Time and money

They say "You either have enough time or enough money" and "time is money."

I wonder how much it would cost to have a few more seconds with my Papa?
He left before I could say goodbye.  

Time is a most precious gift, spend it wisely.

Money is a tool, wield it prudently.

Things are temporary.  Focus on relationships. 

Nice words.  I should try to live them.

Is it possible that everyday gets better and better? 

I continue to be amazed at the blessings. 

Thank God! 

We should have a national holiday to celebrate...

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

(This is rather than a really long post about all the things I can thank about)

Whiny rambling unedited drivel

I am excited to enter a new phase of life.

After thirty one years as a professional Airman I need time to reflect.

I look forward to experiencing a closer walk.

There are multiple reasons for stepping back from flying.  The mundane mid-life crisis issues, the birth of my first grandchild and other less concrete rationalizations. 

I am in constant pain.  The residual effects of 20 years as a paratrooper, cancer and the treatment protocol have damaged my body.  It takes me about two hours of intense physical therapy to prepare for work.   Any head movement causes shooting pain throughout my nervous system.  It takes all my concentration to retain situational awareness and force myself to scan for traffic. I am sure the seated position is not healthy for me.  Getting in and out of the aircraft is not pleasant.  Peripheral neuropathy is a constant reminder of the chemotherapy.  My hands and feet feel like they are on fire most of the time.  This makes fine motor skills more challenging. 

I am constantly impressed by people who fly with glasses. I find it distracting and I only need reading glasses. 

 “Getting old ain’t fer sissies.”
I was upside down in the Super Decathlon and attempting to read the oil temperature and pressure gauges I realized I could not see without my glasses.  I glanced down to retrieve them and thought "That is not a good plan."  When I looked back up the straps from the parachute harness had fallen down in front of my face obscuring my view of the horizon.  Here I was spatially disoriented in an unusual attitude of my own making.  Thank God for allowing me to survive my bad decisions once again!  Training probably helped; thanks Bill, Catherine, Greg, Bob and Eric.

Chronic pain relief can be provided by alcohol. Alcohol is an FAA approved drug. The legal limit is 0.04 and you must stop drinking no later than 8 hours prior; the flying club utilizes a 12 hour “bottle to throttle rule.” That is the same rule we applied in the United States Air Force and seems to be a reasonable method for normal operations.  Aerobatics requires a longer period for me to perform. 
I am a junkie. Not an alcoholic, or opioid addict, I am an adrenaline junkie, and tobacco slave.
Utilizing alcohol to make me pass out and become nonfunctional for a period of time is a method to be able to work but, is a non -sustainable lifestyle
Utilizing tobacco for stress relief is also not good for my long term survival.
I was able to experience some pain relief from a non traditional method, namely acupuncture. It took a congressional and senatorial inquiry and 8 months to get a prescription for acupuncture refilled.
None of the FAA approved drugs cut the pain to any recognizable amount.
The doctor often asks “What is your pain number today? Utilizing a scale of one to ten where one is no pain and ten is the worst pain you can imagine.”
I respond: “How about this? Ten is the worst pain I can remember. Because the worst pain I can imagine is spiritual or psychological. Ten just makes you pass out. Nine makes you defecate and regurgitate at the same time. Nine sucks. Eight makes you ball up in the fetal position and cry like a little girl. Seven brings you to your knees and makes you pray.  6.79 and that is my final answer.”

I wish I was a cowboy. I've been around professional tough guys much of my life and cowboys are the toughest.
I was helping my buddy Tino with his chores.  He was a big kid and had to do something with the horses.  One of them was resisting his efforts and raring up and trying to hit him with its hooves. Tino's dad hopped the coral which was about shoulder height, and grabbed the horse by the lip and told it to mind his son. I have always tried to cowboy up.
They removed a portion of my throat and part of my neck during the cancer treatment.  Sometimes it is hard to swallow and can make it hard to breathe.  Whether it is true or not sometimes I feel like I am choking to death.  A sip of water relieves the symptoms. I utilize a hydration backpack to keep water close.  My training as a military diver allows me to remain calm during times of oxygen deprivation.  This can be very distracting.
My resilience is limited.  With about two hours of preparation I can operate at a fairly high level but I do not have much endurance and my recovery period can be lengthy.  I need a fourteen hour nap after a hard flight.  I discovered some of these limitations while training for my ATP.  I informed my instructor that “I can not perform well early in the morning.”  Due to limited availability we were conducting training at 8 AM.  While inspecting the landing gear assembly my neck/body began cramping and I had to rest under the aircraft for a few moments.  “Are you OK?” said the instructor with more than a little concern in his voice.
I do not think this is the performance the airlines are expecting.  “Why is our departure delayed?”  “Oh the first officer is taking a nap under the nose gear.”
I have significant hearing loss and I wish to minimize any additional damage so I can hear my grandchild coo.

At some point you have to assess your level of skill.  I applied for pilot training while in the service.  During one round of selection there were 63 applicants, three were selected.  I did not make the cut.  I got a ride in an F-16 before I was a pilot.  I have seen incredibly talented pilots who started young.  I am but an adequate pilot.

My recovery is a miracle; I returned to flight and taught in a tail wheel airplane. I was able to pass my ATP checkride and even compete acrobatically. My good friends helped me acquire a beautiful machine. They allowed me to fulfill my dreams. They released me from my obligations when the operational costs became too high.  I have had a tremendous time teaching and learning.  I was able to provide for my family and provide two children the college experience.  

My editor suggested I add a paragraph about my amazing students.  That will take several volumes to capture.  I continue to live the most amazing experience.  It is been my pleasure to serve people achieving their dreams. Sometimes it has been painful to help others realize their limitations. One of my first Masters let me know he expected that I exceed his abilities. God blessed me with incredible students, mentors, and peers.  The view from the giant’s shoulders was grand!  The next generation will continue to thrash the limits. 
My first flight student was a paratrooper and after completing his private flies helicopters for the Army since 2006.  Some are flying for the airlines, a few have interned at NASA, some are flight instructors and several are enthusiastic hobbyists. 
 I have had an incredibly rich experience. It doesn't matter how many hours are in your logbook, 25 grand night equipment jumps, Draeger LAR 5 dives, or any other past accomplishment the next 15 seconds are essential to our survival. Certificates, ratings, rank, position, ethnic background, sexual orientation, religious preference, political affiliation, or net worth have no impact on physics.  Learning how to compartmentalize emotions is important. 
The life of an airman has associated hazards. I have had incredible luck. One of my great blessings was the people that I got to know. The carnage associated with the life of a professional daredevil has some emotional effects.  None of my flight students have died in an aircraft accident yet.  Knock on wood.  One came close because he did not recognize that his limited time-in-type was a hazard that needed mitigation. The guy who gave me my first checkride died in an airplane accident, as did my buddy’s wife, my ground school teaching partner and several others in civilian aviation.  My military experience was harsher. 
I used to tie a knot in the string on the back of my beret for each of my fallen brothers.
It would piss the Army First Sergeants off.  “You can’t have a string hanging on the back of your beret.  It is against Army Regulation XX-XX.”
“I ain’t in the Army.”  Good fun!  I knew it would make my fallen brother laugh especially if I got hammered for it.
I did not include personnel that I had peripheral association with such as the aircrew that died with my close friends.  I did not include losses from joint/combined forces.  The numbers would get stupid, the string is not long enough, and that is too much emotional baggage for one person. I quit at twenty-one.  It just seemed gruesome.  Not much fun anymore.
It took almost ten years to fly my flag again.  I have been able to acknowledge and process the deaths.  The day before I left for my ATP training I was thanking God I knew the three young men who died in a plane crash and I heard news of a fatality at a near-by airport.  I did not research further until my return.  As I suspected the NTSB report will include another friend.
I have a BS in psychology which is an appropriate two letter explanation.

  The psychologist asked me "Do you have suicidal tendencies?"

"Yes, they are one of my favorite bands.  What is your favorite song?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoF_a0-7xVQ  Institutionalized or

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nxcJW6bs5os can't bring me down?

I am stoked to be alive!  Living a peaceful life filled with joy is a sustainable program.

I have been conscious to apply risk-management to most of my activities.  When I got married I quit dropping into half-pipes on my skateboard because I did not want to risk injury that would prevent me from remaining on jump status.  Marriage is expensive! 

When my children arrived I quit riding my motorcycle like a mad-man, although I still managed to get one stuck fifty feet in a tree.

I know my Mom was happy when I retired from the service.  She was not excited to find out I wanted to flight instruct, acrobatically. 

My wife asked me “Do you always have to do the MOST dangerous things possible?”   

I guess not. I love her.

I knew she was Mrs. Right when I married her. I just did not know her first name was "Always."  

She is smarter than me and has my best interest at heart I should listen to her.

"Don't pet a burning cat" "Don't throw aerosol cans in the fire."  and other words of advice.  

I hope it was not too whiny.  

Transition

I hate rambling, whiny emails.  The key to being an effective writer is to have brutal editors who understand the King's English.  Here is the final email product I put out to the general public:

Life happens.  After thirty one years it is time to reflect.  It may be a vacation, a sabbatical or retirement. I look forward to a closer walk.
There are multiple reasons for stepping back from flying.  The mundane mid-life crisis issues, the birth of my first grandchild and other less concrete excuses.
My recovery is a miracle; I returned to flight and taught in a tail wheel airplane. I was able to pass my ATP checkride and even compete acrobatically. My good friends helped me acquire a beautiful machine, allowed me to fulfill my dreams and then released me from my obligations when operational costs became too high.  I have had a tremendous time teaching and learning. 
My editor suggested I add a paragraph about my amazing students.  That will take several volumes to capture.  I continue to live the most amazing experience.  It has been my pleasure to serve people achieving their dreams. Sometimes it has been painful to help others realize their limitations. One of my first Masters let me know he expected that I exceed his abilities. God blessed me with incredible students, mentors, and peers.  The view from the giant's shoulders was grand!  The next generation will continue to thrash the limits.
It would not have been possible without the support of my beautiful wife.  Feel free to thank her for loaning me to the cause all these years.Thank you for the opportunity.  Have fun, be safe.  Be good stewards of aviation.   See you around campus.
Sincerely,
Ronney Moss





For whiny rambling unedited drivel read this blog.  

Mid-airs

Visual flight rules require pilots to "see and avoid" other air traffic. 

My good friend and I learned to fly at the Kadena Aero Club in Okinawa, Japan.  We split time in a Cessna 152 building cross country hood time.  We pursued and completed our ground instructor and commercial certificates.  We taught ground school together. 

Eight years later we retired after full and rewarding military careers and became flight instructors.  He was in Ohio and I in North Carolina.  We ribbed each other over the "first in flight/birthplace of aviation" rivalry.  We ribbed each other with full respect over our chosen branch of service.  It seemed that retired life was going well.

October 14, 2005 Alan was teaching a student how to hold over an NBD when he was hit from behind.  The other aircraft was on a recreational flight.  Good weather, VFR in effect.  Four humans died because the pilot did not see and avoid.   The survivors of the other aircraft hired lawyers to insult the grieving process. 

They tried to sue everyone.  The one issue that made it to court was the avionics manufacture provided a product that worked so well that the pilots we lulled into inattention.  That suit failed.

The issue of looking out the window to avoid injuring each other has migrated to the rest of society.  Texting and driving while listening to the radio and the GPS is incredibly common these days.  The same thought process of "everyone else's fault but mine" is alive and well. 

I am glad I got to know Allen.  I miss him.  He loved his wife and kids.    Be careful out there.

Louisiana Man

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0i9zLJnU3w


I was born in Baton Rouge.

Both my papa and my daddy worked and payed taxes.

They were productive members of society.

They provided for their families the best way they knew how.

They tried to be responsible citizens as best they understood.

Poor bastards. Have you ever been hungry?

Have you ever fished for breakfast? No fish, no breakfast.

Doodle bugs taste like salt lick.

The saying "it's better than nothing" applies.




And by daddy I mean the fella who paid my child support.

My papa was the man who loved my mom and took care of us.

The work ethic is ingrained in us from an early age.  You take care of your own either directly or indirectly.
Feeding your family is your job.  
We tend to eat anything that moves, or sits still.  I seem to recall it was more because we had a big appetite built up in anticipation of a big fish than because we liked to eat possum or armadillo.

For some rural kids seeing people outside your immediate family is rare.  Going to town is a celebration because it is an unusual event.  Directions to our house included the phrases "and then the highway ends, and then the black top ends, and after the dirt road ends."  

People say we talk funny and dress strange.

People are probably right. 

Chapter one

I am a product of your society. 
Let's start the beginning.
I was born. Of this I'm sure.
 I have documents proving it. I was born December 18, 1964.
The Wright brothers first flew December 17th 1903.
  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wright_brothers
I think I was born an Airman.
My grandmother use to take me to the airport in Shreveport, Louisiana so I could watch the airplanes take off and land. http://flyshreveport.com/
She had a Volkswagen beetle and would splash the mud puddles on the way. As far as I can remember I have been telling people " look airplane! "
Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I have said I wouldn't mind getting Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The first word is post. That means the trauma is over.  The disorder is that it makes the person non-functional.

Now this second part is hear-say that is to say although I witnessed it I do not have confirmation or evidence.
My mother was heavily drugged during my birth. I was removed from her womb with forceps.  The medical device left marks on my head that looks like horns.
Or I was born with horns.
I think my dad joined the Coast Guard and moved to Alaska.

I wanted to join the coast guard but I was too short.
You have to be 6 feet tall to join the Coast Guard.
That way can walk to shore if the boat sinks .  Ha,ha.
That's my Coast Guard joke.
Those guys are awesome. http://www.uscg.mil/
Most people are mad at them because they tell them to put a life jacket on.

JD taught me about life preservers. He threw me out of a boat. Way out in shark infested waters.  Then he told  me to swim to shore.
He helped keep the sharks at bay buy driving the boat around me at high speeds. The wake made it challenging for me to swim.
He would occasionally ask me if he had advised me to wear my flotation device while aboard his vessel.

He did.  I did not wear my flotation device.  That was stupid.  JD did not have time for stupid airmen.  If I drowned he would have to fill out paper work.  He hated paperwork.  I wear my flotation device.  He loved me.  I think he still does. 

God loves us

            I am sure God loves us.  He gave me working taste buds AND ice cream.  He gave me my wife and the ability to experience and practice LOVE. 

Fatherhood

            I am eternally grateful that I am a father.  I am very lucky to have a father and a pop.  My parents divorced early and I saw my father sporadically as I grew up.  He is a good man and always worked hard to provide financial support as I grew up.  I know I hurt his feeling tremendously when I changed my last name to Moss.  

Hank Moss raised me.  He loved me unconditionally even when I was an idiot and did not deserve love.  I lived with my grandparents until I was seven.  Soon after moving in with Hank and mom I was trying to be a good kid and washed the car.  I made sure I got all the bird poop off.  I used a brillo pad and took the paint off all the way down to the metal!  Hank did not lose his cool with me.  He really loved my mom.  He raised me with as much patience as anyone could expect from a human.  

When I was in the Air Force and getting my passport renewed they said that I could be in trouble for fraudulent enlistment since my birth certificate did not say Moss.  All of my school records, marriage certificate and other documents were Moss.  That is who I thought I was so I changed my name legally to match.  I wish my father would forgive me but I understand. 

Fatherhood is a different deal than being a daddy.  Fatherhood is responsibility.  Daddy is love.  Fatherhood is a duty.  Being a daddy is fun!  A “good” father is both.  My children are a product of the love I have for my wife. And she is my favorite human.  Thank God that I have been blessed with two wonderful men that loved me so much.  Please Lord let me be a good father to my children and a good husband to my wife.  I have friends who are orphans and did not know what it is like to have a family.

Happy Fathers Day. 

Aviatrixes

According to Women in Aviation International only six percent of pilots are women.  Many of my heroines are pilots. 
My first aerobatic instructor. http://www.aceaerobaticschool.com/

One of the most inspirational people I know is Jessica.
http://ableflight.org/meet-the-scholarship-winners

A good friend and wife of one of my PJ brothers
http://sugarvalleyairport.org/KH_Scholarship_Application_Announcement_letter_March_2015.pdf

A mentor and local DPE
http://www.news-journalonline.com/article/20110419/ARTICLES/304199980

Another mentor and master instructor
http://flighttraining.aopa.org/magazine/2008/September/200809_Features_Same_Dance,_Different_Partner.html


It sucks to lose one. They are precious
http://gadfly01.blogspot.com/2015/06/barbara-harris-para-rip.html?m=1

Please forgive me for not mentioning all of y'all. 

Bad joke:
What do you call a woman pilot?
A pilot, you sexist. 

This is a multipurpose joke; insert race, gender, sexual orientation, nationality, religion or other in place of woman and the type of discrimination in place of sexist. 

Barbara would have laughed.



 

When the janitor met the maid

One day a long time ago there was a janitor.  He worked hard and kept his nose clean for this was one of the few jobs he could get.
One spring morning he noticed the maid. She was beautiful! He would watch her arrive at work and he would watch her as she would leave.  Throughout the day he would catch glimpses of her but he was too scared to talk to her.  This went on for a long time.

One Monday they bumped into each other.
He said "Excuse me miss, pardon me miss."  as he stumbled over his feet which seemed to be in his mouth. She giggled and said it's OK. 
He said I notice you use Pine-sol rather than Lysol. She responded that she liked Pine-sol's scent but Lysol makes a great antibacterial spray that does not leave much of an odor. 
 He thought that this is the perfect woman for me and they spoke for hours on the benefits of various materials and methods, comparing notes.  Yeah, they kept notes.  Over the next few months and years they learned more about each other and a lot about cleaning.
One day...

Happy Mothers Day

When I was born I had visible horns.  I imagine that the doctor tried to reassure the gathered relatives that it was a “normal” birth.  I imagine my father loved me and said “This is too heavy for me.” joined the Coast Guard and requested Alaska.  He and my mother were divorced a few months later.  He paid child support until I turned eighteen.  I am every grateful for my father’s support.  He is my Daddy. 

My grandparents raised me while my mother was trapping another male to help care for me.  The man who stood up and married a woman with a wild child was wild himself.  He and my mother stuck with me through all the rough times.  I went to fourteen different schools before I graduated high school.

I was first arrested at age seven.  We were shooting flaming tennis balls from a rooftop at passing cars.  At seven it is not likely that I was the mastermind merely part of the gang.  We loved to run from the cops.  It was just like the movies.  We would leap from building to building and the “pigs” would not continue pursuit.  They just watched us and noted our path.  We used the same roof and escape path more than once and the police were waiting. 

My pop was mad at me.  He told me to “plan better” and pay attention.  My mother loved me.  That was San Jose, California.  I failed third grade.

We moved far from there to Desoto Parish in the swamp far from people and my mom and pop build a log cabin while home schooling me.  We were living in the back of a yellow Dodge Charger.  We would look up at the stars at night and bath in the rain. 

When I went back to pubic school we moved into the bustling metropolis of Gloster, Louisiana.  I thrived there.  I set the house and myself on fire many times. 

We burned our trash in 55 gallon barrels and when it was full we went to the dump.  I was dutifully burning the trash and experimenting with aerosol cans.  They were great fun!  I through some in and boom!  Being young and foolish I tossed some in and thought I had a dud.  I peaked over the edge and was met with a ball of flaming gas but that is a story for another day. 

My mother said “Never apologize for who you are.”  My wife said “Never be ashamed where you come from.”  My daughter said she was proud of me. 

I LOVE YOU MOM.  Thank you for sticking with me.  I am sorry for all the grief I have every caused you.  Thank God you are my mom.  Not all my friends have parents.

Not only am I blessed with an awesome mother I get to be married to an incredible woman that is an inspirational mom.  She inspires me to perform. 

My daughter’s marriage

            I am so proud of my daughter.  She is getting married…in a church.  This is the first church marriage in the Moss clan for a few generations.  Legend has that since we were excommunicated no one has been socially acceptable enough to pull it off.

            My lovely bride was nearly seven month pregnant when we were wed.  I was released early from work and my supervisor was my witness.  The witness is important because when people say “I don’t believe such a lovely woman would marry you.” You can then say “I have witnesses.”  Thank you Charlie

            We were married at the court house just outside of Clark AB, Republic of the Philippines.  I was in jungle fatigues and my wife in maternity biker attire.  I thought we were in trouble when the judge started shouting at my bride.  Judge Lansing knew my father in law who was a cop in Manila.  We had to get notarized permission to wed from our parents because we were too young.  After the interrogation and checking of paper we were wed. 

            Thank God for my wife.  She has been a blessing everyday.  I would probably be in prison or dead if not for her.  We have been blessed with two lovely children that inspired me to try to become a responsible human.  Our marriage has been nothing short of a miracle.

The father of CCT

            I was honored to attend the memorial for the father of CCT.

Chief Master Sergeant Alcide “Bull” Sylvio Benni 15 Oct 1921-16 Apr 2015.  He arrived at Ellis Island in 1930 and joined the Army ten years later.  He was captured by the Japanese 7 Apr 1942 in the Philippines.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hc2m7Av3L5U

            After internment as a POW he was repatriated, joined the 82^nd Airborne attended Pathfinder school and worked hard to make sure American forces would not again surrender.  He transferred the USAF and founded the unit that would become Combat Control and later Special Tactics. 

            He lived a full life after the military, he played saxophone and cooked up Italian cuisine with fixings from his garden.  I met his granddaughter, his brother, his daughter and her husband.  The Chaplin played and sang hymnals including ‘Amazing Grace’, ‘How Great Thou Art’, and ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’.  They invited people to speak and I said a few words.

            “The Battling Bastards of Bataan, no mama, no papa no Uncle Sam; I did not know the Chief personally.  He founded a unit that gathers all the bastards, orphans and mutants and organizes them to defend this nation.  My wife is from the Philippines.  The impact of one man ripples throughout the world.  We stand on the shoulders of giants.”

            It was evident that he feared God and loved his country.  After the family left I went back and knocked out memorial push ups.  The best leaders inspire one to try your hardest.  We will defend our kin to the death.  My brother from another mother still stands at the gates of hell keeping this country safe.  Many have fallen, more will rise.

I have lived the easy life.  Uncle Sam did not abandon me.  The Chief formed a team that grew.  I used to tie a knot in the string at the back of my beret for my fallen brothers to remind me of them.  It was an added bonus that it pissed the first sergeants in division off.  I quit tying knots at number twenty one. 

The experience as POW slave labor in the mines eclipses any hardship I can fathom.  I thank God that he lived.  At one time I wondered why my team leader was such a hard ass; later I understood that it was because he loved me. 

MLK day

            Many people can quote the start of his most famous speech “I have a dream…” but few people can tell you what his dream was.

            Last month on MLK day I flew with one of my good friends to Carthage, NC where we ate at the Pic N’ Pig.  He read one of the plaques which told of the story of  James McConnel who died in battle during World War one.  JP read it in French since that is where he was born. 

            The second plaque is written in Chinese and tells of Robert Upchurch who served and died as one of the Flying Tigers.  My second student of the day is from China.  I look forward to the day when I can call him my friend. 

            The ideas expressed in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence ring as true today as the day they were written.  The blood of people paying for the fruition of those dreams has been spilled in many battles.  French blood supporting the rebellious colonies, Chinese blood against an invading force and American blood mixed in with both.  Our civil war was the bloodiest.  I long for peace and weep for my fallen comrades and thank God that I live in a country that states upfront “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”  The color of your skin does not matter; blood is red, what matters is how you live. 

            Live the dream.  Dream big. 

Advice

            Smokers gotta smoke, dogs gotta poop, old men gotta pee.  Police your butts, watch your step, don’t eat the yeller snow.

Redneck paradise

The first step in building a redneck paradise is to post the colors.

I love living in a swamp in Harnett County.

I get to watch aluminum cans of whoop ass bring black-hearted devils in baggy pants to Sicily, Normandy and Salerno drop zones. 

The perfect hot chocolate

When I was in the depths of cancer treatment everything tasted like cardboard and kerosene.  By the grace of God I live and breath additional blessings are the wonderful senses that we have one of which is taste.  After a hard cold day on the range a sweet cup of hot chocolate is amazing.  In my quest to live life to the fullest I have been experimenting with different formulas.  Store bought coco is good, there are many kinds.  In an effort to avoid a diabetic coma we sampled diet and sugar free products.  My tastes are eclectic and somewhat strange.  My current masterpiece contains coffee, cinnamon, coco power, vanilla and a touch of vanilla soothed with milk and honey.  I like it a lot!  My lovely daughter said it tasted like the Guinness of hot chocolate.  She did not mean it as a complement. 

            The addition of marshmallows is the topping that makes the drink.  I am not sure if the liquid is but the pallet upon which the marshmallows dance and play but they make even the most basic coco taste GOOD.  The Irish in me wants to add Bailey’s and or something stronger. 

            Have fun with your taste buds.  My favorite drink still is a tall cool glass of water.

Good advice

Drink more water
Be quiet
pray
listen
sing, dance and laugh while you do your chores


Now if I can just do that

Daddy what would you do

  While on the lake fishing my children asked me "Daddy what would you do if the boat capsized and we were all drowning?"
  
  "I'd jump in and save Mom, swim her to shore, run a hot shower for her, get her a clean dry change of clothes.  Then I would probably make her a hot bowl of New England clam chowder and perhaps a sandwich.  Do you think she might like some cheese and crackers?  What about a hot chocolate?  But, your momma would probably make me save y'all first."

Both my kids know how to swim. 

So does my wife. 

We wear floatation. 

The problem with instructors

            One of my mentors said “The problem with instructors is that after a while we think we have found the one true path and that everyone else is an idiot.”

            I think the truth is that we discover the one true path for us and we are idiots like everyone else. 

            All joking aside after a few years of intense studying a specific subject one begins to have insights.  Those insights can lead to a deep understanding of the subject.  Then, if you are lucky, you meet someone who has a completely different perspective.  It takes discipline to shut up and listen but if you do there is a potential for a “paradigm shift.”  I dislike buzz words but sometimes they capture the idea.  When people accepted that light acted like a particle AND a wave minds were blown and progress occurred.  The “pitch for airspeed and power for altitude” Bernoulli or Newton and other mental models are useful but not comprehensive.  It is difficult not to cement our minds into the theory that we understand and disregard others.

            On the other hand, people who tout their ability to “think outside the box” sometimes are merely undisciplined.  A basic understanding of the current theories and ideas about a subject allows one to have an intelligent conversation based on something other than conjecture.  I do not have a problem with someone who says “I believe __” and does not try to disparage people who believe otherwise.  The people who say “I think” and then merely regurgitate someone else’s opinion can be frustrating.  I used to enjoy agitating people like that, now I generally avoid them.  This is the dilemma, if I think I understand the problem better than them; could be I missing a jewel of an insight by ignoring them or am I being an arrogant fool?

Who stole my ___

One of the sayings we had in the military was “Which one of you lousy son of a #$@s stole my…oh, here it is.” 

            My mama said “Put things back where they belong.” I am still learning that lesson.  I am quick to blame others, even if I don’t say it aloud.  You would think that after thirty or forty years of repeating the same lesson I would figure it out.

            I used to think it was because I was drunk that I could not find my beer when the reality is that I tend to have CRS (Can’t Remember Stuff). 

            On the good side it is really nice to find an item you have been looking for. 

A neat trick

A friend of mine taught me a neat trick.  He taught me how to fly an airplane.  That is a pretty neat trick.

My grandparents taught me to read.  That is a really neat trick.

Uncle Bob

My uncle Bob heavily influenced me.  In his own words he could be described as a “hard working, hard nosed, hard drinking Polack.”  As he matured he quit drinking which helped me recognize that you could still be mannerly and have fun without drinking to excess.  He took a lot of grief over his ethnic background but showed that the best revenge is just to live an incredibly successful life.  He gave me my first real job and I learned a lot.  My minimum wage co-workers and I were compensated fairly for our skill set.  I was inspired to pursue my education and training so I could both make more money and have more fun doing it.  The example of his love towards my aunt was inspirational.  He, like most men, is not as verbal in his expression of affection especially to snot-nosed young punks like me but he always showed it.

Bob Probizanski gave me my first skateboard!  It was a product sample from Century Fiberglass back in the day.  It was merely an orange toy to the adult world.  It opened the world up to me.  I was instantly cool.  I learned balance momentum and persistence through that piece of modern magic.  Urethane wheels and real trucks gave me a platform to explore the urban playground that was Riverside California in the late 1970s.  Some of the scars I earned remain, some do not but the lessons shaped me into the man I would become.

You gotta be tough.  Suck it up sunshine a little road rash is part of the game.  The big words we use now are risk management but to an adolescent “can I pull of this trick, how much will it hurt if I don’t and how many cool points do I get with the chicks” is just a simplified way of calculating danger.  The broken bones are visceral feedback on improper decisions.  The whole realities of how good are you and how much does God love you all over again.  I continue to skateboard but tend to be mellow cat in my approach rather than radical Ronney.

I have so many good memories of skating it is hard to express how much it meant to me.  I won a contest when I was in middle school and became an “honorary” member of the Pepsi skateboard team.  They gave me a t-shirt because I tried a handstand.  As an outsider from Louisiana I was accepted in the middle school hierarchy.  I recall the dark times learning how drugs ruin good people and how skating made me separate the drugs and alcohol intake so I could perform. 

That first board was quickly shredded and I learned the value of good equipment and how to care for my ride.  I was inspired to earn money to get a sturdier board.  The people that loved me showered me with safety equipment and I was soon at a skatepark.  We moved to the country and my skating took back seat to cross country running, school and motorcycling in the desert but I never lost my love of skateboarding.  While in the Air Force I rode in the Philippines, Malaysia, Korea, Japan, Thailand, Guam, Australia, and Indonesia.  I know the “go for it” attitude require to drop into the bowl at Upland gave me the fortitude to leap from airplanes and other seemingly counterintuitive actions that continue to fascinate me.  Balance, momentum management and gravity games have been a central part of my life.  Thank you Uncle Bob.

                                                     Passing on the gift

Christmas in Mexico

            My uncle, my mother, my wife and I spent Christmas in Mexico.  We connected with family members that we did not know existed a few years ago.  I felt at home almost immediately.  We ate, sang, laughed and played late every night.  We rose early and repeated the exercise until exhaustion.  It was wonderful to be so loved so unconditionally so quickly.  We celebrated Christmas with the family in Mexico City and then went down to visit another aunt in Cuernavaca.  A one day excursion to Tepoztlan and then it was time to go. 

            The whole experience was great fun.  One of my favorite parts was the marshmallow battle following the opening of presents.  I am so glad we connected although our hearts ached for Christina and Alexander the entire time.