....but that's what happens when one starts posting one's memoirs. ;-)
J/K
I've always wanted to put things on paper that I thought my son and someday maybe my grandkids might want to know about me. I know so little about my father's life and regret that. When I was little, he told me a lot of bedtime stories. I especially loved the ones he told me about his time in the Navy, which was sometime during World War II. I remember a few thing, but it's not much. I don't even know what ships he served on.
Last April I started this blog and every once in a while, I'd write something about my past and some of you seem to like it. The last week or so, I talked a little about my life in Vietnam and received comment about how some of you are sorry your father's won't tell you about their experiences in Nam. That made me think about my regrets concerning my father's military service. Then one thing lead to another and now I'm telling as much as I can remember about that time of my life. I know there long, but that's just the way it is, I'm trying for as much details as possible. I'm not very good at describing things like a "real" author or they would be even longer, be grateful at that at least. ;-)
I have no idea where this will lead, or what I'll eventually do with my stories, except maybe share them with my son, and you guys of course. Just please bare with me and skip them if you get bored. I promise I'll still post my usual blabbering and naked man ass pictures just like I have been.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
GOOD MORNING VIETNAM! Chapter Two
Chapter 2: My On the Job Training Starts
Bien Hoa Airbase
http://www.vhpamuseum.org
When the door of the plane was opened, we disembarked and began walking down the stairs to the tarmac. We went from the comfortable air-conditioned plane into the very hot, muggy, oppressive heat and became instantly drenched in sweat. The air was thick with so many new smells and sounds. There were the never-ending sounds of jets and choppers taking off and landing and the trucks and jeeps that were always on the move. There were so many new smells permeating the air but the one I remember most, the one smell that these some 37 years later instantly brings me back to that time, was the smell of diesel fuel. To this day, whenever I catch a whiff of diesel, I am instantly taken back to that time and transformed into that young soldier again.
http://www.gingerb.com
We were walking toward a building still in awe of what was all around us, when all of a sudden we heard an explosion, then another. Someone started yelling, “Get inside, get inside! Double time, double time!" We were rushed inside the building to a holding area. “OMG! What the fuck is happening?” I said to no one in particular as I ran for the building. Once inside, I saw a lot of people just going about their business like nothing was happening. No one was panicking, its as if no one even knew what was going on outside.
“Okay, calm down!” someone in green jungle fatigues yells out. “It’s over now, so calm down!” Sure enough, it was over, it ended as quickly as it began. The man in the fatigues explained that the airport had been under attack by rockets, that these kinds of attacks happened almost everyday, sometimes more than once. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. "Yeah, right", I thought, "I’ll never get used to that." Little did I know that really I would get used to it just like he said we would.
Off to one side in this holding area was a group of men that were waiting to catch the plane we just got off. They made through the year and now where going home. I remember thinking, would I make it back here in a year to catch that flight back? No time to think, time for another bus ride.
90th Replacement Center at Long Binh
http://saito56.blogster.com/
They took us outside where we boarded some more buses. These had screens over all the windows just in case someone tried to throw a hand grenade or something like that through one of them. The bus took us to the 90th Replacement Center in Long Binh where we went through in processing that lasted most of the night. We were assigned a bunk to catch a little sleep and were up early to eat breakfast and then stand in formation. Formation was held a couple of times a day to assign us to our units. I was assigned to the 25th Infantry Division at Cu Chi.
When my name was called, I was put on a C-130 cargo plane for the flight to the base camp in Cu Chi. It was like a small city. It had every type of facility there was in small cities; swimming pools, bars, slot machines in the bars, a hospital, stores and even saunas. I remember thinking why in the world would they have saunas in such a hot, muggy place? "(massages,hee hee!)
I spent a week in Cu Chi going through in-processing and for some specialized training. This training was to teach us the things we needed to know that were not taught in basic training and AIT, like standing "real" guard duty and crawling through a tunnel. After that week at Cu Chi, I was assigned to the 2nd platoon, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 12 Infantry, 25th Infantry Division; B 2/12 as they called it. A group of us got on a supply chopper for the flight to Fire Support Base Pershing, eight miles northwest of Cu Chi in the middle of some rice paddies somewhere.
FSB Pershing was a battalion size base camp with four companies of infantry and an artillery and mortar battery. I wasn't at Pershing very long, about a week or so, so I didn't see very much of it. Here are a few pictures I found on the internet at http://www.212veterans.org.
Landing Zone Outside FSB Pershing
View of FSB Pershing
105mm Howitzer
4 1/2 Inch Mortar
Mess Tent
http://www.gingerb.com
Just before dark that first night, I was sent over to man a bunker, pretty much like the one in the this picture. As you can see, bunkers are really nothing more that a pile of sandbags with a small doorway and a few small holes to look out of. The bunker I was sent to, was usually manned by a few guys in another platoon, but they were sent out on a night ambush patrol that night. There was no one else in it at the time. I was told someone else would be over in a little while and we were to take turns keeping watch that night. That's how every night was, you take turns sleeping and stand watch.
Now picture this, here I am on my first night out in the field, about a million miles from home, in only God knows where, inside a pile of sandbags in total darkness, staring out through a small hole in the front of this pile of sandbags. Since this my first night out in the field, I had no idea what to expect. I was truly scared to death.
Not long goes by and there was a loud explosion somewhere behind my bunker. Next thing I know, flares are going off in the sky lighting the entire area of the perimeter up to the woods.
I scan the horizon searching for the enemy but didn't see any. Then there's another explosion; I’m practically shitting in my pants about now. Just then, someone dashes inside the bunker. Thank God, I’m not alone anymore. I look over quickly at the guy, but don’t see him carrying a weapon.
"Where’s your weapon?”
“I don’t carry one, I’m a medic.”
Oh, that’s great, this guy has no weapon. But then I thought, “Oh well, if I get wounded at least there’s a medic close by."
I look back outside through that little hole in the front of the bunker and Doc looks out of the second little hole. We keep our eyes glued to those little the holes. It all stopped after about 4 or 5 explosions.
It wasn’t very long before I heard a helicopter land in the landing zone in the picture above. I was to find out the next day, that the chopper was a medivac and the explosions I heard were from a rocket attack. Someone came by a few minutes later to see if we were alright. He also brought a radio and told us that about every half-hour, someone would call our position and we were to respond with “Sitrap negative”, meaning no trouble, or “Sitrap positive” if there was any. Then he leaves us. The enemy never did attack that night, and the rest of the night it was quiet.
While I was at Pershing that short time, these kinds of attacks happened pretty much every night, but with mortars that never even hit inside the base camp. The enemy would guess the range from somewhere beyond the tree line and fire a few shells in our general direction, always landing out in the rice paddies somewhere. After a few days, I got used to them like the guy in fatigues at Bien Hoa said we would and just learned to accept them as a fact of life over there.
Bien Hoa Airbase
http://www.vhpamuseum.org
When the door of the plane was opened, we disembarked and began walking down the stairs to the tarmac. We went from the comfortable air-conditioned plane into the very hot, muggy, oppressive heat and became instantly drenched in sweat. The air was thick with so many new smells and sounds. There were the never-ending sounds of jets and choppers taking off and landing and the trucks and jeeps that were always on the move. There were so many new smells permeating the air but the one I remember most, the one smell that these some 37 years later instantly brings me back to that time, was the smell of diesel fuel. To this day, whenever I catch a whiff of diesel, I am instantly taken back to that time and transformed into that young soldier again.
http://www.gingerb.com
We were walking toward a building still in awe of what was all around us, when all of a sudden we heard an explosion, then another. Someone started yelling, “Get inside, get inside! Double time, double time!" We were rushed inside the building to a holding area. “OMG! What the fuck is happening?” I said to no one in particular as I ran for the building. Once inside, I saw a lot of people just going about their business like nothing was happening. No one was panicking, its as if no one even knew what was going on outside.
“Okay, calm down!” someone in green jungle fatigues yells out. “It’s over now, so calm down!” Sure enough, it was over, it ended as quickly as it began. The man in the fatigues explained that the airport had been under attack by rockets, that these kinds of attacks happened almost everyday, sometimes more than once. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. "Yeah, right", I thought, "I’ll never get used to that." Little did I know that really I would get used to it just like he said we would.
Off to one side in this holding area was a group of men that were waiting to catch the plane we just got off. They made through the year and now where going home. I remember thinking, would I make it back here in a year to catch that flight back? No time to think, time for another bus ride.
90th Replacement Center at Long Binh
http://saito56.blogster.com/
They took us outside where we boarded some more buses. These had screens over all the windows just in case someone tried to throw a hand grenade or something like that through one of them. The bus took us to the 90th Replacement Center in Long Binh where we went through in processing that lasted most of the night. We were assigned a bunk to catch a little sleep and were up early to eat breakfast and then stand in formation. Formation was held a couple of times a day to assign us to our units. I was assigned to the 25th Infantry Division at Cu Chi.
When my name was called, I was put on a C-130 cargo plane for the flight to the base camp in Cu Chi. It was like a small city. It had every type of facility there was in small cities; swimming pools, bars, slot machines in the bars, a hospital, stores and even saunas. I remember thinking why in the world would they have saunas in such a hot, muggy place? "(massages,hee hee!)
25th Division Base Camp at Cu Chi
I spent a week in Cu Chi going through in-processing and for some specialized training. This training was to teach us the things we needed to know that were not taught in basic training and AIT, like standing "real" guard duty and crawling through a tunnel. After that week at Cu Chi, I was assigned to the 2nd platoon, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion, 12 Infantry, 25th Infantry Division; B 2/12 as they called it. A group of us got on a supply chopper for the flight to Fire Support Base Pershing, eight miles northwest of Cu Chi in the middle of some rice paddies somewhere.FSB Pershing was a battalion size base camp with four companies of infantry and an artillery and mortar battery. I wasn't at Pershing very long, about a week or so, so I didn't see very much of it. Here are a few pictures I found on the internet at http://www.212veterans.org.
Landing Zone Outside FSB Pershing
View of FSB Pershing
105mm Howitzer
4 1/2 Inch Mortar
Mess Tent
http://www.gingerb.com
Just before dark that first night, I was sent over to man a bunker, pretty much like the one in the this picture. As you can see, bunkers are really nothing more that a pile of sandbags with a small doorway and a few small holes to look out of. The bunker I was sent to, was usually manned by a few guys in another platoon, but they were sent out on a night ambush patrol that night. There was no one else in it at the time. I was told someone else would be over in a little while and we were to take turns keeping watch that night. That's how every night was, you take turns sleeping and stand watch.Now picture this, here I am on my first night out in the field, about a million miles from home, in only God knows where, inside a pile of sandbags in total darkness, staring out through a small hole in the front of this pile of sandbags. Since this my first night out in the field, I had no idea what to expect. I was truly scared to death.
Not long goes by and there was a loud explosion somewhere behind my bunker. Next thing I know, flares are going off in the sky lighting the entire area of the perimeter up to the woods.
I scan the horizon searching for the enemy but didn't see any. Then there's another explosion; I’m practically shitting in my pants about now. Just then, someone dashes inside the bunker. Thank God, I’m not alone anymore. I look over quickly at the guy, but don’t see him carrying a weapon."Where’s your weapon?”
“I don’t carry one, I’m a medic.”
Oh, that’s great, this guy has no weapon. But then I thought, “Oh well, if I get wounded at least there’s a medic close by."
I look back outside through that little hole in the front of the bunker and Doc looks out of the second little hole. We keep our eyes glued to those little the holes. It all stopped after about 4 or 5 explosions.
It wasn’t very long before I heard a helicopter land in the landing zone in the picture above. I was to find out the next day, that the chopper was a medivac and the explosions I heard were from a rocket attack. Someone came by a few minutes later to see if we were alright. He also brought a radio and told us that about every half-hour, someone would call our position and we were to respond with “Sitrap negative”, meaning no trouble, or “Sitrap positive” if there was any. Then he leaves us. The enemy never did attack that night, and the rest of the night it was quiet.
While I was at Pershing that short time, these kinds of attacks happened pretty much every night, but with mortars that never even hit inside the base camp. The enemy would guess the range from somewhere beyond the tree line and fire a few shells in our general direction, always landing out in the rice paddies somewhere. After a few days, I got used to them like the guy in fatigues at Bien Hoa said we would and just learned to accept them as a fact of life over there.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
GOOD MORNING VIETNAM! Chapter One
Since some of you seem to enjoy my stories so much, here is another one from the archives of my life. This one covers most of the time between the day I was drafted into Uncle Sam’s Army, to sometime after I was wounded in Vietnam. This is a really long story so I'm posting this one in chapters.
Chapter 1: May 6 to October 6, 1968
I was drafted into the United States Army on May 6, 1968 at the ripe old age of 19 years, 6 months and two days. Government policy at the time was to draft all men into the military at 19 ½ years of age if they hadn’t already joined or had a deferment of some kind. I almost joined earlier that year, but backed out to take my chances with the draft.
Although draftees were a small minority (16%) in the U.S. armed forces, they comprised the bulk of infantry riflemen in Vietnam (88% in 1969). They accounted for more than half the army's battle deaths. Because of student and other deferments, the draft and the casualties fell disproportionately upon working-class youths, black and white.
My father and stepmother drove me down to the draft board office in Smithtown NY that morning where I checked in and was put on a bus for the ride to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn for induction. I remember staring out the window during the ride into Brooklyn wondering if I would live through this adventure and make it back home again after it was all over.
We arrived in at Fort Hamilton about an hour or so later, where we were interviewed and given a short physical. They asked a lot of questions to try and find out if we were medically fit, gay or mentally challenged. Not surprisingly, some were turned down. Those that were accepted, me included, were sent into in a room with lines painted on the floor and a large American flag in front. We were told to line up along the lines and then “asked” to step forward to "voluntarily" be sworn in.
At the final phase of the induction process, a military recruiting officer will order the Registrant, and any other Registrants present, to "line up on the line.” (a line, or several lines, is/are painted on the floor). A military recruiting officer will then order all those "joining the army,” (or whatever) to “take one step forward” … THOSE WHO LINE UP AS ORDERED AND TAKE ONE STEP FORWARD JUST "VOLUNTEERED!" BY TAKING ONE STEP FORWARD, YOU CONVERT YOUR "REGISTRANT" STATUS INTO THAT OF AN "INDUCTEE"!!!!
The oath is administered:"I, (state your name) do solemnly swear that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution of the United States of America and will defend it against all enemies foreign and domestic, and will obey the orders of the President and the officers appointed over me, so help me God."
Well, that was it, I was now the property of the United States Army. We were then lead out of the room and broken down into smaller groups depending where we were assigned. I was assigned to Fort Jackson in South Carolina, where ever that was. My group got on a bus for the ride to JFK airport in Queens. When our plane landed in Columbia South Carolina a few hours later, we were met by from the Army and put on another bus for the ride to Fort Jackson where the fun really started.
As soon as the bus pulled to a stop in front of the Reception Center, the meanest man I’ve ever come in contact with up to that point in my young life, jumps on the bus and starts yelling and screaming orders. “OFF THE BUS! DOUBLE TIME! LINE UP!" and all kind of crap like that.
I spent one week at the reception center where we were given haircuts, tested a lot and were issued our uniforms. Then it was off to 8 weeks of basic training (where I met much more mean men). Next it was 8 weeks of Advanced Individual Training (AIT) not to far from where I took basic training (the men were a lot less mean here, but not nice by a long shot) where we were actually taught to be infantryman. I graduated from AIT with the rank of PFC, issued my orders for Vietnam and then given 30 days leave.
When my leave was over I caught a plane out of JFK airport in Queens bound for San Francisco California. I spent one night in a hotel room crammed in with about 8 other guys. I slept on the floor that night. The next morning I reported to the Oakland Army Terminal to begin my processing for deployment to Vietnam. I spent a few days in Oakland before getting my orders and then boarded another bus ride to the airport where we boarded a Flying Tiger Airlines plane and headed out across the Pacific on a 25 hour plane ride.
Our first stop was in Hawaii where they refueled and changed crews. We were sent to a deserted terminal while this happened, where they could keep an eye on us. When we got back on the plane, attendance was taken and one guy had bailed. Next stop was Midway Island for refueling. Midway is literally just an airstrip in the middle of a lot of small islands. We were suppose to stop in Guam next, but a typhoon diverted us to the Philippines instead. Here they refueled and changed flight crews. The whole time up to now, we flew with the sun in daylight, but the rest of the way was in the dark.
Things got pretty quite on this last leg of our journey because reality was setting in fast. I did manage to sleep a little, but mostly I just did a lot of thinking and trying to imagine what was in store. Once over Vietnam, the stewardess announced we were over the country and to wake up and get ready for landing. I remember looking out the window; I had a window seat, and seeing the vast darkness and every once in a while, a small point of light.
It wasn’t long before we were landing at Bien Hoa airbase in Vietnam which about 20 miles northeast of Saigon. The date was October 6, 1968 somewhere around 11:00 at night if I remember correctly. Just before getting off the plane, the flight crew thanked us for flying Flying Tiger Airlines and said something like “We hope to see all of you back with us in a year for the ride home”. We all looked at each other wondering which of us here wouldn’t make that flight back to the "World".
Bien Hoa Air Base was located 20 mi (30 km) NE of Saigon and near the infamous LBJ (Long Bien jail), which was the in-country military prison compound. Bien Hoa was also a huge munitions storage area. The base itself was upgraded from an old French post, and still had many of the old French buildings and small concrete bunkers scattered around the perimeter.
Chapter 1: May 6 to October 6, 1968
I was drafted into the United States Army on May 6, 1968 at the ripe old age of 19 years, 6 months and two days. Government policy at the time was to draft all men into the military at 19 ½ years of age if they hadn’t already joined or had a deferment of some kind. I almost joined earlier that year, but backed out to take my chances with the draft.Although draftees were a small minority (16%) in the U.S. armed forces, they comprised the bulk of infantry riflemen in Vietnam (88% in 1969). They accounted for more than half the army's battle deaths. Because of student and other deferments, the draft and the casualties fell disproportionately upon working-class youths, black and white.
My father and stepmother drove me down to the draft board office in Smithtown NY that morning where I checked in and was put on a bus for the ride to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn for induction. I remember staring out the window during the ride into Brooklyn wondering if I would live through this adventure and make it back home again after it was all over.
We arrived in at Fort Hamilton about an hour or so later, where we were interviewed and given a short physical. They asked a lot of questions to try and find out if we were medically fit, gay or mentally challenged. Not surprisingly, some were turned down. Those that were accepted, me included, were sent into in a room with lines painted on the floor and a large American flag in front. We were told to line up along the lines and then “asked” to step forward to "voluntarily" be sworn in.
At the final phase of the induction process, a military recruiting officer will order the Registrant, and any other Registrants present, to "line up on the line.” (a line, or several lines, is/are painted on the floor). A military recruiting officer will then order all those "joining the army,” (or whatever) to “take one step forward” … THOSE WHO LINE UP AS ORDERED AND TAKE ONE STEP FORWARD JUST "VOLUNTEERED!" BY TAKING ONE STEP FORWARD, YOU CONVERT YOUR "REGISTRANT" STATUS INTO THAT OF AN "INDUCTEE"!!!!
The oath is administered:"I, (state your name) do solemnly swear that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution of the United States of America and will defend it against all enemies foreign and domestic, and will obey the orders of the President and the officers appointed over me, so help me God."
Well, that was it, I was now the property of the United States Army. We were then lead out of the room and broken down into smaller groups depending where we were assigned. I was assigned to Fort Jackson in South Carolina, where ever that was. My group got on a bus for the ride to JFK airport in Queens. When our plane landed in Columbia South Carolina a few hours later, we were met by from the Army and put on another bus for the ride to Fort Jackson where the fun really started.As soon as the bus pulled to a stop in front of the Reception Center, the meanest man I’ve ever come in contact with up to that point in my young life, jumps on the bus and starts yelling and screaming orders. “OFF THE BUS! DOUBLE TIME! LINE UP!" and all kind of crap like that.
I spent one week at the reception center where we were given haircuts, tested a lot and were issued our uniforms. Then it was off to 8 weeks of basic training (where I met much more mean men). Next it was 8 weeks of Advanced Individual Training (AIT) not to far from where I took basic training (the men were a lot less mean here, but not nice by a long shot) where we were actually taught to be infantryman. I graduated from AIT with the rank of PFC, issued my orders for Vietnam and then given 30 days leave.
When my leave was over I caught a plane out of JFK airport in Queens bound for San Francisco California. I spent one night in a hotel room crammed in with about 8 other guys. I slept on the floor that night. The next morning I reported to the Oakland Army Terminal to begin my processing for deployment to Vietnam. I spent a few days in Oakland before getting my orders and then boarded another bus ride to the airport where we boarded a Flying Tiger Airlines plane and headed out across the Pacific on a 25 hour plane ride.Our first stop was in Hawaii where they refueled and changed crews. We were sent to a deserted terminal while this happened, where they could keep an eye on us. When we got back on the plane, attendance was taken and one guy had bailed. Next stop was Midway Island for refueling. Midway is literally just an airstrip in the middle of a lot of small islands. We were suppose to stop in Guam next, but a typhoon diverted us to the Philippines instead. Here they refueled and changed flight crews. The whole time up to now, we flew with the sun in daylight, but the rest of the way was in the dark.
Things got pretty quite on this last leg of our journey because reality was setting in fast. I did manage to sleep a little, but mostly I just did a lot of thinking and trying to imagine what was in store. Once over Vietnam, the stewardess announced we were over the country and to wake up and get ready for landing. I remember looking out the window; I had a window seat, and seeing the vast darkness and every once in a while, a small point of light.
It wasn’t long before we were landing at Bien Hoa airbase in Vietnam which about 20 miles northeast of Saigon. The date was October 6, 1968 somewhere around 11:00 at night if I remember correctly. Just before getting off the plane, the flight crew thanked us for flying Flying Tiger Airlines and said something like “We hope to see all of you back with us in a year for the ride home”. We all looked at each other wondering which of us here wouldn’t make that flight back to the "World".
Bien Hoa Air Base was located 20 mi (30 km) NE of Saigon and near the infamous LBJ (Long Bien jail), which was the in-country military prison compound. Bien Hoa was also a huge munitions storage area. The base itself was upgraded from an old French post, and still had many of the old French buildings and small concrete bunkers scattered around the perimeter.
Friday, November 18, 2005
You surprised me yesterday
I really expected that most of you would think the scar I posted yesterday was gross, but you surprised me. I only got one kinda gross, but a lot of "awesome, proud, brave, thank you, wow, nice ass, wicked scar, it rocks, must have hurt", things like that.
THANK YOU ALL SO VERY, VERY MUCH!!!!!! YOU ALL ARE AWESOME!!!!!!
I have gotten more "Thank you's" and "I'm proud of you's" in the last week, than I did in all the years since coming back from Vietnam. I am truly blown away. No pun intended. ;-)
I am very touched, I really am. If I could, I would give all you ladies hugs and shake all the guys hands. Well, a couple of the cuter guys I might hug. ;-)
Ooo, Ooo! Wait! I can give you all hugs after all! Remember? We are setting up a HNT get together and could I hug you all there. Now I'm really psyched for this trip!
If any of you HNT friends want to know more about our HNT get together, visit this blog for more info. Our lovely Addict will be more than glad to assist you. I would love to see you all.
Wait! One more thing! Believe it or not, being "sort of blown up" really didn't hurt that much. It was more of an uncomfortable feeling than hurting. I'll make a post about being wounded and tell you the whole story if you want. Interested hearing more of my dribble?
THANK YOU ALL SO VERY, VERY MUCH!!!!!! YOU ALL ARE AWESOME!!!!!!
I have gotten more "Thank you's" and "I'm proud of you's" in the last week, than I did in all the years since coming back from Vietnam. I am truly blown away. No pun intended. ;-)
I am very touched, I really am. If I could, I would give all you ladies hugs and shake all the guys hands. Well, a couple of the cuter guys I might hug. ;-)
Ooo, Ooo! Wait! I can give you all hugs after all! Remember? We are setting up a HNT get together and could I hug you all there. Now I'm really psyched for this trip!
If any of you HNT friends want to know more about our HNT get together, visit this blog for more info. Our lovely Addict will be more than glad to assist you. I would love to see you all.
Wait! One more thing! Believe it or not, being "sort of blown up" really didn't hurt that much. It was more of an uncomfortable feeling than hurting. I'll make a post about being wounded and tell you the whole story if you want. Interested hearing more of my dribble?
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Want to see a picture of my ass this HNT?
If you do, for this weeks HNT picture you'll also have to stomach a picture of the scar in, yes in, my left hip. It's not exactly pretty, far from it actually, but it's part of me and I'm proud of it. I have a bunch of scars, this being the largest, as a result of my being sort of blown up during my short tenure in South Vietnam in 1968. Go back a few posts to read a short synopsis of that adventure and see a few pictures.
A side shot of my ass.
Yeah, yeah, I know the scar is gross, but suck it up!
A side shot of my ass.
Yeah, yeah, I know the scar is gross, but suck it up!
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
I think this is a great idea
Hanging out with friends, drinking a few brews and listening to a some tunes.
Nursing home keeps spirits up with own pub
DUBLIN (Reuters) - A nursing home in Ireland has hit on a cheering way to keep up the spirits of its elderly patients -- by providing its own pub.
St Mary's Hospital in County Monaghan, near the Irish border with Northern Ireland, believes ready access to a good pint may help its patients -- average age 85 -- actually live longer.
"We would say the whole social aspect of life does extend the years -- it means the patients aren't bored to death," Rose Mooney, assistant director of nursing told Reuters.
The pub, which opens at 11 a.m. and closes at 9 p.m. and charges normal bar prices, had also led to an increase in the number of visitors, she said.
Having its own bar made the hospital, which has around 140 patients, unique in Ireland, she added.
© Reuters 2005. All Rights Reserved.
Nursing home keeps spirits up with own pub
DUBLIN (Reuters) - A nursing home in Ireland has hit on a cheering way to keep up the spirits of its elderly patients -- by providing its own pub.
St Mary's Hospital in County Monaghan, near the Irish border with Northern Ireland, believes ready access to a good pint may help its patients -- average age 85 -- actually live longer.
"We would say the whole social aspect of life does extend the years -- it means the patients aren't bored to death," Rose Mooney, assistant director of nursing told Reuters.
The pub, which opens at 11 a.m. and closes at 9 p.m. and charges normal bar prices, had also led to an increase in the number of visitors, she said.
Having its own bar made the hospital, which has around 140 patients, unique in Ireland, she added.
© Reuters 2005. All Rights Reserved.
Monday, November 14, 2005
This Is My Life
This is my life now.
This was my life before Barbara got sick and we were having all that fun with boating.
I think my score today, isn't that bad considering how my life has been going the last few years. Do you?
I really am optimistic that the numbers will come up again someday, but folks, how are we going to do that? Any ideas?
Credit: I found this on Kaliblue's blog.
| This Is My Life, Rated | |
| Life: |  5.3 |
| Mind: |  6.2 |
| Body: | 4.9 |
| Spirit: |  7.9 |
| Friends/Family: |  2.5 |
| Love: |  0 |
| Finance: | 7.8 |
| Take the Rate My Life Quiz | |
This was my life before Barbara got sick and we were having all that fun with boating.
| This Is My Life, Rated | |
| Life: | 7.4 |
| Mind: |  7.1 |
| Body: | 5.5 |
| Spirit: | 8 |
| Friends/Family: | 6.6 |
| Love: |  9.1 |
| Finance: | 7.9 |
| Take the Rate My Life Quiz | |
I think my score today, isn't that bad considering how my life has been going the last few years. Do you?
I really am optimistic that the numbers will come up again someday, but folks, how are we going to do that? Any ideas?
Credit: I found this on Kaliblue's blog.
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