Still wrong...

     I shouldn't ever post numbers. The actual number of years since Ed and I entered boot camp is 67. Ed was there. He gave me the correct number.

    "The USA Basketball Women's National Team, commonly known as Team USA, is governed by USA Basketball and competes in FIBA Americas. The team is by far the most successful in international women's basketball, having won 10 out of the 12 Olympic tournaments it has entered. It has also won 9 of the last 12 World Cups (including the last 4), and 11 titles overall. The team is currently ranked first in the FIBA World Rankings." Wikipedia 

    Today the USA women beat Spain in the quarter finals. They've gone through the tournament without a loss. They play France in the final tomorrow (Sunday) at 2:00 Central Time. These are the two best teams, and USA will have to play their best to win.

Take for alt,

Al

Oops, My Bad

    Michelene correctly identified my mathematical mistake. Yes, she's correct it's 69 years ago I left for boot camp. Reliability with numbers has never been my strong suit. That part, and probably others, of my brain is deficient.  Wow! that's a long time ago meaning I'm really, really old. Can you imagine boot camp in the fifties?

   An email from a new reader in North Dakota who is having trouble posting a comment may suggest that there are now three readers of this blog. The success is almost more that I can stand. This comes as my mind lacks an original thought. Perhaps I'll just post a random picture and hope I have a thought tomorrow.

Takk for alt,

Al

Question answer: Joanne's family were from Opdal and Songne Fjord.

Mortarmen covering their ears in anticipation the mortar blast. To the best of my memory, we had no hearing protection in the Marines. The VA ruled that 10% of my hearing loss was from the Marines. 

Fifty-Seven Years ago!

      This must mean I'm old! One of the clues to my age is when I remember things that happened decades ago. Such a long memory is only possible for old persons. A memory I have in mind is beginning Marine Corps boot camp fifty-seven years ago. My active enlistment began September 18, 1959, a date I never forget. 

    Prior to boot camp I was a rustic provincial. St. Paul, MN., was as far as I had been from my Brookings County, SD., home. Transported by plane to San Diego, CA., for training, the milieu was dramatically different from farm life at home. Surrounded by a coterie of young men whose life experiences were much different than mine, I now lived under strict rules enforced by drill instructors. The physical regimen was intended to shape us physically. Psychologically the intent was to make us fit as functioning parts of larger unit. Some didn't make it. More recruits washed out because of the psychological stress than from being physically unfit. 

   In retrospect enlistment was a good choice. Too immature psychologically, and poorly prepared academically, for college time in the Marines allowed me to mature. Fortunate to serve in peacetime there was never threat to my life. By the end of my enlistment, I'd chosen a path and was prepared to accomplish what was needed to achieve it.  

Takk for alt,

Al

Assigned to duty on aircraft carrier, the USS Princeton, we were frequently ferried to land by helicopter. The strap across the opening substituted for a door.

Sometimes I sympathize with Rat.

 

  

        When I was new in the OFH I accepted an invitation to the weekly men's coffee hour. There were about twelve of us sitting in a circle. The bulk of the hour was listening to one expound on why we should volunteer at the St. Paul Saints Baseball games. No, I didn't go back. Twice a week there's a Happy Hour in the club lounge at the OFH. When I arrived, there were about twenty persons sitting in a circle. Sitting down at a small table I hoped someone would join me for conversation. Those gathered at the table wouldn't rest until I joined them. For an hour one person talked about his military experience. No, I didn't go back. Veteran's Social Hour at the OFH was about six persons around a round table having an interesting conversation. The group has grown to twelve or fifteen persons, two of whom do 95% of the speaking. No longer do I attend.

A female acquaintance started a Women's Social here in the OFH. When she asked me for suggestions for it, I suggested arranging chairs in smaller conversation groups, which she thought was a good idea. Later when I asked her how that worked, she said, "The women didn't like it because they couldn't hear what everyone said"

    Yes, I'm different, that's clear. One of the sweet privileges of adulthood is the right to vote with one's body. My body votes to be absent from circle time.

Takk for alt,

Al 

Garage Cleaning!

    Smugness goes before a fall. I'd planned to return to The Little House today but delayed my departure.  Tomorrow is garage cleaning day at the OFH. All smug I thought I'd be gone to avoid it. Then with delayed departure I joined the inmates in finding outdoor parking. If a person has a spot in the parking lot and leaves upon return who knows where he/she will be able to park.

   This is what passes for trouble in the OFH. If it doesn't get any worse than this.....

Takk for alt,

Al

If Odie can't find a toy he carries his blanket, anything to play!

Exploring!

    The move to the OFH a few years ago not only put me in St. Paul for the first time it also placed me in the Highland Park neighborhood. It's a very interesting neighborhood. We've been exploring local restaurants such as Bennet's and Cosetta's.  Tonight we went to the old Italian classic DeGidio's. It was a treat. The ambiance is inviting, it's quiet, the food is superb, the prices modest and it's nearby. A good time was had by all and that includes Al! 

Takk for alt,

Al

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