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Chainsaw Carpenter

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   When I was  a little kid, I used to tell folks my dad was a carpenter. When he found out, he got mad and corrected me, mentioning that he was a contractor. I didn't understand the difference at the time, but know now that the knowledge he possessed was far beyond carpentry.   One Christmas I received an Erector Set. For those who aren't familiar with such a thing, it was a set that had numerous thin, flat bars of aluminum or steel, all of which were drilled with multiple holes up and down the length of the bars, which were about twelve inches long and maybe 3/8 inches wide. Also included was a number of little screws, as well as nuts, and an illustrated catalogue that showed the various things you could make; towers and small buildings and cranes and  I don't recall what all else. I suppose the idea behind the set was to encourage future engineers and architects or iron workers. It all fell flat with me. For a short while, when I was bored on a rainy day, I would dig out
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Zippo

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    I was on Fan Story today reading some posts by various authors that I follow when I read one by a friend named Jim Wile. He's writing a book about a fellow who finds himself working on some innovative idea to miniaturize a camera to assist people who have dyslexia. For reasons beyond my comprehension, I was reminded of an incident that occurred back when I was in Great Lakes Illinois at Radarman "A" school. A whole bunch of us had flunked out in the third or fourth week during a class on maneuvering boards.  They were basically just sheets of paper with concentric circles about an inch apart. A circle of course consists of 360 degrees, and on the paper, each degree had a mark on the outside so that you could get an accurate bearing on a contact on the radar. With the maneuvering board a pair of dividers and a parallel ruler,  you could trace the contact for three minutes, and determine what it's course, speed and closest point of approach would be. Now of course 
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Ahoy Matey

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  You know, when you tell enough stories, you're bound to repeat yourself now and then. I guess it's to be expected from us older types. Ideas are rattling around in my head like the marble in a spray paint can until something comes out. I was looking back through my portfolio to see if I'd written anything about my navy days, and I don't see anything, but I'm sure I've commented somewhere using an experience from then. If you've seen these stories before, please forgive me. If you plunk enough coins in a gumball machine, you're bound to get the same color more than once. When I first joined the navy back in 1972, it wasn't because I had any desire to see the world, like their posters suggested. I was number 52 in the draft, and I didn't relish the idea of waltzing around rice paddies and swamps picking leeches off my body. Although I do like green, and camouflage is kind of cool, I settled for thirteen button wool pants and a pea coat. I hated t
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Freedom isn't Free

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    I heard that spring break is happening now down in Florida. It's a wild time for college kids to go hang out, drink a lot, do drugs, have sex with strangers and let their hair down. In some towns, the residents have had enough of the rowdiness that comes with spring break.   Some time back, my older brother Mark forwarded me this picture as a reminder that someone else paid a high price for the freedoms that we enjoy. A day on the beach can mean different things to different people. It's food for thought.
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Chickadee Jerks

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  I think we could all pretty much agree that human beings have the ability to be world class jerks at times. It doesn't mean we're that way all the time, but when something doesn't go our way, we sometimes exhibit behavior that is less than stellar. A perfect example is when we get behind the wheel of our cars. The mild mannered neighbor down the street can turn into a jackass when he's sitting in a two thousand pound machine rocketing down the road at sixty five miles per hour. If someone pulls out in front of him or isn't going fast enough, or perhaps is tailgating, the transformation is akin to Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde. Would it surprise you though that humans aren't the only animals that behave badly? When I was living down south, I had a neighbor who kept a dog, a mongrel, that would bark uncontrollably whenever someone walked down the street past its yard. Fortunately it was fenced in. One day a fishing friend of mine named Bunny was walking down the road wit
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Where's My Eyebrow?

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  I got an email from a friend where I used to live. His name is Tim. He used to work in the woods as a logger, climbing hillsides and cutting down huge old growth spruce and hemlock trees. Now he's working at the local sawmill, running the saw, turning those logs into lumber. He's tough as nails, a real he-man. We developed a friendship some years back when he started coming to church. He knows enough about some of my misadventures in life that he felt comfortable relaying to me a story of his own misfortune. While getting ready for church a week ago, he took a look in the mirror and realized that he was starting to look pretty shaggy. Hoonah doesn't have a barber shop. There are a few people in town who cut hair, but by and large, most folks either opt to cut their own, or get a haircut when they take a trip to Juneau. Tim decided to trim up his hair and shave his beard. Then he noticed that his eyebrows were really getting long. He said about an inch and a half in length
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Valentines Day Poem

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  From time to time I like to share a poem or story that I've read on the writing web site, Fan Story. The other day, a writer in Texas who goes by the name Pome Lover wrote this poem for America. She speaks from her heart and is a patriot who is frustrated with the direction that the country is moving in. I share her feelings and worry what is to become of this once great nation if we don't change the path we're on.  A Different Valentine by  pome lover My country is my valentine! This poem is for her. She’s in a lot of trouble And I think most folks concur.   I love my country, and I fear what “they” want her to be: Americans  who hate her, want to change her, totally.   They called her names and burned her flag, caused riots in the streets; those in power didn’t stop them, so of course, there were repeats!   Those horrors really happened And are quickly getting worse; If Americans don’t take a stand There could be no reverse.   Why  have some Americans, turned Marxist, o
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