Our trash compactor broke down for the third time. It was time to bite the bullet. For such a small piece of essential equipment $7oo. So we went on Craigslist. A used compactor was out of the question. But a brand new unused one for $500 dollars a risk. Worse yet it was across the bay a hours ride in Bremerton. Sure enough the area was hard to find. We were beginning to wonder about our sanity. I rang the bell. Isaac and Mom answered the front door. He led us downstairs. The phone rang and Mom went to answer it. Isaacs younger sister as he told us not yet two was giving me the lift signal. Hand in the air in submission. I was doing the under the tongue yodle when Mom returned. What a adorable kids. Issac stood hands on hips saying, "I am Isaac, I am three". Three fingers in the air, "August fourth I will be four!" Four fingers in the air.
Next thing I knew Isaac was leading Sharon outside to look for worms. I am holding this adorable baby. Mom says, "Well what do you think?" It obviously had not been used. But these are not my usual decisions, "Looks like a good deal to me." We exchanged monies and put the baby in a crib and loaded the compactor in the truck. It was too hot for worm hunting and Issac and Sharon were tossing a rubber football in the front yard. As they were returning to the truck I heard Isaac say, "Sharon would you be my Grandma?" She had a friend for life. But we had a long drive to get home. So we opened the door and climbed in the truck. Isaac was not happy. Sharon rolled down the window and he said, "Grandma Sharon, you did not even say goodbye!"
So we said goodbye Isaac. He was standing at the door, "You did not give me a hug Grandma Sharon. She hugged him and I was Uncle Dan, and I hugged him. Then he was satisfied waving happily goodbye.
That's when Sharon said to me, "Did you even look at the compactor?" And I said it was unused, "I mean damage to the outside." Of course not Isaac had both our hearts. But it worked out perfectly. When I got home I told my wife, "I'm going to the store before I forget to get Isaac a birthday card." While in line I bought a $10 McDonalds gift certificate. To days after Isaacs birthday a thank you card arrived. It was homemade. Thanks to Grandma Sharon and Uncle Dan. He had gone to Mcdonalds play area and had ice cream.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
LEARNING TO DRIVE
Our family never owned an automoble until the sixth grade. Dad was a drunk and coal truck driver. His mode of transportation a ten ton coal truck. The first time I was behind the wheel of a vehicle I was five or six. I was literally behind the steering wheel. My father loved in a drunken state to scare Mom and us kids. He would put me on his lap do the shifting and braking but I had to steer the truck. I remember the big hill in Kent flying over bumps and crying begging Dad to take the wheel. In the sixth grade his father died and left him some money. He bought a 1948 Buick. For the first time we were not all cramped in the front seat of a ten ton coal truck. We had one two week vacation to Knox Berry Farm and a month afterwards My Grandmother and Grandfather came to get us kids. Mom was in critical condition the Buick was destroyed and who cared where dad might be.
I was in the military the next time I found myself behind the wheel of a vehicle. It was stationed Randolph Air Force base and I was a emergency room corpsman at the Hospital. My friend and I were off duty and had gone into town to see a movie. Emergency vehicles were pouring one by one out the front gate. Our bus was stopped by Air Policemen, "And medics on board?" We were transported with lights flashing to the hospital. Sergeant Major met us at the door, "Anderson take the ambulance over there and head out the gate. turn right you can't miss where you are going. Dandy you take the off wheel Hummer. It is all we got." And, "Whose driving?" I couldn't believe the reply, "You are!" and my but, "You don't need a license you are licensed by the military. Just get there." So my second vehicle of choosing was an eighteen shift off road hummer with red cross on the side. I figured out how to get the red light on but never how to get it out of second gear. I had a long line of upset drivers following me at fifteen to twenty miles an hour by the time I got to the scene of the wreck.
It was one of the worst wrecks I have ever seen. Forty to fifty high school kids were riding high on hay in a hayride truck. Two blocks they had to use the main highway. A man in back was waving a lantern to warn off approaching traffic. Three drunks rounded the corner at ninety plus and rear ended the wagon. Kids were thrown through the air everywhere. Some landed in a small creek nearby. I heard the guy with the lantern lost both his legs but did not die. There were four or five who did die and many in critical condition. My friend received several citations for his valor. When he arrived he told me later Medical corpsman and Doctors and Nurses were standing around in shock at what they were seeing. By the time I arrived the most serious had been rushed to hospitals. I had eight to ten with the least injuries. With a young farm boy sitting beside me talking me through each shift and sirens going I was able to get up to a speed of forty miles per hour. The accident made national news.
No one wanted to transfer me into driving ambulances. Four years in the military I never needed a drivers license. The next vehicle I was to drive without a license was a Greyhound bus. At Central Washington College I used all my savings to pay for two years of College. Jobs were hard to find and I had one at Greyhound Bus line unloading buses. When the layoffs came at Greyhound I had enough seniority to work cleaning buses. Part of the job of maintenance was to ensure the bus had oil and lubrication. The last part of the job was to take the bus on the freeway and check it for driving performance. I told one of the other mechanics, "I don't have a driver's license, "Shush, you want to lose your job. It's a piece of cake." OK, there were no passengers and the Senacruisers. You can see forever but really hard to park.
My future wife had a drivers license and her dad's car. She was tired of driving me. So one day she drove me downtown Seattle on one of the steepest hills. Put the car in park and came around to the passenger side, "You are driving." But, cars were honking behind us and she was not moving. I squeeled the tires and I think I took out second gear but I got us home. I got a permit and the first day without second gear took a driver's test. He had me parallel park on a hill with a tiny spot to back into. I think I scared the hell out of him. Had me drive back to the license area taking out four cones and said, "If you can back into that space without second gear you will learn the rest." Next day there was a light mist. I saw the light changing from green to yellow. A cop car was sitting at the intersection. I applied the brakes. The car spun in circles and came to rest in the same direction but on the wrong side of the road from the cop car. He rolled down his window and with a frightened look on his face said, "You stay right there!" Turned on his siren and his blues and raced up the hill. I stayed about thirty seconds and left. Next day I got new tires. I stay away from that end of town.
I was in the military the next time I found myself behind the wheel of a vehicle. It was stationed Randolph Air Force base and I was a emergency room corpsman at the Hospital. My friend and I were off duty and had gone into town to see a movie. Emergency vehicles were pouring one by one out the front gate. Our bus was stopped by Air Policemen, "And medics on board?" We were transported with lights flashing to the hospital. Sergeant Major met us at the door, "Anderson take the ambulance over there and head out the gate. turn right you can't miss where you are going. Dandy you take the off wheel Hummer. It is all we got." And, "Whose driving?" I couldn't believe the reply, "You are!" and my but, "You don't need a license you are licensed by the military. Just get there." So my second vehicle of choosing was an eighteen shift off road hummer with red cross on the side. I figured out how to get the red light on but never how to get it out of second gear. I had a long line of upset drivers following me at fifteen to twenty miles an hour by the time I got to the scene of the wreck.
It was one of the worst wrecks I have ever seen. Forty to fifty high school kids were riding high on hay in a hayride truck. Two blocks they had to use the main highway. A man in back was waving a lantern to warn off approaching traffic. Three drunks rounded the corner at ninety plus and rear ended the wagon. Kids were thrown through the air everywhere. Some landed in a small creek nearby. I heard the guy with the lantern lost both his legs but did not die. There were four or five who did die and many in critical condition. My friend received several citations for his valor. When he arrived he told me later Medical corpsman and Doctors and Nurses were standing around in shock at what they were seeing. By the time I arrived the most serious had been rushed to hospitals. I had eight to ten with the least injuries. With a young farm boy sitting beside me talking me through each shift and sirens going I was able to get up to a speed of forty miles per hour. The accident made national news.
No one wanted to transfer me into driving ambulances. Four years in the military I never needed a drivers license. The next vehicle I was to drive without a license was a Greyhound bus. At Central Washington College I used all my savings to pay for two years of College. Jobs were hard to find and I had one at Greyhound Bus line unloading buses. When the layoffs came at Greyhound I had enough seniority to work cleaning buses. Part of the job of maintenance was to ensure the bus had oil and lubrication. The last part of the job was to take the bus on the freeway and check it for driving performance. I told one of the other mechanics, "I don't have a driver's license, "Shush, you want to lose your job. It's a piece of cake." OK, there were no passengers and the Senacruisers. You can see forever but really hard to park.
My future wife had a drivers license and her dad's car. She was tired of driving me. So one day she drove me downtown Seattle on one of the steepest hills. Put the car in park and came around to the passenger side, "You are driving." But, cars were honking behind us and she was not moving. I squeeled the tires and I think I took out second gear but I got us home. I got a permit and the first day without second gear took a driver's test. He had me parallel park on a hill with a tiny spot to back into. I think I scared the hell out of him. Had me drive back to the license area taking out four cones and said, "If you can back into that space without second gear you will learn the rest." Next day there was a light mist. I saw the light changing from green to yellow. A cop car was sitting at the intersection. I applied the brakes. The car spun in circles and came to rest in the same direction but on the wrong side of the road from the cop car. He rolled down his window and with a frightened look on his face said, "You stay right there!" Turned on his siren and his blues and raced up the hill. I stayed about thirty seconds and left. Next day I got new tires. I stay away from that end of town.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
NORTHWEST WRITER'S CONFERENCE 2009
This years conference is over and done. Thousands of would be best selling writers with dreams. One percent might actually well be published. It is known as the profession of rejection. One of the lessons you learn is losing is giving up. The dream is alive as long as we continue to write. This year I entered three new poems and my novel. One of my goals has been accomplished. I have been published and my book of poems and short stories last year was on the Amazon wish list, "Womb of the Same Mother" by Dan J Donlan. My poetry has been published Internationally. My dream is not with poetry. I hope someday to have my novels published.
For you who share my dream going to the conference is a good learning start. Do not expect to be discovered you go there to learn. My poetry entry was edited by one editor and one book Doctor. I hadn't expected to win. None of my published poems could be submitted and it was rough drafted two days before the deadline. Three hundred plus novel had to be submitted in 25 pages. The profession of rejection. One judge wrote, "Although I love the way this poetry is written I cannot give high marks if I do not understand the meaning of the poetry. This is one submission:
TWILIGHT'S SCARLET TEASE
Often courted is she in morning sunrise
A thousand suitors who come to beacon
In awe as one by one beau's savoring
This magnificence they come seeking
As late clouds gather in darkening night
Orange-purple skies add splinters of fading light
Yet a fickle lady she leaves with no suitors
Magically disappearing beneath snow white waves alone
Evening approaches in twilight's gleaming
Too soon this lady vanishing no mate chosen
Scarlet vermilion hearts must wait for morning
Those left behind to court in mist are frozen
Majestically the sun fading falls and hides
Shadowed beneath the tides of ocean waves
Splendorous her majesty in her nudity
A virgin Queen doth fall in a last peaking
Lost in fate another night in mists uncertain
Unfeathered this lady slips beneath a blazing curtain
That each one must know her kiss was only flirtain
Disappearing under florescent waves returning certain.
UNDER THE APPLE TREE
The heart doth know
What hides below
A smile a nod
Still love must be denied
The sweetest of apples remain
High upon the limbs
The rest falling to the bottom
To feed the multitudes
For that special apple to be found
Leave for others those falling to the ground
One day a special person
Will come from far above you
Only then can you say
"You are special!"
I have waited for this day
To say, "I love you!"
A writer must learn from criticism. One of the lessons learned. Seen from another's eyes there is clarity. I originally had the line beginning majesty at the beginning of the poem. Writing is tough always judged by others eyes. I had one six minute time with a potential agent. She said, "So what is your pitch?" My novel begins with a Prologue introducing one of two detectives---!" And, "Take the Prologue out and only use one detective." And, "But it is part of the plot that one detective messes up the case." And, "Throw out any mention of a second detective and start without a prologue." The field of rejection. But the conference is a place to learn. She liked one ladies poems beginning and asked her to send more of her submission. It began: "Clouds were flying by" A second, "I am writing about lighthouses I have visited." The agent loves lighthouses. A third kept a daily diary of her day with her poopsy. The agents all loved dog stories. It is a tough field this profession of rejection. I think I will attend next year better prepared. I am starting my new novel, "Clouds were flying by the lighthouse." As I take Poopsy on her daily walk. We stop as I raise the bag. Isn't that so visual?
Thursday, August 6, 2009
VERDIGO
My stepfather loves to fish. In his mid nineties fishing for the big one is just a memory. Yet to hear that I have caught a Marlin would leave him laughing in hysteria. On my wall a near record Mahi dolphin and inch taller than his five foot four would leave him in total disbelief. In this much you have to know about my step dad. He was an avid fisherman all his life. At ninety five today my bet is he still yearns to fish. My blue and yellow dolphin an inch taller than his five foot four inches.
OK, so I had to start it out with a fisherman's lie. The dolphin was only five foot two inches and ten pounds below the World record the day I caught it. I was amazed. I found the world record at a local restaurant. Ten pounds less my fish was four inches longer. Still that is a big fish for a novice such as I. Notice the print was getting smaller with the lies and bigger with the truth. You have to know about my step dad to understand this giant of a man. My own father had never been there for me. He could not understand why I was all thumbs.
In life Will worked hard and overcame any handicap with being a small man. He was the little brother in his own family. He took on danger fearless. My biological father was six foot five and Alcoholic and mean. Will had known both my mother and father. As he told me from the first time he saw my mother he was in love with her. Bumping horns with my dad not possible.Separated from his first marriage when word came to my step dad my father was abusing my mother and us kids he ended the abuse. I was told because of the size difference he put a gun to my father's head. If he touched my mother or us the next time he would pull the trigger. Always he was a man to take on his words.
But that is not part of this story.My Stepfather's job was hard and dangerous. He was a steelworker and fearless, he walked as a trapeze performer high in the air, on tiny iron platforms on new high rise construction downtown Seattle. At five foot four never weighed in more than a hundred and fourtyfour pounds. Will supervised the construction of these buildings and took no guff from men twice his size. This was told to me by one of those men who idolized my step dad:
One day he arrived in early darkness for the morning shift. He found the night crew Idle standing around smoking and drinking coffee. He lined the crew up against the wall and asked for an explanation. The batteries had gone dead and they could not see. A crane was being called in to raise the heavy battery up to the third story so they could see. He asked for three giant men to come with him and the rest to wait. He dropped a huge chain over the edge and told the workers below to attach the batteries. They attached the chain to a wall post and he by hand hauled the batteries up using three men to haul in the chain behind him. He was a man's man.
He walked around high places that would scare lesser men to death. He relished testing the limits of fear. When the Seattle Space Needle was in early construction someone had to go to the edge of the outside platform and attach bolts to the safety nets. With only a safety belt attached to his waist he did the bolt tightening. Today when you ride up that elevator and look out at that intoxicating view of Seattle and the islands image a little man beyond your sight attaching bolts on the edge. Enough of the Paul Bunyan stuff we talk about fishing.
When he was told of a lake that had fish twenty inches long and seldom fished because it was so hard to get to he was in his realm. That he took me is where the vertigo comes in. I was just a kid maybe twelve. Six foot three probably his weight. Fish did not like anything I put on for bait. He was already mad at me because when he took me opening day and it was the first time in eleven year he did not limit. He took me Salmon fishing caught a fifty something and I lost it by not putting the net in the right position. I scared the fish away. But it was to be a bonding thing. I think the way he said it he was going to make a man out of me. We had tent, cooler, sleeping bags, all the stuff for an over nighter. We arrived early in the morning and were to be fishing at dawn. I believe the lake was called Greider Lake. I was reading the map. Look it says Greider Creek. Follow Greider creek you find the lake right?
Step dad said, "Hard, this is even going to be a piece of cake for you." He carried the tent would not let the fishing poles out of his hands and I had the sleeping bags attached. For awhile we shared the cooler. That was the first to be abandoned. Over, under limbs branches, cross to the other side down inclines up stepper rocks. He was in his realm, a challenge. The prize of the day twenty inch trout and virtually and unfished trout lake. Over blackberry bushes, needles, bonding or not I was chastised at any complaint. I wanted him one on one playing basketball.
First obstacle, the tiny creek was now a huge waterfall going straight up. On all sides was sheer rock, "There it is he said. The path a piece of cake." Why I always hate those evil word of comfort. High over my head was a tree branch protruding and a tiny ledge above that. With unseen handhold to me he was now on the ledge and dropping a rope to pull me up. Sure enough the trail. Hope you don't fall and foot over foot it lead around the corner. There were several of those some easier climbs and we were going up. Don't look down that was when I discovered my lifelong vertigo problem. I try to pass out at the sight of death eight feet below me. We were up far beyond where I just got a little dizzy. I never looked down again. It began to rain. Just a drizzle at first. Then it got cold. Did I mention my stepfather worked on the Aleskia pipeline.
The rocky ledges were now slippery as ice. There was no way to go back and down. We had to go up. I lost a tennis shoe and my short soaked fell to my ankle. My glasses were useless for seeing and I need my glasses to see. The tent had to go. We each had a wet sleeping bag. He handed me the sack lunch, "Better eat a sandwich while you can." Sack broke and all inside fell almost silently below. It was the first time I thought I saw something leering at me from the shadows. Later I would hear demons asking for my heart.
For a man who welded his wedding band to a project he was doing and would not let it be cutoff and waited until the weld was hot enough to extract this was no hardship. I wear his ring today because Mom would not let him wear it again due to the danger. My step dad was in his element only thinking of the fish. This is when I heard him say, "Punky, we have to find a new route and retrack." This is also when I thought of just closing my eyes falling backwards and taking my chance. But then I heard voices from above.
God had found us. My prayers had been answered. A rope came from over our heads, "Tie the rope to the boy and we will put him up." My step dad shimmed up the rope. It was the first time I had seen a Forest Ranger close up, What the hell are you doing" I wanted to tell him Dad was little but don't mess with him, "We were following the trail to Greider Lake." And, "Are you nutts? why didn't you drive up the road. In all my years you are the first ones to climb this wall without climbing gear. This is consider unpassible in any weather. Mountain climbers practice for climbing Mt Rainier.
Not the first of our surprises. That's when we saw all the campers and tents. All but a few crazy like my step dad hunkered inside. He fished until total darkness and caught only a few small eight inch the largest. The Rangers took us down. We never found the tent or the cooler. Dad was going back next week with some of his more hardy fishing buddies. He did not take me. I don't eat trout today. Salmon if it is home caught and cooked I avoid. Only if it is caught by strangers and in expensive restaurants with white wine.
Not the first of our surprises. That's when we saw all the campers and tents. All but a few crazy like my step dad hunkered inside. He fished until total darkness and caught only a few small eight inch the largest. The Rangers took us down. We never found the tent or the cooler. Dad was going back next week with some of his more hardy fishing buddies. He did not take me. I don't eat trout today. Salmon if it is home caught and cooked I avoid. Only if it is caught by strangers and in expensive restaurants with white wine.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
In Memoriam
Tonight I was perusing the memoriam site. I found so many friends. Reminded me of a poem I wrote for my niece. She died in August 2002. This week as you know I missed the reunion because we had a family reunion of our own in Long Beach. In 2002 the family reunion was held in her home in Selah , Washington. We rafted twenty plus miles down the Yakima river starting near Central Washington College. Our hostess the person she was hardly hurried us home. Unknown to us her husband was in a Triathlon meet in Calgary Canada and they were waiting for us to leave to leave to drive and fly to Calgary.
So as soon as the last car departed they were loaded up and following us across the pass. Mom did not fly so Staci allowed her husband catch a plane. She would rent a motorhome and drive Mom and the kids. On Monday they rented a motor home and were returning to Mom's house in Edmonds to load it up. The accident was big news and the TV pictures were horrible. All that was left of the car that hit them and the motor home burned out frames. the driver of the Porsche crossed the centerline and drove head on at ninety plus miles per hour into the motorhome. The reaction time for Staci was, "OH my God!" Thankfully It proved she died instantly on inpact. I will not say anything more about the other driver other than he was a Microsoft big wig and unhappy he didn't get the upgrade he wanted.
Yet another sad part of the story. We as family heard about Staci's death listening to the radio. "Two people were killed on highway 2 tonight in a tragic accident. One was a migrant worker from Selah. Washington, Staci---" and her name was given. I thought I heard wrong. She was at home cleaning up from mess left behind by 26 guests. The driver of the Porsche's name cannot be given until the next of kin is notified. First off Staci was not a migrant worker. She graduated from Washington State University undergraduate school and Boise State Masters degree in business. She was a head Market manager at Tree top foods. Her family had not been notified. All of us heard it in disbelief on the radio.
Mom and children were in the car following. They saw it all. Step dad crawled from the burning motor home with a broken leg. Mom and Step dad couldn't open the door it was badly crushed when the car exploded in flames and they were pulled away. This is the poem I wrote standing at her funeral as the children sent yellow and blue balloons into the sky.
INMEMORIAM
To soar
To seek
Embrace the sky
but alas
No wings have I
Her walk so gentle
Yet aloft
As a bird on its maiden flight
Her voice so gentle
A mere whisper in the night
No more beautiful woman
I must say
That she as beautiful
Coming towards
as the day she went on her way
So as soon as the last car departed they were loaded up and following us across the pass. Mom did not fly so Staci allowed her husband catch a plane. She would rent a motorhome and drive Mom and the kids. On Monday they rented a motor home and were returning to Mom's house in Edmonds to load it up. The accident was big news and the TV pictures were horrible. All that was left of the car that hit them and the motor home burned out frames. the driver of the Porsche crossed the centerline and drove head on at ninety plus miles per hour into the motorhome. The reaction time for Staci was, "OH my God!" Thankfully It proved she died instantly on inpact. I will not say anything more about the other driver other than he was a Microsoft big wig and unhappy he didn't get the upgrade he wanted.
Yet another sad part of the story. We as family heard about Staci's death listening to the radio. "Two people were killed on highway 2 tonight in a tragic accident. One was a migrant worker from Selah. Washington, Staci---" and her name was given. I thought I heard wrong. She was at home cleaning up from mess left behind by 26 guests. The driver of the Porsche's name cannot be given until the next of kin is notified. First off Staci was not a migrant worker. She graduated from Washington State University undergraduate school and Boise State Masters degree in business. She was a head Market manager at Tree top foods. Her family had not been notified. All of us heard it in disbelief on the radio.
Mom and children were in the car following. They saw it all. Step dad crawled from the burning motor home with a broken leg. Mom and Step dad couldn't open the door it was badly crushed when the car exploded in flames and they were pulled away. This is the poem I wrote standing at her funeral as the children sent yellow and blue balloons into the sky.
INMEMORIAM
To soar
To seek
Embrace the sky
but alas
No wings have I
Her walk so gentle
Yet aloft
As a bird on its maiden flight
Her voice so gentle
A mere whisper in the night
No more beautiful woman
I must say
That she as beautiful
Coming towards
as the day she went on her way
Air Force Flu
Joining the Air force came after finding out I was too tall to be in the Submarine corps. The Marines wanted a few good men I was not one of them. A weekend warrior in the National Guard I couldn't see doing that for eight more years. The Air Force had just been embarrassed when it was found out they were using Roller skating for basic training. I wasn't used to being yelled at and jumping over logs and things. Roller skating seemed like a fun thing to do. No sweat I always wore a flat top in the summer. It looked fun flying all those jets and things although I have mentioned I suffer from vertigo.
First thing I was to find was the Air Force was changing their image. There was a lot of yelling at me in boot camp. I am not good at being yelled at so there was this thing they refereed to as discipline. Bottom line I was told to shape up or ship out. The physical stuff was fun. I love doing extra pushups and running laps and such. In was in the classroom that they had me. One Drill Instructor took pleasure in telling me where my next assignment was going to be and I would enjoy being a Air Police night guard in Tulle, Greenland. This is where they send those flunking out of medical school, adding the word, "Duummy!" I really do hate cold weather.
So here was my option---finishing in the top three in my class or he would choose my next assignment. I know the teachers at Highline will find this hard to believe but I could actually read. I just didn't like to do it in confined places like school or in the library. Mickey Spillane was my author of choice. Given the choice I studied anatomy while my co-workers frolicked, drank and played and had fun. I managed to exceed my goal and finished second in the class. Albeit I was really one of the few who cared where they finished. The reward for me. Six more months of basic training and school this time in the Navy at Great Lakes Medical school in Chicago, Illinois. It was an experimental program. Little known, Marines do not supply their own corpsman, the Navy does. Like I say, roller skating, like I say the Air Force was trying to redo their image. Great Lakes had the best training available.
Fifty Airman were chosen. We found ourselves surrounded by 10,000 Navy plebes only a few of whom thought Airman were not sissies and a Marine instructor trying to physically break us down. Which bumped heads with me because I thought men wearing white pajamas a little on the feminine side. But I am off the subject we are taking about Asian Flu. Part of my training was wearing white pajamas and working on the wards. The Asian flu announced nearly unnoticed. The ward was filled with sick patients having high fevers. My interest was Milwaukee was in the World Series. I routed for Santo and the Cubbies but anyone who would take down the Yankees. Three of us, two who I teased as ladies in white, took a train to Milwaukee to check out the stadium. Milwaukee has a few breweries. They give free samples to men in uniform. Not many in that town arrive in Air force blue. The Navy was hot on my trail by the time I got back on base. Something about a fistfight and I was easier to find than men in white nightgowns.
Upon arrival they did not ask me to take a breath test they wanted to take my temperature. Despite my slurred protests that I was fine and reporting to duty I was admitted as a patient. Shortly before those dude with the heavy nightsticks came looking for me. One early morning I awoke to the smell of breakfast and with a headache I was sure from the night of drinking. The Navy Corpsman taking my pulse said, "Welcome back to the living." I was beginning to be able to see, "You owe your life to that lady over there." I was nineteen at the time and she seemed rather matronly. I said, "What do you mean?"and, "She stayed with you day and night and brought you back from the dead." And then I remembered, "I have Word Series tickets. I have to get out of this zombie suit." The real shocker, "The World series is over." I had been in a coma. The two sailors, my friends, with me died the first night. Allot of people died in Chicago during the Asian flu. Our base was the worst hit. I was barely able to thank the lady who saved me and thought me special. Two days later I shipped out for Randolph Air Force base, Texas, three miles from Lackland, a place I considered very close to hell. This is why I fear the Swine flu.
First thing I was to find was the Air Force was changing their image. There was a lot of yelling at me in boot camp. I am not good at being yelled at so there was this thing they refereed to as discipline. Bottom line I was told to shape up or ship out. The physical stuff was fun. I love doing extra pushups and running laps and such. In was in the classroom that they had me. One Drill Instructor took pleasure in telling me where my next assignment was going to be and I would enjoy being a Air Police night guard in Tulle, Greenland. This is where they send those flunking out of medical school, adding the word, "Duummy!" I really do hate cold weather.
So here was my option---finishing in the top three in my class or he would choose my next assignment. I know the teachers at Highline will find this hard to believe but I could actually read. I just didn't like to do it in confined places like school or in the library. Mickey Spillane was my author of choice. Given the choice I studied anatomy while my co-workers frolicked, drank and played and had fun. I managed to exceed my goal and finished second in the class. Albeit I was really one of the few who cared where they finished. The reward for me. Six more months of basic training and school this time in the Navy at Great Lakes Medical school in Chicago, Illinois. It was an experimental program. Little known, Marines do not supply their own corpsman, the Navy does. Like I say, roller skating, like I say the Air Force was trying to redo their image. Great Lakes had the best training available.
Fifty Airman were chosen. We found ourselves surrounded by 10,000 Navy plebes only a few of whom thought Airman were not sissies and a Marine instructor trying to physically break us down. Which bumped heads with me because I thought men wearing white pajamas a little on the feminine side. But I am off the subject we are taking about Asian Flu. Part of my training was wearing white pajamas and working on the wards. The Asian flu announced nearly unnoticed. The ward was filled with sick patients having high fevers. My interest was Milwaukee was in the World Series. I routed for Santo and the Cubbies but anyone who would take down the Yankees. Three of us, two who I teased as ladies in white, took a train to Milwaukee to check out the stadium. Milwaukee has a few breweries. They give free samples to men in uniform. Not many in that town arrive in Air force blue. The Navy was hot on my trail by the time I got back on base. Something about a fistfight and I was easier to find than men in white nightgowns.
Upon arrival they did not ask me to take a breath test they wanted to take my temperature. Despite my slurred protests that I was fine and reporting to duty I was admitted as a patient. Shortly before those dude with the heavy nightsticks came looking for me. One early morning I awoke to the smell of breakfast and with a headache I was sure from the night of drinking. The Navy Corpsman taking my pulse said, "Welcome back to the living." I was beginning to be able to see, "You owe your life to that lady over there." I was nineteen at the time and she seemed rather matronly. I said, "What do you mean?"and, "She stayed with you day and night and brought you back from the dead." And then I remembered, "I have Word Series tickets. I have to get out of this zombie suit." The real shocker, "The World series is over." I had been in a coma. The two sailors, my friends, with me died the first night. Allot of people died in Chicago during the Asian flu. Our base was the worst hit. I was barely able to thank the lady who saved me and thought me special. Two days later I shipped out for Randolph Air Force base, Texas, three miles from Lackland, a place I considered very close to hell. This is why I fear the Swine flu.
Pete Rademacher
The bit about athletes I have met. Didn't throw in Al Hostack. Jim and Don's Uncle who was Middleweight Champion of the world in 1938. A neat old guy still tough into his eighties. He used to teach us to box in his gym. I still remember, "If you are going to fight throw the first punch don't stand and argue about it." He is Seattle's only professional worlds champion that I know of. But this is not about him. I have been lucky enough to meet some world class athletes in one manner or another. I was snuck in by a friend standing room only to see the U of Dub Kansas basketball team. We had no seats. We were standing in the tunnel trying to figure out where to go. Suddenly a hand reached from behind grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me up two steps, "Sorry son but they are introducing me." It was Wilt Chamberlain. This is about Pete Rademacher. The only amateur fighter to as an amateur fight for the heavyweight championship of the world. If you goggle his name you can find him on web.
This is how I know him. We were going to Corvallis Oregon to watch the Huskies play Oregon States. Ironically we were to meet my good friend from Franklin Mike Roe at the bowling alley on Rainier alley. He did not show up. I can only verify as a surmissal as to what happened it is eerie. Only as I write this am I putting some of it together. It never occurred to me this may have been how it happened. Roe had two loves boxing and theater. We met because I had to have an English credit if I was to graduate at Highline. Franklin did not have Senior English. So my advisor put me in Creative speaking class. Roe and I met doing a three man play. It was just for members of the class not a big thing. I was Mr Roberts. We rehearsed and became friends. He took me to the gym where he worked out and I met some of his friends. Important to what happened next. Roe never met us at the bowling alley. Earlier he had met some friends. To kill time they walked next door and shared some beers. Someone insulted one of the girls and it went outside. Roe won the fight and returned to drinking. With his back turned the guy rushed across the barroom and hit him in the head with a beer pitcher. He died instantly. We knew none of this until after the weekend.
Not at the alley at the prescribed time and behind we had to go. It was a long ride to Oregon and getting late. My friend Larry had a classic "56" Chevy convertible. It had loud Hollywood mufflers. There was always someone wanting to drag race. Larry would put them on. He had automatic. He would play like he was going to shift. They would beat us off the line and we would pretend disappointment. A car pulled up beside us the standard, "Dudes, hot car want a drag?" Light changed they were gone and we eased off. This time wasn't the usual drive off into the sunset. They dropped in and followed us. We pulled in front of my house I had forgotten my jacket. As I got out of the car a giant of a man jumped from the other car. None of my friends were wimps they too piled out. Someone yelled from the other car, "Don't worry boys he doesn't need us."
The bid dude said, "If you want to get something out of the trunk or something to make it even." Then I heard laughter. Someone calling my name, "Donlan you were frightened to death!" It was some of the guys from the boxing club. My friends were flipping a coin to see who would fight the giant. We weren't doing the four on one bit, "You don't want this guy and he wouldn't fight you. He is just teasing. Can't afford to hurt his hands. This is Pete Rademacher. In two weeks he is going to fight for the Heavyweight championship of the world.
Two weeks later I had a hundred bucks on Rademacher with big odds. He knocked Patterson down in the second round. In the sixth round Patterson knocked him out the only time an amutuer fought first fight for the championship. I never saw these guys again. But now I am thinking of the irony. Were they the buddies Roe was drinking with and left before he got into his fatal fight. They were friends of his not mine. Roe never lived to graduate. I didn't have many friends at Franklin he was my best friend.
This is how I know him. We were going to Corvallis Oregon to watch the Huskies play Oregon States. Ironically we were to meet my good friend from Franklin Mike Roe at the bowling alley on Rainier alley. He did not show up. I can only verify as a surmissal as to what happened it is eerie. Only as I write this am I putting some of it together. It never occurred to me this may have been how it happened. Roe had two loves boxing and theater. We met because I had to have an English credit if I was to graduate at Highline. Franklin did not have Senior English. So my advisor put me in Creative speaking class. Roe and I met doing a three man play. It was just for members of the class not a big thing. I was Mr Roberts. We rehearsed and became friends. He took me to the gym where he worked out and I met some of his friends. Important to what happened next. Roe never met us at the bowling alley. Earlier he had met some friends. To kill time they walked next door and shared some beers. Someone insulted one of the girls and it went outside. Roe won the fight and returned to drinking. With his back turned the guy rushed across the barroom and hit him in the head with a beer pitcher. He died instantly. We knew none of this until after the weekend.
Not at the alley at the prescribed time and behind we had to go. It was a long ride to Oregon and getting late. My friend Larry had a classic "56" Chevy convertible. It had loud Hollywood mufflers. There was always someone wanting to drag race. Larry would put them on. He had automatic. He would play like he was going to shift. They would beat us off the line and we would pretend disappointment. A car pulled up beside us the standard, "Dudes, hot car want a drag?" Light changed they were gone and we eased off. This time wasn't the usual drive off into the sunset. They dropped in and followed us. We pulled in front of my house I had forgotten my jacket. As I got out of the car a giant of a man jumped from the other car. None of my friends were wimps they too piled out. Someone yelled from the other car, "Don't worry boys he doesn't need us."
The bid dude said, "If you want to get something out of the trunk or something to make it even." Then I heard laughter. Someone calling my name, "Donlan you were frightened to death!" It was some of the guys from the boxing club. My friends were flipping a coin to see who would fight the giant. We weren't doing the four on one bit, "You don't want this guy and he wouldn't fight you. He is just teasing. Can't afford to hurt his hands. This is Pete Rademacher. In two weeks he is going to fight for the Heavyweight championship of the world.
Two weeks later I had a hundred bucks on Rademacher with big odds. He knocked Patterson down in the second round. In the sixth round Patterson knocked him out the only time an amutuer fought first fight for the championship. I never saw these guys again. But now I am thinking of the irony. Were they the buddies Roe was drinking with and left before he got into his fatal fight. They were friends of his not mine. Roe never lived to graduate. I didn't have many friends at Franklin he was my best friend.
Hydro Racing
You probably tire of my stories but I am noted for rambling on. One story that might be of interest. When I moved to Franklin I mentioned it being in the middle of the night. When we moved in we were in the process of living in the house and remodeling. We moved right above the parking for the Hydro pits. I was at the lake every day during Seafair racing. When one of the boats rose in the air and both drivers were killed I was swimming less than a hundred yards from the crash. As kids we swam out but there was nothing we could do. My Grandmother always lived near the lake. One day my friend Larry sold a car to a school mate. He was paid $25 down and then the car and he disappeared. One day we were cruising and there sitting in a driveway the car somewhat abused. Knocked on the door and what a surprise.
His excuse was he didn't have any money we could take the car. He had blown the transmission and had at least one major wreck. Larry wanted his money and he didn't have it. We spotted two miniature hydro's and a motor laying on the wall. I believe he said no not my hydro's and we said come up with the two hundred and you can have them back. One of the hydro's was a slug not much more than an outboard motorboat. But the second was a miniature in every way of Miss Wahoo. It was a racing machine in limited class. But none of us had ever raced a hydro. I happened to be in the boat at the time. Another limited came up beside me, "You want to race?" Not really but it was a challenge. He held the record in his class for speed. He said I am tired of just racing alone. Just give me a little challenge. His wife held a stopwatch and a flag where we were supposed to finish. I figured he is going to blow me out of the water who really cares. Halfway I hadn't opened up the throttle I couldn't the boat kited so badly. It was all I could do to hold on to the throttle and steering wheel at the same time. I had to let go of the throttle and put both hands on the steering wheel and the boat was flying as I left him far behind. When I woke up I had done a complete 360 and dumb me without a life jacket. I hadn't intended on racing. I had stayed in the boat. A real miracle. On the shore the guy bought the boat from us at a 400 percent profit from what Larry was owed.
He looked over the boat, "My God, this boat hasn't got a stabilizer. No problem it will be slower but faster than anything in this class. But why didn't you shut down after the finish line. You had me beat by thirty feet?" I couldn't, the throttle was backwards. He had it set up that when you let the throttle out the boat went faster. You pulled it in to stop. Had I not flipped I probably would have gone on the beach and killed someone including me. This ended my dream of being a hydroplane driver. Last year I was having trouble with balance. Doctor found out I suffer from vertigo. Turn my head to the left I am alright. To the right I pass out. This is why I always get sick at carnival rides and flying in airborne things.
His excuse was he didn't have any money we could take the car. He had blown the transmission and had at least one major wreck. Larry wanted his money and he didn't have it. We spotted two miniature hydro's and a motor laying on the wall. I believe he said no not my hydro's and we said come up with the two hundred and you can have them back. One of the hydro's was a slug not much more than an outboard motorboat. But the second was a miniature in every way of Miss Wahoo. It was a racing machine in limited class. But none of us had ever raced a hydro. I happened to be in the boat at the time. Another limited came up beside me, "You want to race?" Not really but it was a challenge. He held the record in his class for speed. He said I am tired of just racing alone. Just give me a little challenge. His wife held a stopwatch and a flag where we were supposed to finish. I figured he is going to blow me out of the water who really cares. Halfway I hadn't opened up the throttle I couldn't the boat kited so badly. It was all I could do to hold on to the throttle and steering wheel at the same time. I had to let go of the throttle and put both hands on the steering wheel and the boat was flying as I left him far behind. When I woke up I had done a complete 360 and dumb me without a life jacket. I hadn't intended on racing. I had stayed in the boat. A real miracle. On the shore the guy bought the boat from us at a 400 percent profit from what Larry was owed.
He looked over the boat, "My God, this boat hasn't got a stabilizer. No problem it will be slower but faster than anything in this class. But why didn't you shut down after the finish line. You had me beat by thirty feet?" I couldn't, the throttle was backwards. He had it set up that when you let the throttle out the boat went faster. You pulled it in to stop. Had I not flipped I probably would have gone on the beach and killed someone including me. This ended my dream of being a hydroplane driver. Last year I was having trouble with balance. Doctor found out I suffer from vertigo. Turn my head to the left I am alright. To the right I pass out. This is why I always get sick at carnival rides and flying in airborne things.
Around Greatness
Trust me on this one. Even my children accuse me of making this up. My father an alcoholic. The reason I never wanted to go home. My second home being White Center field house and as often Burien fieldhouse. If they were open I was there. I was a gym rat. I was Punky then. The other Punky. I remember the first of those I met to go on to fame. Don Dorland, often confused by my infamy and similar name. I think my basketball schlolarship at Central Washington may have come from that confusion. I was listed in newspaper articles as a top three recruit. It wasn't that misleading I lead the freshman team in scoring and rebounding. Don also hung out at the field house but only at Burien. He won't remember me I was much younger. No one it seems does. We would shoot hoops. Not the usual, "Horse", before the three point line we both loved to shoot the deeper the better. Don went on the "Fuskies" and played starting guard. Sorry I am a diehard Coug. Known as a shooting guard I can attest to he was very good from long range. Each year in my advanced age I make it a point to shot a three point shot. This year I am losing a little range. May have to do it two handed as we did in the earlier days.
One day a bunch of us kids were playing football at the White Center fieldhouse. The Husky freshman team started practice and we had to get off the field by eleven. We were a mixture of whoever showed up that morning. There were kids from West Seattle, White Center even some Garfield kids looking for a game. Some excollege, semipro and kids like me just hanging around to get chosen for any game. It was choose up and bare chested tackle. Someone was always breaking something. So skinny I was always a late pick in the choose up game. On this day the coaches for the Husky freshman had not yet shown up, although I think that was a ruse. The freshman Huskies were tired of hitting each other. . The freshman team asked if we wanted to have a little scrimmage. We were outmatched even if they played out of position. They played out of position and kicked our rear ends. The only play I was involved in was a kick after several of our big guys were either hurt or did not want to get back for any punishment. They had backed us up from our forty to inside the ten. My job was to go outside and keep the returner inside. He had black curly hair and was faster than anyone I had ever seen in my young age. His first name was Hugh. I heard the players calling him that. I was alone on the sidelines trying to look inconspicuous and keep out of Hugh was when I heard someone yell, "Punky!" The ball had been dropped and our quarterback was running for his life. The ball hit me on the head and I was alone except for one very fast dude who was after me. I was trying to run out of bounds on the fifty when whistles blew. Everyone else stopped I continued to the end zone. The Husky coaches not supposed to be there were livid. One of the guys they were yelling at was a guy name McElhaney. First name Hugh. Went on to star with the Huskies and play professionally for San Francisco "49's". One of the best running backs in the NFL ever. He was chasing me down the sidelines. I say I made a hundred yard touchdown. Had the whistle not blown I was dead meat. Halftime it ended 60-6? but who was keeping score?
OK, so I played with Bob Smither's. I am considering you as great even though you didn't recognize me at the reunion. I remember winning the Christmas day tournament and my name misspelled on the plague. They spelled it Dorland. But he was already playing for the Huskies. I tried to buy years later the plague from the wall at White Center fieldhouse but I was told county property and could not be sold. Next time I came it was gone . Senior year we moved to Franklin High. Franklin also had a very good basketball team and we too won State. Being a new Senior I played very little. Mostly in preseason games. One of the player reaching over me for rebounds was Doug Smart. It was a preseason game but he was awesome. I understand this year Brockman finally took the rebounding title from Mr Smart. It was after that game I was regulated from starter to bench. Sitting on the bench as a senior was no fun. Lucky I stayed long enough that when the won state my name was on some roster. It helped me get a basketball scholarship at Central Washington. Being around good athletes helps.
I joined the Rainier Giants. We played in the local men's semi pro leagues. Renton had a player on their team named Tom Black. He was six nine and it was my job to guard him. I say that I helped him become one of the original Seattle Sonics. I think he scored forty points against us. One day my friend Larry Linville came to my front door. No not that Linville! He had a friend with him his name was Ron Santo. Every day we went to the Rainier playfield and played Home Run. Later Ron went on to play for the Chicago Cubs. He hit over 300 home runs and was a several times golden glove third baseman. Nearly voted into the Hall of Fame. When we played he was a catcher. I tell people I struck out Ron Santo. I don't tell them how many home runs he hit against me. Unknown about Ron is he is also a great golfer. I don't know about scores but he hit a ball a long ways. One day on the fourteenth at Jefferson he hit a ball up and over the hill. The foursome in front of us brought the ball up. A three hundred and twelve yard hole in one. Today Ron is the announcer of Cub games. Ron as a kids was a diabetic. I understand he has lost both legs to that terrible disease. He was an allstar baseball player, a golfer and the starting quarterback in high school.
While at Randolph Air force base I played basketball on the base team. Several of our players were ex-college player two had played at the U. They were Airforce officers. I was playing with player I had envied while rooting for the Washington Huskies. I had to quit the team when they put me on night duty and games were night. Ricky Nelson was in the reserves. He came in for shots. Not really an athlete but brave taking shots from us. We all bragged that we gave Ricky his shots. They all look alike bald. I was playing fast pitch softball for a Hospital team when one of our players asked if I could throw a hardball. He needed someone to get him ready for spring training. Perez was ticketed already as the Pittsburgh Pirates pick to be starting shortstop and needed to get ready. Perez was Puerto Rican, needed military to get his citizenship early. Prado was one of those South American golden gloves but what was getting him to the majors in those days rare for a shortstop he was hitting .312 in thriple "A's" Already guaranteed as a starter. Every day hours I pitched to him. One day there was a old man in the stands watching. He was from the Pirates. They had been watching me. I was offered a five hundred dollar signing bonus and five hundred a month if I made one of the minor league teams as a pitcher. On the weekend before we were to go Perez was killed in a one car wreck. I never went to the tryout. Story of my life around greatness never great.
One day a bunch of us kids were playing football at the White Center fieldhouse. The Husky freshman team started practice and we had to get off the field by eleven. We were a mixture of whoever showed up that morning. There were kids from West Seattle, White Center even some Garfield kids looking for a game. Some excollege, semipro and kids like me just hanging around to get chosen for any game. It was choose up and bare chested tackle. Someone was always breaking something. So skinny I was always a late pick in the choose up game. On this day the coaches for the Husky freshman had not yet shown up, although I think that was a ruse. The freshman Huskies were tired of hitting each other. . The freshman team asked if we wanted to have a little scrimmage. We were outmatched even if they played out of position. They played out of position and kicked our rear ends. The only play I was involved in was a kick after several of our big guys were either hurt or did not want to get back for any punishment. They had backed us up from our forty to inside the ten. My job was to go outside and keep the returner inside. He had black curly hair and was faster than anyone I had ever seen in my young age. His first name was Hugh. I heard the players calling him that. I was alone on the sidelines trying to look inconspicuous and keep out of Hugh was when I heard someone yell, "Punky!" The ball had been dropped and our quarterback was running for his life. The ball hit me on the head and I was alone except for one very fast dude who was after me. I was trying to run out of bounds on the fifty when whistles blew. Everyone else stopped I continued to the end zone. The Husky coaches not supposed to be there were livid. One of the guys they were yelling at was a guy name McElhaney. First name Hugh. Went on to star with the Huskies and play professionally for San Francisco "49's". One of the best running backs in the NFL ever. He was chasing me down the sidelines. I say I made a hundred yard touchdown. Had the whistle not blown I was dead meat. Halftime it ended 60-6? but who was keeping score?
OK, so I played with Bob Smither's. I am considering you as great even though you didn't recognize me at the reunion. I remember winning the Christmas day tournament and my name misspelled on the plague. They spelled it Dorland. But he was already playing for the Huskies. I tried to buy years later the plague from the wall at White Center fieldhouse but I was told county property and could not be sold. Next time I came it was gone . Senior year we moved to Franklin High. Franklin also had a very good basketball team and we too won State. Being a new Senior I played very little. Mostly in preseason games. One of the player reaching over me for rebounds was Doug Smart. It was a preseason game but he was awesome. I understand this year Brockman finally took the rebounding title from Mr Smart. It was after that game I was regulated from starter to bench. Sitting on the bench as a senior was no fun. Lucky I stayed long enough that when the won state my name was on some roster. It helped me get a basketball scholarship at Central Washington. Being around good athletes helps.
I joined the Rainier Giants. We played in the local men's semi pro leagues. Renton had a player on their team named Tom Black. He was six nine and it was my job to guard him. I say that I helped him become one of the original Seattle Sonics. I think he scored forty points against us. One day my friend Larry Linville came to my front door. No not that Linville! He had a friend with him his name was Ron Santo. Every day we went to the Rainier playfield and played Home Run. Later Ron went on to play for the Chicago Cubs. He hit over 300 home runs and was a several times golden glove third baseman. Nearly voted into the Hall of Fame. When we played he was a catcher. I tell people I struck out Ron Santo. I don't tell them how many home runs he hit against me. Unknown about Ron is he is also a great golfer. I don't know about scores but he hit a ball a long ways. One day on the fourteenth at Jefferson he hit a ball up and over the hill. The foursome in front of us brought the ball up. A three hundred and twelve yard hole in one. Today Ron is the announcer of Cub games. Ron as a kids was a diabetic. I understand he has lost both legs to that terrible disease. He was an allstar baseball player, a golfer and the starting quarterback in high school.
While at Randolph Air force base I played basketball on the base team. Several of our players were ex-college player two had played at the U. They were Airforce officers. I was playing with player I had envied while rooting for the Washington Huskies. I had to quit the team when they put me on night duty and games were night. Ricky Nelson was in the reserves. He came in for shots. Not really an athlete but brave taking shots from us. We all bragged that we gave Ricky his shots. They all look alike bald. I was playing fast pitch softball for a Hospital team when one of our players asked if I could throw a hardball. He needed someone to get him ready for spring training. Perez was ticketed already as the Pittsburgh Pirates pick to be starting shortstop and needed to get ready. Perez was Puerto Rican, needed military to get his citizenship early. Prado was one of those South American golden gloves but what was getting him to the majors in those days rare for a shortstop he was hitting .312 in thriple "A's" Already guaranteed as a starter. Every day hours I pitched to him. One day there was a old man in the stands watching. He was from the Pirates. They had been watching me. I was offered a five hundred dollar signing bonus and five hundred a month if I made one of the minor league teams as a pitcher. On the weekend before we were to go Perez was killed in a one car wreck. I never went to the tryout. Story of my life around greatness never great.
COY'S HIGHLINE THEATER
Not sure of the spelling but I am sure all my classmates know of this theater. It was the place to go on Saturday mornings. My family in "56" was poor. I am sure a lot of my classmates especially those in the Top hat or White Center area can relate. Mom could not afford the quarter for me. So I picked beans, Strawberries, whatever needed picking. In those days if you remember we were the itinerate farm workers.
All day on weekdays I sweep and cleaned one of the local Real Estate offices and for one dollar. The goal was to get money to go to the theater.
So how many remember, "Charge Feather River in 3-D?". Indians charging across the river shooting arrows at us the cowboys. It was realistic enough that we would duck and scream. One of my friends younger brother was especially taken in by the fright. I took my 3D glasses off and pointed this out to my friends and said, "Watch this!" As one stream of arrows came from the river I took my fingers and pounded them on his chest. It was a foolish thing to do as he hyperventilated and they nearly had to bring the aid ambulance. Forever he awaited his chance to get even with me.
This time it was just a regular movie. But a popular one with the adults not so much the kids. He said to me, "Open your palm!" I should have been leery. He laid a huge piece of cotton on my open palm and whispered, "Bet you a dollar I can move the cotton to the end of your finger without touching you?" I noticed he had something with burning embers. But before I could react he touched the cotton. All my friends bailed out. There was a huge flash of fire going to the ceiling and then smoke. When the smoke cleared. I was standing there holding my palms in the air and everyone was yelling for the ushers to throw me out.
All day on weekdays I sweep and cleaned one of the local Real Estate offices and for one dollar. The goal was to get money to go to the theater.
So how many remember, "Charge Feather River in 3-D?". Indians charging across the river shooting arrows at us the cowboys. It was realistic enough that we would duck and scream. One of my friends younger brother was especially taken in by the fright. I took my 3D glasses off and pointed this out to my friends and said, "Watch this!" As one stream of arrows came from the river I took my fingers and pounded them on his chest. It was a foolish thing to do as he hyperventilated and they nearly had to bring the aid ambulance. Forever he awaited his chance to get even with me.
This time it was just a regular movie. But a popular one with the adults not so much the kids. He said to me, "Open your palm!" I should have been leery. He laid a huge piece of cotton on my open palm and whispered, "Bet you a dollar I can move the cotton to the end of your finger without touching you?" I noticed he had something with burning embers. But before I could react he touched the cotton. All my friends bailed out. There was a huge flash of fire going to the ceiling and then smoke. When the smoke cleared. I was standing there holding my palms in the air and everyone was yelling for the ushers to throw me out.
High School Reunion
I did attend. I found it amusing I was there unnoticed. The only one who recognized me was my ex-brother in law Dennis Keene. Since I was not in reality a graduate I read it in the paper. Not on the list I signed in. I too married a Linde girl and I am very close to Dennis's children. His Granddaughter and my Granddaughter are best friends. She is flying in from Wisconsin tonight. His daughter considers me her favorite Uncle. But then I was looking at the three fiftieth photo. I was third on the top in one of the pictures. Had I seen it before I wrote the story I would have said which one is, "Punky", as in Waldo. There were two ex Punky's in our class I was the other one.
Until I read the memoriams I thought maybe I shouldn't print this. Someone might recognize theirselves even if I do it as humor. Sadly I found two of my grade school and high school crushes in those who passed away. Smither's didn't recognize me which I had to say ticked me off. He played for White Center Heights. I asked my teammates to recruit him on our team. Some of us were very ticked off when all the school team was made up of Burien students. I remember basketball turnouts when only two of us made the final cuts. One was Smithers. I quit and joined my old team and we challenged the Sophomores to a game. Beat them soundly. Coach asked for a rematch after he trained the boys more. We lost that one by one point. Only because without a coach we called timeout. We led by one with three seconds left. Whatever you do just hold the ball until they foul you. I won't say him by name but he launched the ball missed and was called for a foul. Never had any use for the man with the whistle and never turned out again. Don't put this in too many years ago. But probably why you get little input from the White Center and Top Hat graduates.
I wish I could get some backup on the Pilot down story. I had an interesting four years in the service. When I try and tell these things to the kids even they think I am making it up. Any clippings I sent to my mother and one day my step-dad moved again with his new wife and took everything of my mother's to the dump. I am lucky to have pictures of my mother. Recently I tried to find clipping on Pilot down in the time I was in Randolph or Lackland. I am not good at that Google thing. I just gave up searching. Anywhere you might want to put it. The poem I wrote To Soar to seek embrace the sky. That is from reality. My niece was killed on highway two by a driver trying to commit suicide. She was a beautiful lady leaving behind two children. Her mother saw it all and was in the car following. She too is a Highline graduate. I wouldn't use names but the poem is in memory and has been published. Just in case you know her. Judi Linde Downing. I am not sure of her class. But it was her daugher.
Until I read the memoriams I thought maybe I shouldn't print this. Someone might recognize theirselves even if I do it as humor. Sadly I found two of my grade school and high school crushes in those who passed away. Smither's didn't recognize me which I had to say ticked me off. He played for White Center Heights. I asked my teammates to recruit him on our team. Some of us were very ticked off when all the school team was made up of Burien students. I remember basketball turnouts when only two of us made the final cuts. One was Smithers. I quit and joined my old team and we challenged the Sophomores to a game. Beat them soundly. Coach asked for a rematch after he trained the boys more. We lost that one by one point. Only because without a coach we called timeout. We led by one with three seconds left. Whatever you do just hold the ball until they foul you. I won't say him by name but he launched the ball missed and was called for a foul. Never had any use for the man with the whistle and never turned out again. Don't put this in too many years ago. But probably why you get little input from the White Center and Top Hat graduates.
I wish I could get some backup on the Pilot down story. I had an interesting four years in the service. When I try and tell these things to the kids even they think I am making it up. Any clippings I sent to my mother and one day my step-dad moved again with his new wife and took everything of my mother's to the dump. I am lucky to have pictures of my mother. Recently I tried to find clipping on Pilot down in the time I was in Randolph or Lackland. I am not good at that Google thing. I just gave up searching. Anywhere you might want to put it. The poem I wrote To Soar to seek embrace the sky. That is from reality. My niece was killed on highway two by a driver trying to commit suicide. She was a beautiful lady leaving behind two children. Her mother saw it all and was in the car following. She too is a Highline graduate. I wouldn't use names but the poem is in memory and has been published. Just in case you know her. Judi Linde Downing. I am not sure of her class. But it was her daugher.
Air Rescue
I lived closer to Ratt city. Sadly I found quite a few of my friends in the section of those who passed away. Like I say Senior year half way through my step dad purchased a home on Lake Washington. There were stipulations in the contract that to get the house work had to be done the seller did not want to do. I made new friends and left some old ones behind. I too was in the Air Force but not all airman are pilots. But I enjoyed the story of pilot training. I have a lot of respect for those dudes. I get sick on roller coasters. But I did get my one shot at being a jet pilot. Early one morning I reported to work at the Emergency room. I was told to put on a flight jacket and report to hanger two. I was loaded on a helicopter and all they said was there were pilots down.
Up in the air they loaded me on a bucket and I was supposed to look for any sign of pilots. It was foggy and windy and cold and the water was murky and muddy. We hadn't gone far and I was freezing to death when I spotted a log in the water. I thought I saw something move. Heroes are not made sometimes being in the right place is all it takes to be considered a hero. When I waved my arms and signaled to stop I heard someone up above cursing and saying, "We checked that this morning we are wasting time." Another guy said if this dummy is wrong---We have to check it!" The pilot lay over the top of the log. Six months later he told me had we gone on he would have been dead. The second pilot had died of the cold and drifted away.
It was a trainer jet and the co-pilot was on his first flight. He rejected too late. They were being led in by radar the vision so bad when suddenly the pilot saw water. He told me they wouldn't tell him who the radar tech was and he spent months in recovery. My gift from him. He came one morning to the Hospital with a flight jacket and stuck his neck out on the line to let me fly in a jet as co-pilot. I vomit at carnival rides. Three states in about fifteen minutes with my eyes closed and dizzy he said you can take the controls. I will talk you through it. I have control as instructor there is nothing you can do that I cannot correct. All I know is that when we landed I threw all up over hanger two. Left the flight jacket behind full of vomit I would love to have as a souvenir. Guys I respect everything you did in the War. I never earned my wings but a lot of Airman cannot say they have been up on a jet. I don't know if he put me on because most of the time my eyes were closed but he said we did the sound barrier thing.
Up in the air they loaded me on a bucket and I was supposed to look for any sign of pilots. It was foggy and windy and cold and the water was murky and muddy. We hadn't gone far and I was freezing to death when I spotted a log in the water. I thought I saw something move. Heroes are not made sometimes being in the right place is all it takes to be considered a hero. When I waved my arms and signaled to stop I heard someone up above cursing and saying, "We checked that this morning we are wasting time." Another guy said if this dummy is wrong---We have to check it!" The pilot lay over the top of the log. Six months later he told me had we gone on he would have been dead. The second pilot had died of the cold and drifted away.
It was a trainer jet and the co-pilot was on his first flight. He rejected too late. They were being led in by radar the vision so bad when suddenly the pilot saw water. He told me they wouldn't tell him who the radar tech was and he spent months in recovery. My gift from him. He came one morning to the Hospital with a flight jacket and stuck his neck out on the line to let me fly in a jet as co-pilot. I vomit at carnival rides. Three states in about fifteen minutes with my eyes closed and dizzy he said you can take the controls. I will talk you through it. I have control as instructor there is nothing you can do that I cannot correct. All I know is that when we landed I threw all up over hanger two. Left the flight jacket behind full of vomit I would love to have as a souvenir. Guys I respect everything you did in the War. I never earned my wings but a lot of Airman cannot say they have been up on a jet. I don't know if he put me on because most of the time my eyes were closed but he said we did the sound barrier thing.
My Bio
I transferred halfway through Senior year to Franklin High school. I graduated in no man's land. I went to MT View grade school straight to Highline. Played basketball with Bob Smithers at White Center field house. Those days I was known as Punky Donlan. As soon as I entered Highline that name was gone. I wasn't a great student was only coming for sports. My step dad found a home and we had to move into it in one weekend. I left some friends behind that didn't even know where I had gone. My Diploma is at Franklin but I tried to get it at Highline. Highline won the State championship one year and Franklin the next. Was not a starter at Highline but it looked great on a resume. At Franklin one of my friends was Ron Santo near hall of fame for the Cubs and White sox. That looked good two.
Worked at Boeing for a while and bored joined the National Guard. Recruiters were giving free tickets to a Rainier game. Tried to join the Submarine corps and was too tall. So I found myself in the Air force for four years. Lost track of old friends but for Jim Peters, and Al Ervin who joined with me. Al is the brother of Lillian who I understand is diseased and Freida Ervin both in our class. Al passed away several years ago Jim Peters lives in Spokane, Washington. Hadn't seen him in forty years but we recently got together again. I was a medical corpsman working in the emergency room at Osan, Korea. I decided not to reenlist shortly before the Viet Nam war broke out. So as not to be confused as a war veteran. I took Corpsman training with a Marine Sergeant. Navy Corpsman are marine corpsman. I laughingly say I served in the Army, Navy, Marines and Air force. First year of service was spent going through basic training. I played on the Randolph Air force basketball team until hours conflicted.
As a civilian I returned to my old job at Boeing. A cute young co-worker said, "What are you going to do if you get laid off?" I would not have been an early layoff but things young boys do to impress when she said he was going to Central Washington for September quarter I said, "I thought about doing that too!" College was the last thing on my mind with my grades. She sent an application to my house and my mother opened it. She filled it out and I was accepted. I arrived thinking am I out of my mind. I barely escaped high school. One morning a very tall dude woke me up at five in the morning, "We have to report at the kitchen at six." I found out I had a basketball scholarship. The school paper announced the top three new freshman basketball recruits. It helps surrounding myself with athletes. I led the freshman team in scoring. Central won the small college championship. I never got off the bench varsity. Next year I was out for the season with a heal injury that would not heal.
None of this would have meant a thing but the girl who got me there informed me she was engaged to be married and just a friend and I met my wife of forty eight years Sharon Linde. Two of Sharon's sisters attended Highline. We lived six blocks apart in Top Hat area but I never knew she existed until college. I was in that small time frame when the GI bill did not pay for college. Running low on funds I worked at Greyhound bus company and Adams News where I retired after thirty four years. I took night course mostly writing and creative writing and received a Associate degree at Highline College. Oddly at Highline I nearly did not graduate because an English teacher would not give me a grade unless I memorized 500 lines of poetry. Jim and I went to summer school. I hated poetry.
At Central I took a Creative Writing course that included poetry. The teacher said if anyone could write a poem that was printed in Writer's magazine they would get an automatic "A". I can't remember the poem basically I was making fun of all the poems I had ever read. I was honorable mention and got my "A". Last September my book of poetry and short stories was on the Amazon wish list. Three of my poetry books are found at the local libraries in Burien, Des Moines and Woodinville. "Womb of the Same Mother" by Dan J Donlan. The cover of the book is Mt Rainer seen from my deck in Des Moines. I am currently working to improve my poetry and a detective Novel that began from the first poem I wrote. Something about Paul's Porsche pushing past pissing pidgeons. The instructor said I should do this while the rest of those not understand the form of poetry were doing poems. I should write a detective novel Paul my detective, and I needed a villian. Dumb me I picked a Priest.
Worked at Boeing for a while and bored joined the National Guard. Recruiters were giving free tickets to a Rainier game. Tried to join the Submarine corps and was too tall. So I found myself in the Air force for four years. Lost track of old friends but for Jim Peters, and Al Ervin who joined with me. Al is the brother of Lillian who I understand is diseased and Freida Ervin both in our class. Al passed away several years ago Jim Peters lives in Spokane, Washington. Hadn't seen him in forty years but we recently got together again. I was a medical corpsman working in the emergency room at Osan, Korea. I decided not to reenlist shortly before the Viet Nam war broke out. So as not to be confused as a war veteran. I took Corpsman training with a Marine Sergeant. Navy Corpsman are marine corpsman. I laughingly say I served in the Army, Navy, Marines and Air force. First year of service was spent going through basic training. I played on the Randolph Air force basketball team until hours conflicted.
As a civilian I returned to my old job at Boeing. A cute young co-worker said, "What are you going to do if you get laid off?" I would not have been an early layoff but things young boys do to impress when she said he was going to Central Washington for September quarter I said, "I thought about doing that too!" College was the last thing on my mind with my grades. She sent an application to my house and my mother opened it. She filled it out and I was accepted. I arrived thinking am I out of my mind. I barely escaped high school. One morning a very tall dude woke me up at five in the morning, "We have to report at the kitchen at six." I found out I had a basketball scholarship. The school paper announced the top three new freshman basketball recruits. It helps surrounding myself with athletes. I led the freshman team in scoring. Central won the small college championship. I never got off the bench varsity. Next year I was out for the season with a heal injury that would not heal.
None of this would have meant a thing but the girl who got me there informed me she was engaged to be married and just a friend and I met my wife of forty eight years Sharon Linde. Two of Sharon's sisters attended Highline. We lived six blocks apart in Top Hat area but I never knew she existed until college. I was in that small time frame when the GI bill did not pay for college. Running low on funds I worked at Greyhound bus company and Adams News where I retired after thirty four years. I took night course mostly writing and creative writing and received a Associate degree at Highline College. Oddly at Highline I nearly did not graduate because an English teacher would not give me a grade unless I memorized 500 lines of poetry. Jim and I went to summer school. I hated poetry.
At Central I took a Creative Writing course that included poetry. The teacher said if anyone could write a poem that was printed in Writer's magazine they would get an automatic "A". I can't remember the poem basically I was making fun of all the poems I had ever read. I was honorable mention and got my "A". Last September my book of poetry and short stories was on the Amazon wish list. Three of my poetry books are found at the local libraries in Burien, Des Moines and Woodinville. "Womb of the Same Mother" by Dan J Donlan. The cover of the book is Mt Rainer seen from my deck in Des Moines. I am currently working to improve my poetry and a detective Novel that began from the first poem I wrote. Something about Paul's Porsche pushing past pissing pidgeons. The instructor said I should do this while the rest of those not understand the form of poetry were doing poems. I should write a detective novel Paul my detective, and I needed a villian. Dumb me I picked a Priest.
Posted Poetry and Stories
My poetry Web site is poetrypoem.com/dandy and storypen.com/dandy. I have a bio on it pretty well upgraded. Those that knew me in high school writing poetry would be a shock. A two year associated degree at Highline College I have spent enough time in college for a four year degree. Never with the goal of graduating. That I spent two years at Central Washington College this would lose a lot of bets by my friends. I drifted through high school mostly skipping classes. I was only there to play sports. I spent the summer trying to memorize 5oo lines of poetry so Franklin High would give me a degree.
I am not even sure how I pulled this off. Central Washington offered me a basketball scholarship. Always I was playing at least one sport. I was advertized as one of Central's top three freshman recruits. Freshman did not play varsity. Intermural league I lead in scoring we twentythree points a game. On the games we played prior to the varsity games we were unbeaten. Against the Western Washinton freshman in the playoffs I had my worst game. Six points and we were out of the playoffs. Sophomore year my foot was infected. Running on the heals I was out for the season. But at Central I met the love of life. This year we were married fortyeight years. We both say somewhere there had to be two happy ones.
Sharon is a local girl too. Sharon Linde graudated from Mt Rainier but two of her sisters graduated from Highline. Our home is in Des Moines and two houses down from where she grew up. Two children. five Grandchildren. My son graduated from Wazzu undergraduate and Georgetown Law school. He is a Senior partner at Lane Powell. My Daughter a lead at a large Real Estate firm selling commercial property. My eldest Granddaughter this year graduated from the University of Washington on the Deans list. Did not get her brains from me. Grandson starts Eastern Washington. My youngest Granddaughter has just returned from a visit to Stanford, Berkley choosing the college of her choice. Like I say they did not get their brains from me. Oldest Grandson is an allstar in three sports. Point guard in basketball. Quarterback and leading rusher in football. 9 completed passes 11 attemps three for touchdowns. He last was a little league and pony league allstar playing all nine positions and batting over .500. Younger boy is center forward on his hockey team. Plays the piano and in the second grade announced his goal is to be President of the United States. Trust me we need him.
I am not even sure how I pulled this off. Central Washington offered me a basketball scholarship. Always I was playing at least one sport. I was advertized as one of Central's top three freshman recruits. Freshman did not play varsity. Intermural league I lead in scoring we twentythree points a game. On the games we played prior to the varsity games we were unbeaten. Against the Western Washinton freshman in the playoffs I had my worst game. Six points and we were out of the playoffs. Sophomore year my foot was infected. Running on the heals I was out for the season. But at Central I met the love of life. This year we were married fortyeight years. We both say somewhere there had to be two happy ones.
Sharon is a local girl too. Sharon Linde graudated from Mt Rainier but two of her sisters graduated from Highline. Our home is in Des Moines and two houses down from where she grew up. Two children. five Grandchildren. My son graduated from Wazzu undergraduate and Georgetown Law school. He is a Senior partner at Lane Powell. My Daughter a lead at a large Real Estate firm selling commercial property. My eldest Granddaughter this year graduated from the University of Washington on the Deans list. Did not get her brains from me. Grandson starts Eastern Washington. My youngest Granddaughter has just returned from a visit to Stanford, Berkley choosing the college of her choice. Like I say they did not get their brains from me. Oldest Grandson is an allstar in three sports. Point guard in basketball. Quarterback and leading rusher in football. 9 completed passes 11 attemps three for touchdowns. He last was a little league and pony league allstar playing all nine positions and batting over .500. Younger boy is center forward on his hockey team. Plays the piano and in the second grade announced his goal is to be President of the United States. Trust me we need him.
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