OK, I stole the title from Marble's Products. But I really like it, and in this day and time, there probably aren't many people that remember when Marble's used that by-line.
I don't live life in the open as much as I would like to. If I could have chosen my exact path through life, I would have spent much more time outside. Not just outside the house, but OUTSIDE the normal American lifestyle as well.
I have spent time in the jungle, the desert, on the ocean. I've drank beer on the Carlsberg brewery tour. I've walked up Perdiz on the Patagonia. I've shot geese in the grain fields of Saskatchewan and Eiders off the coast of Maine. I've canoed some "rowdy stretches". I've been bitten by a rattlesnake. I had a Beagle run a pair of wolves. I've seen the "foxfire" in the woods. Carried home a pocketful of persimmons wrapped in my handkerchief. Cooked fish over a can of Sterno. Had 10 feet of air under my Jeep. Cleaned a 571 pound Black Bear with a pocket knife. Killed a whitetail deer, running, at over 400 yards. Killed a 100 ducks in a morning. Killed more rabbits that 2 men could carry to the house. Shot pigeons in a blizzard at 10 below zero. Locked out of a submarine. Made a crash landing in a C5 Galaxy. Sat on the Little Mermaid's lap. Watched the Celtics play at Boston Garden. Saw Van Halen live. Stood on the Royal yard of the Eagle. Killed a banded Brant. Won a bronze medal in the National Trophy Match at Camp Perry.
But I've never camped a night in the high mountains. Never watched a herd of African plains game come to a water hole. Never seen a Polar Bear swimming in the open sea. Never been in a gunfight (in peacetime). Never got to meet Earnhardt, Ray Nitschke, or Larry Bird. Never seen a Leprechaun. Never lived in a log cabin. Never seen a steam locomotive. Never had to treat a "sucking chest wound" (on a human). Sorry to admit, I'm not all that good with an ax. Never seen Sasquatch. BUT, I'm only 57 so I might accomplish a few of those things before I die.
Part of my mental picture of "life in the open" is the literal sense of those words. Knowing how to predict weather from looking at nature around you, for example. Many times I can tell when rain is coming. Sometimes I can tell how severe the Winter is going to be. I like being able to look over the landscape and immediately be able to pick a likely place to camp, hunt, fish, find a little natural snack, watch for anyone coming, that I don't want to find me. I see more wildlife than most people, just because I am always on the lookout for what is around me. I enjoy the extremes of weather more than anyone I know. But I am far from being a true outdoorsman. I probably know more than I can recall, maybe if I was put in a certain circumstance, some of my suppressed memories would come back.
I have tried to teach my sons everything that I know. In some areas they have surpassed me; in others they aren't even close. So I keep working at it. I want my grandsons to be totally comfortable outdoors. My sons and I are pretty well set, and with life slipping away from me at an alarming rate, I guess I could just relax and enjoy what I have. But there is so much more out there, and I think I want a bigger piece of it.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Extortion 17
On a great day in American History - May 1, 2011, members of the United States' premier fighting force, Seal Team 6, killed Osama Bin Laden. He was a murdering terrorist, mostly responsible for the World Trade Center bombing. He was a coward. He hid behind his god, behind thousands of ignorant cowards, behind crooked politicians. He hid fairly well. It took us a long time to find him and bring him to justice. Battlefield justice. Now he is but a rotting corpse, and in a few years people will have all but forgotten him.
Unfortunately, due, I am sure, to some other cowards, the members of Seal Team 6 were targeted for revenge. Whether from an infiltrator, or due to some carelessness, somehow the Taliban or Al-Queda got information that Seal Team 6 was the emergency reaction force that was on call at the time. On August 6, 2011, when an Army Ranger unit was in a grave situation, Extortion 17 (call sign for the Seal unit) was sent to help them out. No one should have known, but somehow the intel was leaked and an ambush was set. Their CH-47 Helicopter was shot down and all hands were lost. Gone but never forgotten.
SOC Chris Campbell, USN
'Long Live the Brotherhood'
Thursday, August 25, 2011
We did nothing wrong
Some of us came here on purpose, some of us were born here, some of us couldn't afford to go anywhere else. We all ended up right here just because we did. We all have a few choices in life. People with a lot of money seem to have more choices than us poor folks, but, we could have moved on somewhere.
But we didn't. We all tried to make a home here in Jacksonville. We work, at our jobs, at side jobs to make extra money, on our houses, on our yards. We have tried to make the best of what we have, whether it is a lot or a little.
Then, a hurricane comes along. There is nothing you can do to stop it. There is no way to escape it. The rich people have corrupted the laws to make sufficient insurance on our property impossible for us to afford. So we suffer.
We worry all year, each year. We know the hurricane that ruins our life could come at any time. The news reminds us of the official beginning of hurricane season each year, and a little part of us dies each year when they announce it. You work in the heat all summer, knowing that at any time, for no apparent reason, a hurricane can come take away everything you have worked for your entire life.
I wonder why that is. I wonder why their are hurricanes? To test our will, to punish us for some deed. No, they are random acts of violence. Created by the mere existence of the earth. But they are evil. They can break a man's spirit. You can act brave and act like it is no big deal. "I'll just rebuild". Bull shit.
The real truth is when you see a man taking pictures of his life. Not for insurance purposes, but just so he will have them to remember what life was before a cruel act of nature took it all away forever. Why? We didn't do anything wrong.
But we didn't. We all tried to make a home here in Jacksonville. We work, at our jobs, at side jobs to make extra money, on our houses, on our yards. We have tried to make the best of what we have, whether it is a lot or a little.
Then, a hurricane comes along. There is nothing you can do to stop it. There is no way to escape it. The rich people have corrupted the laws to make sufficient insurance on our property impossible for us to afford. So we suffer.
We worry all year, each year. We know the hurricane that ruins our life could come at any time. The news reminds us of the official beginning of hurricane season each year, and a little part of us dies each year when they announce it. You work in the heat all summer, knowing that at any time, for no apparent reason, a hurricane can come take away everything you have worked for your entire life.
I wonder why that is. I wonder why their are hurricanes? To test our will, to punish us for some deed. No, they are random acts of violence. Created by the mere existence of the earth. But they are evil. They can break a man's spirit. You can act brave and act like it is no big deal. "I'll just rebuild". Bull shit.
The real truth is when you see a man taking pictures of his life. Not for insurance purposes, but just so he will have them to remember what life was before a cruel act of nature took it all away forever. Why? We didn't do anything wrong.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Heroes
SO1 Chris Campbell died in Afghanistan 8/6/11, along with 29 other men.
I don't know all the rest of their names off the top of my head, but I have read them and studied their pictures.
I hope that their lives were not given in vain.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Uncle Bill
My only Uncle on my mother's side was William Tully. He joined the Air Force after college to become a pilot. Actually he eventually wanted to try to get into the Astronaut program. So to enhance his career, he volunteered for the 1st Air Commando Wing, heading for Viet Nam in the fall of 1961.
He flew as navigator on a B-26. They flew actual combat missions when supposedly we were just in an "advisory" status over there.
Each aircrew was to fly100 missions before rotating back to the States. A good friend of my Uncle Bill was shot down with a few missions left before rotating. Due to only having a handful of aircrew over there, my Uncle volunteered to fly out the remaining missions after he had already completed his 100. 5 November 1962, on his 109th mission, their plane was shot down near Ca Mau and Uncle Bill and the entire crew were killed.
I was pretty young and never got to spend too much time around my Uncle Bill, but I was really drawn to his military life. He showed me around one of the planes he flew in. Let me wear his combat gear, gave me an ammo can to keep my treasures in. He will always be my hero.
He flew as navigator on a B-26. They flew actual combat missions when supposedly we were just in an "advisory" status over there.
Each aircrew was to fly100 missions before rotating back to the States. A good friend of my Uncle Bill was shot down with a few missions left before rotating. Due to only having a handful of aircrew over there, my Uncle volunteered to fly out the remaining missions after he had already completed his 100. 5 November 1962, on his 109th mission, their plane was shot down near Ca Mau and Uncle Bill and the entire crew were killed.
I was pretty young and never got to spend too much time around my Uncle Bill, but I was really drawn to his military life. He showed me around one of the planes he flew in. Let me wear his combat gear, gave me an ammo can to keep my treasures in. He will always be my hero.
The Gypsy and the Pocket Knife
About a million years ago I accompanied my Grandad to the big county fair at Harrodsburg, KY. They had all the usual rides and games and 4H and FFA competitions. Grandad loved to go because they had a horse show and a big dog show for foxhounds.
One day during the fair, Grandad was heading out to the stable area with some friends to look at a horse. He asked me if I wanted to go, or just wander around the rides and games. I opted for the latter. He gave me a pocketful of change and told me to meet him at the dog show when it started. I looked over all the games to see which one had the best prizes. I found one that you operated a little derrick and clamshell inside a plexiglass box. You tried to pick up a toy and drop it down a slot. If you succeeded, you won the little toy.
Well, I saw a pocketknife in amongst the toys. So I tried the game over and over. I was a smart kid, but try as I might I couldn't get the little knife to drop straight. The clamshell seemed to always jerk at the last minute and the pocketknife would bounce clear of the slot. I used up all the nickles Grandad had given me and walked away pretty sad.
Met up with Grandad at the dog show and he immediately knew something was wrong. I explained to him what had happened and that I suspected the whole game was rigged so you couldn't win. He didn't say much, just told me to take him over to the game tent. When we got there he gave me another coin and told me to try again. Same results. Almost. Grandad was in his seventies but still a good man. He politely asked the Gypsy running the game to walk over to where we were standing. When the ne'er-do-well finally came down there, Grandad got a hold of him and spoke softly into his ear. The Gypsy reached right down into the plexiglass box and pulled the little knife out and handed in to me.
Little Kevin has that knife now. It's probably 50 years old by now.
We still don't know exactly what Grandad said to the Gypsy, but apparently he got his attention.
One day during the fair, Grandad was heading out to the stable area with some friends to look at a horse. He asked me if I wanted to go, or just wander around the rides and games. I opted for the latter. He gave me a pocketful of change and told me to meet him at the dog show when it started. I looked over all the games to see which one had the best prizes. I found one that you operated a little derrick and clamshell inside a plexiglass box. You tried to pick up a toy and drop it down a slot. If you succeeded, you won the little toy.
Well, I saw a pocketknife in amongst the toys. So I tried the game over and over. I was a smart kid, but try as I might I couldn't get the little knife to drop straight. The clamshell seemed to always jerk at the last minute and the pocketknife would bounce clear of the slot. I used up all the nickles Grandad had given me and walked away pretty sad.
Met up with Grandad at the dog show and he immediately knew something was wrong. I explained to him what had happened and that I suspected the whole game was rigged so you couldn't win. He didn't say much, just told me to take him over to the game tent. When we got there he gave me another coin and told me to try again. Same results. Almost. Grandad was in his seventies but still a good man. He politely asked the Gypsy running the game to walk over to where we were standing. When the ne'er-do-well finally came down there, Grandad got a hold of him and spoke softly into his ear. The Gypsy reached right down into the plexiglass box and pulled the little knife out and handed in to me.
Little Kevin has that knife now. It's probably 50 years old by now.
We still don't know exactly what Grandad said to the Gypsy, but apparently he got his attention.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Parenthood
I didn't know how to be a parent. Nobody touched me with a magic wand and taught me how to be a good Father. As a matter of fact, I don't ever recall anybody telling I was a good Father. Hell, I guess maybe I was a really bad Father. But one thing I know for sure; I didn't raise any weak children. My daughter is tougher than most NFL linebackers, and most of the civilized world probably considers my sons to be downright dangerous.
As a parent, you handle the day-to-day education of your children using little bits of knowledge you have stored away in your brain. If a mean dog comes close to you, you kick it as hard as you possible can. You try to kill it. That is just instinctive. Well, at least for me that is instinctive. So I passed that life lesson on to my kids. Maybe at the time I thought I was teaching them not to ever take a chance with something that could possibly harm them. The lesson they learned was "if someone or something threatens your family - kill it".
OK, they learned. Did I possibly display too much anger, too much hatred, too much violence? Maybe so. But the Brannen children learned, and they learned well.
Just yesterday, I was visiting with one of my sons and his family. His wife came in from town and brought him a Philly cheese steak sandwich. He was very appreciative and immediately opened up the wrapper and started eating the sandwich. I could see the sandwich had no cheese on it. A high dollar sandwich from a high dollar restaurant and they had left the cheese off a cheese steak sandwich. He handled the situation a little differently than I would have. He simply added some cheese.
I commented that I wasn't all that surprised that he had been screwed, told him that I don't eat restaurant food because I got tired of the order always being wrong. He laughed and told me he knew very well that I was highly intolerant. So I asked him what he was talking about.
He told us that as a child growing up he understood that money was tight. I was an enlisted man in the Marine Corps and my wife didn't work. So we ate at home. Kevin said that he remembered a few occasions when I had taken him and his brother hunting or shooting and had a little extra money and stopped to get fast food. A real treat for young boys who never got out. But alas, he never got to eat any of the food. Invariably the order was wrong, and I got mad about some halfwit screwing things up, when it was very difficult for me to treat my sons to a hamburger, and I got UPSET.
He said he could still picture me bouncing sausage biscuits off the MacDonald's manager's forehead because I didn't get the egg and cheese that I had paid for. Said he could remember he and his brother straining to get in position to watch through the "drive thru window" as I disassembled a sandwich that I had not ordered and stuffed it down the shirt front of the manager of a Hardies. He went on to say that the only four times I ever had the money to be able to stop and get my sons something to eat the order was wrong and I made them do without their meal because I went back inside and "fed" it to some employee who had failed to listen.
Wow. I remembered some of those events, but he remembered them vividly.
Was he upset because I had been a bad Father? Not at all. He was extremely proud of me for sticking up for the "American public" and showing people that we wouldn't accept anything less than what we paid for. Now he lives his life by that creed. He is a hard man to deal with. He demands that people work as hard as he does. Boy, that really makes it tough on the slackers in our society.
So, I guess I was a good Father after all. My son just wishes I would have gone to the next restaurant we came to and gotten him a hamburger.
As a parent, you handle the day-to-day education of your children using little bits of knowledge you have stored away in your brain. If a mean dog comes close to you, you kick it as hard as you possible can. You try to kill it. That is just instinctive. Well, at least for me that is instinctive. So I passed that life lesson on to my kids. Maybe at the time I thought I was teaching them not to ever take a chance with something that could possibly harm them. The lesson they learned was "if someone or something threatens your family - kill it".
OK, they learned. Did I possibly display too much anger, too much hatred, too much violence? Maybe so. But the Brannen children learned, and they learned well.
Just yesterday, I was visiting with one of my sons and his family. His wife came in from town and brought him a Philly cheese steak sandwich. He was very appreciative and immediately opened up the wrapper and started eating the sandwich. I could see the sandwich had no cheese on it. A high dollar sandwich from a high dollar restaurant and they had left the cheese off a cheese steak sandwich. He handled the situation a little differently than I would have. He simply added some cheese.
I commented that I wasn't all that surprised that he had been screwed, told him that I don't eat restaurant food because I got tired of the order always being wrong. He laughed and told me he knew very well that I was highly intolerant. So I asked him what he was talking about.
He told us that as a child growing up he understood that money was tight. I was an enlisted man in the Marine Corps and my wife didn't work. So we ate at home. Kevin said that he remembered a few occasions when I had taken him and his brother hunting or shooting and had a little extra money and stopped to get fast food. A real treat for young boys who never got out. But alas, he never got to eat any of the food. Invariably the order was wrong, and I got mad about some halfwit screwing things up, when it was very difficult for me to treat my sons to a hamburger, and I got UPSET.
He said he could still picture me bouncing sausage biscuits off the MacDonald's manager's forehead because I didn't get the egg and cheese that I had paid for. Said he could remember he and his brother straining to get in position to watch through the "drive thru window" as I disassembled a sandwich that I had not ordered and stuffed it down the shirt front of the manager of a Hardies. He went on to say that the only four times I ever had the money to be able to stop and get my sons something to eat the order was wrong and I made them do without their meal because I went back inside and "fed" it to some employee who had failed to listen.
Wow. I remembered some of those events, but he remembered them vividly.
Was he upset because I had been a bad Father? Not at all. He was extremely proud of me for sticking up for the "American public" and showing people that we wouldn't accept anything less than what we paid for. Now he lives his life by that creed. He is a hard man to deal with. He demands that people work as hard as he does. Boy, that really makes it tough on the slackers in our society.
So, I guess I was a good Father after all. My son just wishes I would have gone to the next restaurant we came to and gotten him a hamburger.
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