Roughed up by the Little Guy

We were in Mr. S's gym class engaged in a raucous game of rugby. I had the ball in hand and was moving with dispatch towards the goal line. I was a rather big fellow in those day and getting all of that heft moving in any direction, much less forward, was quite an accomplishment. I was feelin' good.

As I crossed each yard marker I had one thought in mind and that was to SCORE! As my Mother would always say "I was bound and determined". There was one person between me and the goal: Daryl T. Tall and skinny, Daryl was not what I would call a formidable opponent so I set my sights on him, thinking that I would crush him on my way to rugby immortality. I was acting like a jerk but I didn't care. I rarely got to carry the ball and this was my big chance to show em' all. Moving at the speed of heat and with dirt flying beneath my sneakers, I closed the distance between the ill fated Daryl and I.

As I drew closer to Daryl something very strange occurred. I looked in his eyes, expecting to see stark terror and a wide eyed acknowledgement of his impending doom. Instead I witnessed an unnerving calm and a devilish smile that forced me to consider what Daryl might know that I didn't. Closer and closer, moving now with all the inertia that I could amass, I began to wonder, "Perhaps running over Daryl was not the best decision I could have made". Too late. I kept the locomotive moving.

15 feet to go, then 10, then 5. There was fire in my eyes as I closed the last few steps to Daryl, knowing that after Daryl there was nothing between me and rugby fame and fortune. And that's when it happened. Daryl T. did the last thing on earth I would have expected. He dropped to the ground in the fetal position, rolled up in a tight ball and covered his head with his hands. I could not deviate to the left nor to the right. Now the stark terror was all mine as I hit Daryl full force with both feet. I went flying head over heals. Higher and higher my big body flew. I landed flat on my back, the ball slipping from my grasp as I tried mightily to catch my breath. I looked like a dazed elephant who had been rolling about in the dusty red earth of the Serengeti.

"Holy sh-t, M., are you all right?", a class mate asked. He was smiling, almost laughing. I opened my grime filled mouth to respond but nothing came out, save a little dust. Then the laughs came. Full, hearty, knee slapping laughs that told me it would take years of fabricated machismo to live this down. As I managed to get up on my elbows I saw two things that forced me to collapse my body back to the ground, close my eyes and think about completing my "high school experience" at the innocuous Queen Anne High. The first thing I saw was a class mate picking up the ball and merrily heading off to score. "Hay. That was my goal", I gasped. The second was Daryl T. getting up and dusting himself off while looking down at me with that same divilish grin. I looked up and smiled, my lips heavily crusted with dirt. The smile was a demonstration of my new found respect for Daryl T.

Truth be told, Daryl T. and I both knew that on that date in our young lives, I had been bested and he was, indeed, the man.

Andy S. came flying over to me to see if I was hurt but he, too, was laughing. Not a mean laugh but a laugh nonetheless. "You OK, big fella?" he asked. "Yes Sir", I said lamely. As he helped me stand up I could not help but notice how Mr. S. absolutely reveled in this stuff. Dirt, collisions and an ultimate victory of David over Goliath. He loved it all.

And we loved him because he always let us play.
May he rest in peace.

Boston, You're My Home

Reporting today from Boston, MA. It is sunny and cold with a stiff wind from the west adding to one's displeasure with the elements. But sunny is the key word today in Boston as those in the Great Northwest spend yet another day beneath the clouds. (My wife told me). But fear not, Washingtonians, there is a sun out there and today it is located in Boston.

Boston is amazing. Historically, Boston dates back to the early 1600's, making Seattle look like a petulant teenager . Great places to walk, eat and visit all of which in some way seem to be connected to the birth of our nation (or so they say). And the clam chowder (or chowda, as it is pronounced here) rivals that of our home state, at times besting it.

Everyone here speaks very loudly, ALL THE TIME. The town of Peabody is not pronounced Peabody. It is "Peebiddy", said very fast. Worchester is "Wooster", Boston is "Bawstin" and on and on. They love the Red Sox, hate the Yankees and swear by the Patriots. They hate BS and call it as they see it. I like these guys.

My grandmother and grandfather are products of Marblehead, an exclusive area just outside of Boston that was home to a large number of wealthy Irish immigrants at the turn of the 20th century. The wealth went away but the Irish in my family remained as I continuously worked to understand my grandmother when she asked if the "Kah in the garawg had a good battry ". (Car in the garage had a good battery). Or, if I were to inquire as to whether or not a gent standing nearby was from Ireland, grandmother would reply "Indeed, laddy, why he is as Irish as Patty's pig". You have got to love the Irish.

Boston is great. Visit if you get a chance. You will love it.

Off to Amsterdam today. Next enry: Bucket lists. Great idea. One idea for me is to walk the Pacific trail. Oh no, I felt a twinge in my knee when I wrote that. Good thing the Bucket list is just that...a list. More on that later.

Don't Let the Bastards Get you Down

Let me share a short story before I pass along one of the great pearls of wisdom that has helped carry me through the tough times in my life. It was my first day in the Navy. As a recent college graduate, I knew I would be treated with respect and quite possibly admiration by any of the Marine Drill Instructors that I would meet upon my arrival at AOCS. After all I was destined to become an Officer and a Gentleman. As it happened, minutes after my entry into the "Indoc" battalion headquarters I found myself face down on the deck doing push ups until my arms felt as if they were on fire, rapidly turning to rubber. Meanwhile, Staff Sargeant Penn, Indoctrination Battalion Marine Drill Instructor, was screaming profanities at me reaching decibel levels I did not think could be reached by the voice of a human being. That was my first clue that Marine Drill Instructors were, indeed, not human at all.
As sweat was poring from a thousand pores on my body I got a call to come to the quarterdeck (main entrance) to answer a personal phone call. It was my brother, Warrant Officer M.E.G., US Army. He thought it would be nice to say hi. "How is it going?" he asked. I told him that they obviously were not aware of how important I was for they were beating the tar out of me on a minute by minute basis. He laughed. (This is where the pearl of wisdom comes in) He said "Tim, whatever you do, don't let the bastards get you down". That was it. Simple. Elegant. To the point.

I live by that pearl. I relay it today to all others for use as needed. Remember, no matter how tough things get in this magnificent time continuum that we call life, we should never, ever let the bastards get us down.

Comments on Aging

I have a few comments regarding age 60 and retirement that I wish to add to the discussion. First, age 60.

Now remember, I am not quite 60. I am 59 years and 4 months on December 13. In denial? No, no, not me. (Maybe just a little). But, admittedly, there are little reminders that I may be headed in the "aging" direction at an accelerated pace. For instance, waking up in the great Northwest, looking out the window at the cold, misty air and the frost lined trees and thinking, in my younger days, that I could not wait to get outside. Nowadays, I straighten up my back, kick out my titanium inserted knee a couple of times to get the fluids running, slip into my fleece lined slippers and shuffle downstairs for my first cup of coffee and a look at the internet. Going outside? I think I will wait until it warms up a little bit.

When it is time to head out for the day, I bundle up to walk the 15 feet to my car, thinking, "perhaps I should get one of those hats with ear muffs that come down on both sides of the head. You know the hats I am talking about. They snap tightly around the chin. I like that. Kind of stylish, actually". When I am in the car I hit the radio button and turn on the only two stations that are preset. Oldies and classical. And I am off.

After a day of doing whatever it is that I do, I turn the car in the direction of home and allow it to take me there, almost like a horse returning to the barn. I am looking forward to the low cholesterol lunch I will eat and the nap I will take.

In the evening, I will have frozen yogurt instead of ice cream for desert, read a little, listen to the news and marvel at how the youth of this country just doesn't seem to get it (sound familiar?), slip on my fleece lined slippers and head for the sack.

If all of this resonates as a little "heavy" it is not meant to sound that way. I embrace this time of life. There are some things I do now that I did not do in my youth that have improved, sometimes dramatically, the quality of my day to day life. For example:

I listen more than ever. I hear what people are saying. I always ask them something about what they said after they said it. This allows them to know I am listening to them. Who knows, I might just learn something. I write down folks names so that I may recall it the next time I see the person. It always brings a smile to a person's face when you, at the very least, can address them by their first name.

I take off my sun glasses from time to time so I can see everything as it truly is. Doing so also allows me to remember exactly how a meadow appeared at a given moment, blanketed in early morning fog or how a tree turns colors as it continues its annual journey towards seasonal maturity.

I remove my Ipod earbuds during walks, halt, for a moment, the rocking and rolling and allow myself to be blanketed in the "sounds of silence".

And I breathe. Deep, deep breaths of our magnificent Northwest air. Doing so clears my eyesight, removes the cobwebs from my brain and sweeps negative thoughts from my mind.

So there you are. My thoughts of turning 60. I like where I have been and I love where I am headed. Fleece slippers and all.

Now, quick notes about retirement. I asked one friend how he likes retirement. His words "This is great!". I asked my brother, Glen, the elder in the family, the same question: The answer: "Retirement sucks!". I am not sure where to go with all of that. Think I will keep my job for a bit longer and work it all out some other time.

How to Ride on an Airplane: Comfortably.

As I sit in my room in Tokyo, once again on a 12 day trip that will have me in the air on the way to Osaka about the time you all sit down to turkey, I thought I would add a few thoughts and hints about how to travel on an aircraft under present day circumstances. There is a lot of information on the internet in addition to the suggestions in this entry but this advice comes straight from my own experience.

Let me start with the simple fact that if I did not fly airliners for a living I would be ever so reluctant to go to any airport in the United States to fly on an airliner regardless of the airline. That is not said from a safety standpoint. Not at all. I make that statement from the standpoint of someone who would rather drive an RV than go through the tremendous hassle involved with comtemporaneous air travel. All of that clearly stated, let's move on. Please keep in mind that air travel is the safest form of travel in the world. But, man, it can be tough of a man's (or woman's) patience.

1. Get to the airport earlier than you think you should. If you have a clock in your head that tells you that one and one half hours is adequate then make it two hours. The traffic congestion and confusing signs at most of todays airports is more than enough to create a high level of anxiety when you are trying to park, unload, get to the gate and get on the plane. So get to the airport early. Keep in mind that there are some entertaining things to see and do at most airports now that allow you to keep busy if you arrive early. I enjoy the people watching. Most excellent!

2. Check in 24 hours before the scheduled departure and while at home using the internet. You can move your seat to another available seat, check in and pay for bags before you leave the house. When you are done checking in, print your boarding pass and you are ready to go when you arrive. Speaking of seats, here is some "increase your comfort" ideas for selecting your seat.

a. If you are not riding in First Class try to select (on you home computer) an "exit row, isle" seat. Actualy, the best way to get one of these seats is to arrive at the gate at least one hour and fifteen minutes before departure and stand like a big lump right in front of the agent. The agent is the person that will assign the exit row seat. They hold these seats for assignment at the airport and they are the best seats on the airplane, sometimes rivaling First Class. Ask the agent for an "exit row seat, on the isle, that reclines". Some of these seats do not recline and if that matters to you then not having the seat recline will drive you nuts. Remember, with the exit row comes some responsibility. You must be willing to be the first one out of the aircraft if it becomes necessary to evacuate over the wing. Heck, who would not want to be the first one out during an evac? I recommend wherever you are sitting on any aircraft take a quick look around you while boarding. Look for the emergency rows and mentally plan your escape in the very unlikely event there is trouble.

b. If the exit row is taken (by the way, do not accept the exit row window seat. It is like sitting in a bucket and it rarely reclines) then ask for a seat that is behind the wing anywhere on the plane. Isle seats are always desirable. They give you a little room to breathe and they help in the event of an evac. Seats aft of the wing are statsically the safest on the plane. Not by much but statictics show that being in a seat behind the trailing edge of the wing is safer.

3. As you board look in the overhead as you walk to your seat. There may be a few pillows and blankets in the overhead. Grab a pillow and a blanket if they are there. It does not matter if it is not in the area where your seat is. These items are fair game and are there for the taking but there are few of them available so scarf them if you can. I always use one of these two items to stuff in the lower lumbar region of my back. This gives me added back support.

4. Do not put you things in an overhead bin unless it is near your seat. That said, do not hesitate to take any overhead space if you are one of the last folks on the airplane and the is simply nowhere else to put your bag. I have seen people come completely unglued because they believed someone had swiped "their" space in the overhead.

5. Make some sandwiches at home to take to the airport. I usually get quite hungry on the longer flights and the food they offer is "garbagio". And take a plastc water bottle, empty, through security. When you get on the other side fill it with water from the fountain. This saves money and allows you to hydrate on the plane if you are unable to get enough water from the flight attendants. All planes dehydrate you, except the 787. It will be great when it arrives.

6. Last suggestion: take it easy on the booze. Your body feels like it is at 8,000 feet on any typical flight. Because you are flying at, say, 37,000 feet the pressurization system keeps the cabin at a comfortable 8,000 feet. But that is like going to the top of an 8,000 moountain. Booze will get you drunk faster and if you are unfortunate enough to be flying when the hangover hits (LA to Tokyo) it will hurt just that much more.

That is it for this episode of "Tim knows a whole bunch of stuff about planes and stuff". I hope it makes your flying a little less onerous.

ps I do not think I know a Brian Mathesson. One of our Captains is Eric Mathisson.

ps I don't have my draft card either. I went for the physical in crutches at Lake Union and promptly flunked for having had multiple surgeries on the left knee. Then I subsequently joined the Navy to fly planes. Ah, but I do have my dad's draft card from WW2, "The Big One".

Everyone's travel stories are great. It is obvious that we all have a tale to tell when it comes to travel. Next entry: What do I do to survive the TSA (take your hand out of my waist band, sir, thank you very much!) and other related topics.

Boston, You're My Home

Hi Folks,

Reporting today from Boston, MA. It is sunny and cold with a stiff wind adding to a bodys displeasure with the elements. But sunny is the key word as those of you in the Great Northwest spend yet another day beneath the clouds. (My wife told me). But fear not, there is a sun out there and today it is located in Boston.

Boston is amazing. Historically Boston makes Seattle look like a petulant teenager, its existence dating back to the early 1600's. Great places to walk, eat and visit all of which in some way seem to be connected to the birth of our nation (or so they say). And the clam chowder (or chowda, as it is pronounced here) rivals that of our home state, at times besting it.

Everyone here speaks very loudly, ALL THE TIME. The town of Peabody is not pronounced Peabody. It is "Peebiddy", said very fast. Worchester is "Wooster", Boston is "Bawstin" and on and on. They love the Red Sox, hate the Yankees and swear by the Patriots. They hate BS and call it as they see it. I like these guys.

My grandmother and grandfather are products of Marblehead, an exclusive area just outside of Boston that was home to a large number of Irish immigrants at the turn of the 20th century. The life style in Marblehead went away but the Irish in my family remained as, in my youth, I continuously worked to understand my grandmother when she asked if the "Kah in the garawje had a good battry ". (Car in the garage had a good battery"). Or, if I were to inquire as to whether or not someone was from Irish descent, grandmother would reply ""Indeed, laddy, why he is as Irish as Patty's pig". You have got to love the Irish.

Boston is great. Visit if you get a chance. You will love it.

Off to Amsterdam today.

The Sadness in Japan

A Japan update.

I landed in Japan last evening about 5pm local time. Weather was clear and quite cool as we departed the terminal for the hotel bus. The ride to the hotel was fairly normal but when we arrived all the lights were off in the main entrance to the hotel, part of a "rolling blackout". This lasted for about 2 hours and the energy has been turned on ever since. Hot water is at a premium and food, although not scarce, is limited.

It is now 7:30 AM on the 18th of March (3:30PM on the 17th for you guys) and the sun is shining. The cold air is a good sign because it tells us that the winds are blowing from the northwest, taking any possible radiation out to sea. The wind is set to stop blowing, a result of a high pressure area moving in, and will most likely be light and variable soon after that happens. That may cause problems for the people trying to keep radiation, resulting from the deteriorating situation at the reactors about a hundred miles north, at safe levels. The weather is a crucial part of all of this, particularly the wind velocity and direction. As you watch this situation unfold pay attention not just to the progress, or lack of progress, at the reactors. Keep an eye on what they say about wind speed and direction. That will tell you a lot about what will happen next.

As a crew member there is genuine concern over the radiation blowoff from the reactors. We are briefed frequently about the situation but it is not hard to see that most countries are allowing their people to evacuate, forcing us to wonder what the heck we are still doing here. I have not gone for a walk yet, my usual custom, because they tell us to remain close to the hotel in the event of a rapid evac. That would only occur if things got really bad up north or the wind shifted precipitously from the northeast, blowing radiation particles from the reactors towards Tokyo. Our hotel is located between the reactor and Tokyo.

The Japanese people are almost "deer in the headlights" stunned. They work hard to function at their jobs, many glad to have a job to help defer some of the sadness and grief. They clean small areas when there is devastation all around in an effort to grasp some sense of the chasm between the reality that they have known for generations and their "new" reality. One of destruction, uncertainty and sadness.

As for me, well, this is a new one for me. In all the years of flying that I have done I have never seen nor been a part of such a monumental, almost supernatural disembowelment of large parts of a society such as the one that has just occurred in Japan. This could very well take generations to bring it back to the peaceful, quiet, productive society that it has been for over 1700 years.

I will going to Bangkok tonight. I suspect there are many folks here in Japan that wish they could be going with me. This is a darn shame.