programmer_guy
True Ex-Scientologist
Interesting. All of those pics are in my photobucket account.
I'd call it Halloween pumpkin art.
The Little Thread Which Grew - the Apollo '73 to Everything But
- Thread starter lkwdblds
- Start date
- Status
Interesting. All of those pics are in my photobucket account.
I'd call it Halloween pumpkin art.
CarmeloOrchards
Crusader
THAT WAS ENCHANTING!
CarmeloOrchards
Crusader
Dilettante
Patron Meritorious
Jumping in again
I find this fitting for All Souls Day if you're into that....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izQsgE0L450
It's kindof
exhilerating and 
tragic
I find this fitting for All Souls Day if you're into that....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izQsgE0L450
It's kindof
exhilerating and tragic
RogerB
Crusader
Thanks for this. I was unaware of the book. Just added it to the "must read" list.
Gotta be the kid at the piano.
Mark A. Baker
Yeh, 'tis . . . he sort of looks like he knows what its all about, no? The rest of the kids are rather into the novelty of what they're doing.
R
RogerB
Crusader
YOU ARE VERY FLATTERING TODAY ROG
EXCELLENT reply to Dex about the PC setups. I read it three times. The subject of Games Matrices is what interests me. Especially when you get up to where you are being ALL parts of it in connectivity to help all the other parts.
Flattering? Hey, you is a gorgeous looking piece of pulchritude!
I think I'll go back and find that picture of you to reconfirm my view on this . . . and do a little drooling
PS: am pleased you liked my little ditty of response to Dex.
R
RogerB
Crusader
Yes! 'Bout time you dogs honored my favorite concert series!
When I lived in London, doing the "Prom's" was my favorite thing to do. I could never get tix to the First or Last Nights . . . you really had to be an insider to score them . . . but those nights were typically carried live on the "Beeb" . . . so for you guys who enjoy highbrow concerts with the inclusion of audience "participation" and some really wonderful low-brow FUN . . . check out a google for videos on "the last night of the proms."
It's real treat.
V and I, living in Manhattan, of course have access to all the shows, concerts etc., in NYC . . . and honestly, nothing compares to the Proms. Even the intimate little concerts put on each month by our local 7th Day Adventist Church . . . and these are really wonderful.
True story about one of these a couple of months ago. The concert was given by a small string ensemble, and I notice one of the cellos had a rather unusual and distinctive comportment (balance of shape, size and proportions between its upper belly and lower belly).
Because it was an ensemble, I couldn't get to hear that particular instrument (there were three cellos that night, including an electric cello! plus viola and violin.). After the concert I went backstage to inquire about the instrument (I used to play violin, so really cared about this anomaly). It turned out the instrument was a copy of an early Strad (Stradivarius). What was then wonderful was that the musician who owned it was so enamored with the fact that I'd sought him out to inquire on his instrument, as were the rest of the group, we all engaged in quite a chat comparing fiddles and being treated to the distinctive tonal qualities of each, etc.
This is what I love about venues like this . . . the ability to interact with the artists. Same was true with an opera company (recently closed), The Amato Opera Company. It used to perform in a converted townhouse with only about 150-200 or so seats for the audience.
All amateur and/or semi-pro, but wonderful. And you would be so close to the artists you could see the beads of sweat on their make-up
V and I did it regularly . . . and it was always wonderful. And in my view, I found it a little more enjoyable then the monster of the Met, even if the sets at the Met are stupendous. (I remember Zeffirelli practically rebuilt Paris on stage for his production of Boheme).
So give me less pompous and more real people interacting like EP's piece from the Proms!
R
afaceinthecrowd
Gold Meritorious Patron
Kindness Story
I am re-posting my kindess story that got "ate" when the server crashed. Thank all y'all for your very kind responses the first time this story was posted.
In 1969 the US held the first Draft Lottery for the Vietnam War. Millions of men between the ages of 18-26 were riveted to the TV getting drunk, stoned or both at “Draft Lottery Parties.”
The bottom line was that if your Birthday was selected in the first 50 or so you were 100% gonna get drafted if you were classified as 1A (eligible for immediate induction). If you had a 2S Student Deferment (like me and the other dozen or so guys at my draft party) then your number would be used in a subsequent annual draft pool when your deferment was gone by either Graduation or dropping out from or failing college. Although I had initially been 4F due to my “Post Concussive Syndrome” my status had been revised to 1A in ’68 (that’s part of my “What and Why” story if and when I get around to finishing it). If your # was 50 to approximately 140 it was incrementally shrinking odds from 99% to 50% to 1% and from 140 to 240 or so. From around 240 on up to 366 you were pretty much home free for life, short of WWIII...
This lottery had a huge “pool” and the subsequent lotteries would be only males turning 18 in that calendar year. Those that had mid-range probabilities had an indeterminable draft risk in subsequent years after their 2S was gone. As are the vagaries of the “Law of Probability” our little group that night had the whole gamut of “Winning and Losing” numbers. Two of us were “bullet proof” for now—yours truly and my to this day life long friend Tom. The rest were in varying degrees of “peril” with the exception of my very, very close best “Bud”, Randy. Randy’s # was 5. Randy was gonna get drafted now or when he lost his 2S in a year or two, if he made it to graduation. Randy was struggling and on Academic Probation and was an eyelash away from being expelled after current term grades and he knew it…we all knew it.
Randy could fix anything mechanical or electrical. He was our “go to” guy re: how to get chicks. Randy’s girlfriend, Alice, was an Honors Student, a real knockout and sweet, sweet, sweet. His father was an electrician with an 8th grade education that grew up in a tarpaper shack in the depression—a very cool guy that on weekends would stop by our “Animal House” with a case of Lager quarts, work on cars and motorcycles with us and BS for hours.
After Randy got over his hangover he did what he always did; Randy accepted his circumstance, kept his sense of humor (and he was v-e-r-y funny) and pragmatically worked up a plan. The last thing that Randy wanted was to wind up in Vietnam so he decided the best thing was to join the Coast Guard. Problem was, as he soon discovered, suddenly a whole bunch of folks were trying to join the Coast Guard. But, Randy being Randy, he found a way to “land on his feet”. The one thing that, up to this point, had kept Randy’s GPA just high enough to stay in school was that he was the First Trumpet in the College Band and Orchestra. He was good, real good, and used to joke that he learned to play the trumpet so that he could master “Triple Tongue” technique and that that was the “secret” to his success with all the “Foxes” we had envied him for dating up to, and including, when he fell in love with Alice.
The Coast Guard accepted Randy’s enlistment in a heartbeat and after Basic Training he was to be assigned to a Parade Band. Once he was in Randy, always the pragmatic one, determined that playing trumpet for the rest of his life was not a way to support Alice, whom he had become engaged to before he left for his hitch and, due to his aptitude test, finagled his way a few months after completing his Basic Training to be sent to “Electronics and Radar Man Specialist School”. Randy wanted to learn something that he could use after his hitch and that he knew he could be good at.
Randy completed his Specialist School with high marks and received his duty assignment—Hawaii! He was ecstatic, proposed to Alice during his pre-deployment leave and plans were made that they would be married in 1 year after she finished her Degree in Elementary Education. A happy man he was the morning he boarded his Coast Guard Transport flight to Honolulu.
On the flight was Fred Martin, whom Randy had gone to Specialist School with. He was a couple of years older than Randy and was married with a toddler and his wife was several months pregnant. Randy said, “Man, can you believe it? We’re gong to Hawaii!” His buddy looked down in his lap and started to weep.
A few miles off the coast of Vietnam there is an island named Con Son. Not long ago Con Son had been taken by the ARVN and US Forces. Look Magazine had run an article about the “Tiger Cages” of Con Son where prisoners been had kept and tortured. Not only was Con Son subject to shelling but, due to the Radar and Electronic Intelligence Station the Coast Guard set up and manned there, it was a prime target for a all out commando assault.
When the transport landed in Hawaii Randy proceeded directly to the Base Personnel Officer and said, “I want to switch duty assignments with Fred Martin.”
“Why?” asked the Officer.
“Because, it’s the right thing for me to do,” Randy answered, “It’s what I’m here to do.” After an interview with the Base Commander, Randy’s orders were changed and in 3 days he was on a Transport Flight to Vietnam.
Before Randy left he posted a letter to his betrothed, told her what he had done and that if he survived his 18 months on Con Son he would be back and they would be married. He also told her in the letter that he wanted her to take whatever time she needed to think about all this and that if she wanted “out” he understood and that he would be Okay with whatever she decided.
On the coast of California at Point Conception on the cliffs above the azure blue Pacific there sits a Coast Guard Lighthouse and high on a bluff overlooking the Lighthouse is a three story white stucco Spanish-style Lighthouse Keepers cottage. It is one of the most breathtaking venues my eyes have ever seen…a truly magical place.
When Randy arrived back at the main Coast Guard command base the Base Commander summoned him to his office. Randy wasn’t sure what it was all about, other than the fact that he had served 18 months in a Combat Zone and had survived the shelling and several commando assaults and he was gonna get an “attaboy”…or, more probably, he was in deep shit for getting picked up by the Shore Patrol after his drinking spree during his layover in Honolulu on his trip home.
He walked into the Base Commanders office and the very same Officer that he had convinced to change his orders sending him to Con Son stood, saluted him, and handed Randy his Orders for the final 2 years of his Coast Guard service—Lighthouse Keeper at Point Conception, California.
Randy and his Bride, Alice, lived at Point Conception until his discharge. They live in California in a very comfortable home that Randy self contracted and mostly built with his own hands. Alice recently retired from her position as an Elementary School Teacher and Randy is semi-retired from his successful Electrical Contracting business. They have a life filled with grandchildren and travel.
I apologize that this post is so long…I just couldn’t do “justice” to my friend in fewer words.
Face
I am re-posting my kindess story that got "ate" when the server crashed. Thank all y'all for your very kind responses the first time this story was posted.
In 1969 the US held the first Draft Lottery for the Vietnam War. Millions of men between the ages of 18-26 were riveted to the TV getting drunk, stoned or both at “Draft Lottery Parties.”
The bottom line was that if your Birthday was selected in the first 50 or so you were 100% gonna get drafted if you were classified as 1A (eligible for immediate induction). If you had a 2S Student Deferment (like me and the other dozen or so guys at my draft party) then your number would be used in a subsequent annual draft pool when your deferment was gone by either Graduation or dropping out from or failing college. Although I had initially been 4F due to my “Post Concussive Syndrome” my status had been revised to 1A in ’68 (that’s part of my “What and Why” story if and when I get around to finishing it). If your # was 50 to approximately 140 it was incrementally shrinking odds from 99% to 50% to 1% and from 140 to 240 or so. From around 240 on up to 366 you were pretty much home free for life, short of WWIII...
This lottery had a huge “pool” and the subsequent lotteries would be only males turning 18 in that calendar year. Those that had mid-range probabilities had an indeterminable draft risk in subsequent years after their 2S was gone. As are the vagaries of the “Law of Probability” our little group that night had the whole gamut of “Winning and Losing” numbers. Two of us were “bullet proof” for now—yours truly and my to this day life long friend Tom. The rest were in varying degrees of “peril” with the exception of my very, very close best “Bud”, Randy. Randy’s # was 5. Randy was gonna get drafted now or when he lost his 2S in a year or two, if he made it to graduation. Randy was struggling and on Academic Probation and was an eyelash away from being expelled after current term grades and he knew it…we all knew it.
Randy could fix anything mechanical or electrical. He was our “go to” guy re: how to get chicks. Randy’s girlfriend, Alice, was an Honors Student, a real knockout and sweet, sweet, sweet. His father was an electrician with an 8th grade education that grew up in a tarpaper shack in the depression—a very cool guy that on weekends would stop by our “Animal House” with a case of Lager quarts, work on cars and motorcycles with us and BS for hours.
After Randy got over his hangover he did what he always did; Randy accepted his circumstance, kept his sense of humor (and he was v-e-r-y funny) and pragmatically worked up a plan. The last thing that Randy wanted was to wind up in Vietnam so he decided the best thing was to join the Coast Guard. Problem was, as he soon discovered, suddenly a whole bunch of folks were trying to join the Coast Guard. But, Randy being Randy, he found a way to “land on his feet”. The one thing that, up to this point, had kept Randy’s GPA just high enough to stay in school was that he was the First Trumpet in the College Band and Orchestra. He was good, real good, and used to joke that he learned to play the trumpet so that he could master “Triple Tongue” technique and that that was the “secret” to his success with all the “Foxes” we had envied him for dating up to, and including, when he fell in love with Alice.
The Coast Guard accepted Randy’s enlistment in a heartbeat and after Basic Training he was to be assigned to a Parade Band. Once he was in Randy, always the pragmatic one, determined that playing trumpet for the rest of his life was not a way to support Alice, whom he had become engaged to before he left for his hitch and, due to his aptitude test, finagled his way a few months after completing his Basic Training to be sent to “Electronics and Radar Man Specialist School”. Randy wanted to learn something that he could use after his hitch and that he knew he could be good at.
Randy completed his Specialist School with high marks and received his duty assignment—Hawaii! He was ecstatic, proposed to Alice during his pre-deployment leave and plans were made that they would be married in 1 year after she finished her Degree in Elementary Education. A happy man he was the morning he boarded his Coast Guard Transport flight to Honolulu.
On the flight was Fred Martin, whom Randy had gone to Specialist School with. He was a couple of years older than Randy and was married with a toddler and his wife was several months pregnant. Randy said, “Man, can you believe it? We’re gong to Hawaii!” His buddy looked down in his lap and started to weep.
A few miles off the coast of Vietnam there is an island named Con Son. Not long ago Con Son had been taken by the ARVN and US Forces. Look Magazine had run an article about the “Tiger Cages” of Con Son where prisoners been had kept and tortured. Not only was Con Son subject to shelling but, due to the Radar and Electronic Intelligence Station the Coast Guard set up and manned there, it was a prime target for a all out commando assault.
When the transport landed in Hawaii Randy proceeded directly to the Base Personnel Officer and said, “I want to switch duty assignments with Fred Martin.”
“Why?” asked the Officer.
“Because, it’s the right thing for me to do,” Randy answered, “It’s what I’m here to do.” After an interview with the Base Commander, Randy’s orders were changed and in 3 days he was on a Transport Flight to Vietnam.
Before Randy left he posted a letter to his betrothed, told her what he had done and that if he survived his 18 months on Con Son he would be back and they would be married. He also told her in the letter that he wanted her to take whatever time she needed to think about all this and that if she wanted “out” he understood and that he would be Okay with whatever she decided.
On the coast of California at Point Conception on the cliffs above the azure blue Pacific there sits a Coast Guard Lighthouse and high on a bluff overlooking the Lighthouse is a three story white stucco Spanish-style Lighthouse Keepers cottage. It is one of the most breathtaking venues my eyes have ever seen…a truly magical place.
When Randy arrived back at the main Coast Guard command base the Base Commander summoned him to his office. Randy wasn’t sure what it was all about, other than the fact that he had served 18 months in a Combat Zone and had survived the shelling and several commando assaults and he was gonna get an “attaboy”…or, more probably, he was in deep shit for getting picked up by the Shore Patrol after his drinking spree during his layover in Honolulu on his trip home.
He walked into the Base Commanders office and the very same Officer that he had convinced to change his orders sending him to Con Son stood, saluted him, and handed Randy his Orders for the final 2 years of his Coast Guard service—Lighthouse Keeper at Point Conception, California.
Randy and his Bride, Alice, lived at Point Conception until his discharge. They live in California in a very comfortable home that Randy self contracted and mostly built with his own hands. Alice recently retired from her position as an Elementary School Teacher and Randy is semi-retired from his successful Electrical Contracting business. They have a life filled with grandchildren and travel.
I apologize that this post is so long…I just couldn’t do “justice” to my friend in fewer words.
Face
Last edited:
Ted
Gold Meritorious Patron
I am re-posting my kindess story that got "ate" when the server crashed. Thank all y'all for your very kind responses the first time this story was posted.
In 1969 the US held the first Draft Lottery for the Vietnam War. Millions of men between the ages of 18-26 were riveted to the TV getting drunk, stoned or both at “Draft Lottery Parties.”
The bottom line was that if your Birthday was selected in the first 50 or so you were 100% gonna get drafted if you were classified as 1A (eligible for immediate induction). If you had a 2S Student Deferment (like me and the other dozen or so guys at my draft party) then your number would be used in a subsequent annual draft pool when your deferment was gone by either Graduation or dropping out from or failing college. Although I had initially been 4F due to my “Post Concussive Syndrome” my status had been revised to 1A in ’68 (that’s part of my “What and Why” story if and when I get around to finishing it). If your # was 50 to approximately 140 it was incrementally shrinking odds from 99% to 50% to 1% and from 140 to 240 or so. From around 240 on up to 366 you were pretty much home free for life, short of WWIII...
This lottery had a huge “pool” and the subsequent lotteries would be only males turning 18 in that calendar year. Those that had mid-range probabilities had an indeterminable draft risk in subsequent years after their 2S was gone. As are the vagaries of the “Law of Probability” our little group that night had the whole gamut of “Winning and Losing” numbers. Two of us were “bullet proof” for now—yours truly and my to this day life long friend Tom. The rest were in varying degrees of “peril” with the exception of me very, very close best “Bud”, Randy. Randy’s # was 5. Randy was gonna get drafted now or when he lost his 2S in a year or two, if he made it to graduation. Randy was struggling and on Academic Probation and was and eyelash away from being expelled after current term grades and he knew it…we all knew it.
Randy could fix anything mechanical or electrical. He was our “go to” guy re: how to get chicks. Randy’s girlfriend, Alice, was an Honors Student, a real knockout and sweet, sweet, sweet. His father was an electrician with an 8th grade education that grew up in a tarpaper shack in the depression—a very cool guy that on weekends would stop by our “Animal House” with a case of Lager quarts, work on cars and motorcycles with us and BS for hours.
After Randy got over his hangover he did what he always did; Randy accepted his circumstance, kept his sense of humor (and he was v-e-r-y funny) and pragmatically worked up a plan. The last thing that Randy wanted was to wind up in Vietnam so he decided the best thing was to join the Coast Guard. Problem was, as he soon discovered, suddenly a whole bunch of folks were trying to join the Coast Guard. But, Randy being Randy, he found a way to “land on his feet”. The one thing that, up to this point, had kept Randy’s GPA just high enough to stay in school was that he was the First Trumpet in the College Band and Orchestra. He was good, real good, and used to joke that he learned to play the trumpet so that he could master “Triple Tongue” technique and that that was the “secret” to his success with all the “Foxes” we had envied him for dating up to, and including, when he fell in love with Alice.
The Coast Guard accepted Randy’s enlistment in a heartbeat and after Basic Training he was to be assigned to a Parade Band. Once he was in Randy, always the pragmatic one, determined that playing trumpet for the rest of his life was not a way to support Alice, whom he had become engaged to before he left for his hitch and, due to his aptitude test, finagled his way a few months after completing his Basic Training to be sent to “Electronics and Radar Man Specialist School”. Randy wanted to learn something that he could use after his hitch and that he knew he could be good at.
Randy completed his Specialist School with high marks and received his duty assignment—Hawaii! He was ecstatic, proposed to Alice during his pre-deployment leave and plans were made that they would be married in 1 year after she finished her Degree in Elementary Education. A happy man he was the morning he boarded his Coast Guard Transport flight to Honolulu.
On the flight was Fred Martin, whom Randy had gone to Specialist School with. He was a couple of years older than Randy and was married with a toddler and his wife was several months pregnant. Randy said, “Man, can you believe it? We’re gong to Hawaii!” His buddy looked down in his lap and started to weep.
A few miles off the coast of Vietnam there is an island named Con Son. Not long ago Con Son had been taken by the ARVN and Us Forces. Look Magazine had run an article about the “Tiger Cages” of Con Son where prisoners been had kept and tortured. Not only was Con Son subject to shelling but, due to the Radar and Electronic Intelligence Station the Coast Guard set up and manned there, it was a prime target for a all out commando assault.
When the transport landed in Hawaii Randy proceeded directly to the Base Personnel Officer and said, “I want to switch duty assignments with Fred Martin.”
“Why?” asked the Officer.
“Because, it’s the right thing for me to do,” Randy answered, “It’s what I’m here to do.” After an interview with the Base Commander, Randy’s orders were changed and in 3 days he was on a Transport Flight to Vietnam.
Before Randy left he posted a letter to his betrothed, told her what he had done and that if he survived his 18 months on Con Son he would be back and they would be married. He also told her in the letter that he wanted her to take whatever time she needed to think about all this and that if she wanted “out” he understood and that he would be Okay with whatever she decided.
On the coast of California at Point Conception on the cliffs above the azure blue Pacific there Coast Guard Lighthouse and high on a bluff overlooking the Lighthouse is a three story white Spanish stucco Lighthouse Keepers cottage. It is one of the most breathtaking venues my eyes have ever seen…a truly magical place.
When Randy arrived back at the main Coast Guard command base the Base Commander summoned him to his office. Randy wasn’t sure what it was all about, other than the fact that he had served 18 months in a Combat Zone and had survived the shelling and several commando assaults and he was gonna get an “attaboy”…or, more probably, he was in deep shit for getting picked up by the Shore Patrol after his drinking spree during his layover in Honolulu on his trip home.
He walked into the Base Commanders office and the very same Officer that he had convinced to change his orders sending him to Con Son stood, saluted him, and handed Randy his Orders for the final 2 years of his Coast Guard service—Lighthouse Keeper at Point Conception, California.
Randy and his Bride, Alice, lived at Point Conception until his discharge. They live in California in a very comfortable home that Randy self contracted and mostly built with his own hands. Alice recently retired from her position as an Elementary School Teacher and Randy is semi-retired from his successful Electrical Contracting business. They have a life filled with grandchildren and travel.
I apologize that this post is so long…I just couldn’t do “justice” to my friend in fewer words.
Face
I for one have no problem with a long, well-written post.
Not being certain if they are read or not, I tend to favor writing shorter postings as it takes some time and energy to put something meaningful together. That's just me.
You are always read and appreciated so carry on!
CarmeloOrchards
Crusader
I for one have no problem with a long, well-written post.
Not being certain if they are read or not, I tend to favor writing shorter postings as it takes some time and energy to put something meaningful together. That's just me.
You are always read and appreciated so carry on!
this thread has a sweet magic pull to it, FOR ME, I would not voluntarily look at a youtube opera, but I did, and i liked it. i know youse guys and gals ain't gonna be judgmental about what I post and vice versa. Ifn my english ain't proper, no red marks on my post. Weuns have a gud li'l thing goin'. we has smart people pointing out special things to each of us.
Face really really adjusted my viewpoint of LRH. I'm much more realistic having ever read what he has written.
Having dodged the draft in every single way possible, I found it really cool to see how someone could have gone to Nam and been a white knight, not a drone.
Thank god, that we have each other to help us look beyond our own stuff.
afaceinthecrowd
Gold Meritorious Patron
I for one have no problem with a long, well-written post.
Not being certain if they are read or not, I tend to favor writing shorter postings as it takes some time and energy to put something meaningful together. That's just me.
You are always read and appreciated so carry on!
Thanks Pal...I appreciate that a whole bunch!
Face
afaceinthecrowd
Gold Meritorious Patron
Carmelo,
I am very thankful to have had folks like you to share my viewpoint with after all these years.
Really g-o-o-d s-t-u-f-f about "stuff".
Face
Dilettante
Patron Meritorious
Kindness
Thank you for sharing the story Face! I'm going to borrow from Lakey on this one (borrowed from Mozart)
"Too many notes Majesty, I don't understand. There are just as many notes as required, neither more nor less."
Your composition came together nicely.
Thank you for sharing the story Face! I'm going to borrow from Lakey on this one (borrowed from Mozart)
"Too many notes Majesty, I don't understand. There are just as many notes as required, neither more nor less."
Your composition came together nicely.
RogerB
Crusader
Gotta say I'm delighted you posted the Kindness story again, Face.
It caused me to again be reminded of the decency among us . . . and that is a good thing.
I also now begin to think that is a key to why this thread has blossomed. The folks who have populated it are decent with each other. The put-down artist types have not featured here, and so we can have illuminating exchanges and some good clean fun.
Rog
It caused me to again be reminded of the decency among us . . . and that is a good thing.
I also now begin to think that is a key to why this thread has blossomed. The folks who have populated it are decent with each other. The put-down artist types have not featured here, and so we can have illuminating exchanges and some good clean fun.
Rog
dexter gelfand
Patron Meritorious
Hatshepsut
Crusader
I appreciate this more every day__this thread and this board and the people on it.
SweetnessandLight
Crusader
Big Hugs!!!
My Pals!!!
My Pals!!!
Dilettante
Patron Meritorious
Cheers
Dilettante
Dilettante
SweetnessandLight
Crusader
Thank you!
Well, this was a two hanky story for me...both 'cause my Dad was a Coastie
, and I'm a sucker for kindness!!!
Thanks very much Facey, for sharing this with us!!!
You just keep on writing those long posts...and quit apologizing for them!!!
In 1969 the US held the first Draft Lottery for the Vietnam War. Millions of men between the ages of 18-26 were riveted to the TV getting drunk, stoned or both at “Draft Lottery Parties.”
The bottom line was that if your Birthday was selected in the first 50 or so you were 100% gonna get drafted if you were classified as 1A (eligible for immediate induction). If you had a 2S Student Deferment (like me and the other dozen or so guys at my draft party) then your number would be used in a subsequent annual draft pool when your deferment was gone by either Graduation or dropping out from or failing college. Although I had initially been 4F due to my “Post Concussive Syndrome” my status had been revised to 1A in ’68 (that’s part of my “What and Why” story if and when I get around to finishing it). If your # was 50 to approximately 140 it was incrementally shrinking odds from 99% to 50% to 1% and from 140 to 240 or so. From around 240 on up to 366 you were pretty much home free for life, short of WWIII.
This lottery had a huge “pool” and the subsequent lotteries would be only males turning 18 in that calendar year. Those that had mid-range probabilities had an indeterminable draft risk in subsequent years after their 2S was gone. As are the vagaries of the “Laws of Probability” our little group that night had the whole gamut of “Winning to Losing” numbers. Two of us were “bullet proof” for now—yours truly and my to this day life long friend Tom. The rest were in varying degrees of “peril” with the exception of me very, very close best “Bud”, Randy. Randy’s # was 5. Randy was gonna get drafted now or when he lost his 2S in a year or two, if he made it to graduation. Randy was struggling and on Academic Probation and was and eyelash away from being expelled after current term grades and he knew it…we all knew it.
Randy could fix anything mechanical or electrical. He was our “go to” guy re: how to get chicks. Randy’s girlfriend, Alice, was an Honors Student, a real knockout and sweet, sweet, sweet. His father was an electrician with an 8th grade education that grew up in a tarpaper shack in the depression—a very cool guy that on weekends would stop by our “Animal House” with a case of Lager quarts, work on cars and motorcycles with us and BS for hours.
After Randy got over his hangover he did what he always did; Randy accepted his circumstance, kept his sense of humor (and he was v-e-r-y funny) and pragmatically worked up a plan. The last thing that Randy wanted was to wind up in Vietnam so he decided the best thing was to join the Coast Guard. Problem was, as he soon discovered, was suddenly a whole bunch of folks were trying to join the Coast Guard. But, Randy being Randy, he found a way to “land on his feet”. The one thing that, up to this point, had kept Randy’s GPA just high enough to stay in school was that he was the First Trumpet in the College Band and Orchestra. He was good, real good, and used to joke that he learned to play the trumpet so that he could master “Triple Tongue” technique and that that was the “secret” to his success with all the “Foxes” we had envied him for dating up to, and including, when he fell in love with Alice.
The Coast Guard accepted Randy’s enlistment in a heartbeat and after Basic Training he was to be assigned to a Parade Band. Once he was in Randy, always the pragmatic one, determined that playing trumpet for the rest of his life was not a way to support Alice, whom he had become engaged to before he left for his hitch and, due to his aptitude test, finagled his way a few months after completing his Basic Training to be sent to “Electronics and Radar Man Specialist School”. Randy wanted to learn something that he could use after his hitch and that he knew he could be good at.
Randy completed his Specialist School with high marks and received his duty assignment—Hawaii! He was ecstatic, proposed to Alice during his pre-deployment leave and plans were made that they would be married in 1 year after she finished her Degree in Elementary Education. A happy man he was the morning he boarded his Coast Guard Transport flight to Honolulu.
On the flight was Fred Martin, whom Randy had gone to Specialist School with. He was a couple of years older than Randy and was married with a toddler and his wife was several months pregnant. Randy said, “Man, can you believe it? We’re gong to Hawaii!” His buddy looked down in his lap and started to weep.
A few miles off the coast on the DMZ there is an island named Con Son. Not long before, Con Son had been taken by the ARVN and Us Forces. After that successful assault Look Magazine had run an article about the “Tiger Cages” of Con Son where the NVA had kept and tortured POW’s. Not only was Con Son subject to shelling, due to the Radar and Electronic Intelligence Station the Coast Guard set up and manned there, it was a prime target for a all out commando assault.
When the transport landed Randy proceeded directly to the Base Personnel Officer and said, “I want to switch duty assignments with Fred Martin.”
“Why?” asked the Officer.
“Because, it’s the right thing for me to do,” Randy answered, “It’s what I’m here to do.”
After an interview with the Base Commander, Randy’s orders were changed and in 3 days he was on a Transport Flight to Vietnam.
Before Randy left he posted a letter to his betrothed, told her what he had done and that if he survived his 18 months on Con Son he would be back and they would be married. He also told her in the letter that he wanted her to take whatever time she needed to think about all this and that if she wanted “out” he understood and that he would be Okay with whatever she decided.
On the coast of California at Point Conception, high on the cliffs above the azure blue Pacific, sits a Coast Guard Lighthouse with a three story white Spanish stucco Lighthouse Keepers cottage and a small cemetary. It is one of the most breathtaking venues my eyes have ever seen…a truly magical place.
When Randy arrived back at the main Coast Guard command base the Base Commander summoned him to his office. Randy wasn’t sure what it was all about, other than the fact that he had served 18 months in a Combat Zone and had survived the shelling and several commando assaults and he was gonna get an “attaboy”…or, more probably, he was in deep shit for getting picked up by the Shore Patrol after his drinking spree during his layover in Honolulu on his trip home.
He walked into the Base Commanders office and the very same Officer that he had convinced to change his orders sending him to Con Son stood, saluted him, and handed Randy his Orders for the final 2 years of his Coast Guard service—Lighthouse Keeper at Point Conception, California.
Randy and his Bride, Alice, lived at Point Conception until his discharge. Today, they live in California in a very comfortable home that Randy self contracted and mostly built with his own hands. Alice recently retired from her position as an Elementary School Teacher and Randy is semi-retired from his successful Electrical Contracting business. They have a life filled with grandchildren
I apologize that this post is so long…I just couldn’t do “justice” to my friend in fewer words.
Face
Well, this was a two hanky
story for me...both 'cause my Dad was a Coastie, and I'm a sucker for kindness!!! Thanks very much Facey, for sharing this with us!!!
You just keep on writing those long posts...and quit apologizing for them!!!
- Status