretfully, he said, OK and I dropped it as fast as I could as I moved out of its way.
I was exhausted, but I had done it! I looked at my guys, who were unbelievably excited. I looked at the PJs and they had only admiration in their eyes that were filled with good humor and camaraderie. It was like for even a moment, I was one of them. I loved those guys. I got some slaps on the back and words of congratulations and a hand shake and a grin from the loser.
I could see that Paul felt bad, not because he felt inferior, just that I'm sure, with all his training, he figured he should have been able to heft that chute up on his shoulder, and really, he wasn't much able to get it up to his chest. So I just told him, "Look, really, don't worry about it. I'm sure there are things you do I certainly couldn't do. Besides, I work with these every day and it's mostly about knowing them, understanding how to use leverage them because brute strength, just doesn't work with these bastards."He smiled.
A couple of his own guys agreed with me, telling him that I actually had the advantage since I work with these things every day. He started to feel better, and it was obvious it wasn't that big a deal to him, he just felt like he let his guys down and himself. I pointed out to him to just forget about it. I told him that really, it was mostly about knowing how to handle these heavy chutes and said that I'm used to hauling these things about the shop.
And as proof of that, I pulled a second chute over to the first, then with them side by side and standing between them, I picked them both up, one on either side, and carried them, all 464 pounds of them, out of the packing room, into the main parachute room, and through the adjacent door to the drag chute pickup room, a matter of only about ten feet.
But it was a long ten feet for me. The hard part was sidling them through the normal sized doorways, but I had done it all before actually. It was quite a strain and I was glad I carried it off looking so relaxed. To be honest, I had only recently realized I could do that and was the only guy in the shop I ever saw do it.
They all thought that was pretty funny, and even Paul laughed about it. He knew I was just razzing him and that we were all right about what was being said. That those who work their job, always know their job best, can do it better, and handle their equipment better, than those who do not. After all, wasn't that why they practiced what they did, day in and day out?
What a crazy team of guys, but what a great team to be a part of, if only for a short time, and to have earned their respect.
The Reassignment Going Away Party
PJ Paul, from the last story, got new orders cut. He was the youngest of the PJs on base, and it was time for him to leave the nest and go to a new base. So of course, they had to have a party. The PJs had their shop next to the flight line where the planes lined up to be readied to take off.
They needed access to their Chinook heelos (helicopters) to be able to take of ASAP should the order ever be given and so their shop was right in the middle of everything. I once almost got to sky dive from a Chinook myself, but before I got into the service; having no military ID at the time, it didn't happen. No one really went to their shop unless invited or in the course of their duties. I was only out there once or twice myself.
The main part of the building was a living area of sorts, with a sink area and a couple of refrigerators. They threw their party for Paul by having food, fridges full of beers, and hard alcohol. The party got started and they were having a good time. A couple of the guys, decided to go get their wives and bring them back to join in the party. While they were gone however, things got a bit out of hand. Paul, being young and nervous about a new base, and leaving his pals and his first base ever, partied a little too hardy. That lead the others to follow suit.
So, by time the married guys got back with their wives, they walked into a shop that had several completely naked PJs, drunk, three sheets to the wind as they say, running through the building with alcohol in hand, and rough housing. There stood the wives, in shock, as several of the PJs ran into the main room, stark raving naked and looking, most likely, raving mad and yelling; basically, just having fun. This however, did not sit well with the married PJs and they were furious. They turned their wives around and they all marched out. The PJs inside, just stood there, stunned. Then went back to playing.
The next few days weren't happy as the married PJs had been embarrassed in front of their wives and saw the behavior as simply uncool and unprofessional. Weeks after Paul had moved on to his new base, I heard grumbles still about that party and it simply wasn't mentioned again in their presence. The other PJs who weren't married, pretty much all thought it was downright hilarious, but even they admitted it was cool to do around the wives.
In closing, I can only tell you that these were some of the greatest guys in the world. These were just a few of the things I could fondly remember about the PJs I had the honor to work with and support. These were guys who would do anything for you, they would do anything in order to do their job and save another. They had a good sense of humor, laughed in the face of death, and nothing was too difficult for them. The kind of guys you want watching your back.
I can only say, I'll never forget them. I was lucky enough to know them in peace time, during a period when we were bored, but could have a few laughs. I can think of no others I would want to come get me out of harm's way if I were injured, and I wouldn't want to face them when they were pissed off in battle trying to do their job, being in the way of them doing their job in saving America lives, the lives of American Soldiers, or whomever they had been ordered to go and get out of harm's way.
Thanks for the laughs, guys. I'm proud to have even known you and I hope you all were able to retire safely as healthy and older, PJs.
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