Change

I turned to my blog and was immediately lost. I have been away for a while and completely forgot about this new blogger interface thing so I just stared dumbly at the screen muttering, "I just want to write something. How do I do that?" I do not like confusion first thing in the morning. I have had enough confusion recently and my confusion meter has pegged out.

I heard the little three-cup coffee maker gurgling mightily so I knew my coffee was ready. You see, it gurgles in a subdued manner until it has completed its assigned duty, then gives a hearty gurgle when it has finished its task. Simple things. Simple cues. I can contend with that.

Sipping my coffee, I mused that everyone is now used to this new Googledy blog interface and there even may be people that have grown to like it. I needed to look at this as an adventure. No. Not at five on this Saturday morning. I sipped more coffee and started clicking around until I finally found a button called 'Post' and here I am. I'm not contending too well with change these days.

I am sitting in a small office with gray walls and gray carpet and yes, white crown molding, in front of my old beat-up brown desk located in the wrong place in the room because it has to be where a telephone cord can reach the Model 7500 Modem which allows me to computerface with the outside world. All of this represents 'change'. I need to remember to get a longer cord today and, oh yeah, a wireless adapter for Marilyn's computer (which I need to move from the old house twenty miles away) so we can stop fighting over this computer. It seems like I need to get something else too -- oh yeah, an edger/trimmer for the yard. Too much to remember.

Change.

Last Tuesday we moved from our previous house to our smaller house. This was step one in our grand plan to downsize as I progress toward retirement. For days we had been eating hamburgers and to-go chicken and on Wednesday I vowed we would actually eat a meal fixed in our new house. Our brains were mushier then than they are now. We had a store-bought pizza in the freezer so I pulled it out, ripped open the package, then stood there stupefied, and hollered, "Where is the pizza pan?" It seems it was somewhere in the 85 boxes stacked nearly ceiling-high in the third bedroom which serves as our temporary storage room. So, I sauntered, while muttering impolite things, to my car and drove to the grocery store and bought a pizza pan. And that is how it has been going. (Did I mention that I forgot to take the cardboard off the bottom of the pizza when I cooked it?)

Change.

I like our new house even though it seems, well...small. Hutch, our Lab, does not like this place. He grew up in our bigger place and it is the only home he has ever known. He is agitated and nervous and moody and refuses to leave my side. You see, I am not the only one struggling with change.

I think that in my last post I addressed the subject of Crown Molding. Because this house is newer it is stranger. Normal houses have rooms with four walls that meet the ceilings in nice clean ninety-degree angles. For some absurd reason the walls and ceilings in this house meet each other too often in angles other than ninety degrees and this serves no discernible purpose other than to cause me to ask "Why?" We had a crew here prior to the move to paint and install carpet in bedrooms. The question was, "How the hell do you put Crown Molding up with those strange angles all over the place?" We were advised that something called a Compound Miter Box would be needed to saw the molding precisely. This sounded pretty confusing to me. On top of that, my ninety-degree brain simply couldn't comprehend molding jutting off in all these strange angles.

So we agreed that we would forgo the Crown Molding. Sometimes agreements between Marilyn and I go like this.

Me: "If we put up Crown Molding it would look stupid."

Marilyn: "Hmm."

Me: "So, lets just drop the whole Crown Molding thing. We have enough confusion already."

Marilyn: "Hmm."

Me: "Good it's settled. No Crown Molding."

Marilyn: "Hmm,"

Me: "Now don't you feel better. One issue solved!"

Marilyn: "Hmm."

So Marilyn had them install the Crown Molding. She happened to mention it to me a couple of days before the move.

Marilyn: "Before you say anything -- if you don't like it we can have them take it down."

Me: "Hmm."

I really messes with my manliness to say that it looks good.

I will include some pictures (assuming I can find the camera and the camera has a memory card in it...and the batteries in the camera still work. Surely I kept the camera in an accessible place....I hope.)

Health Issues

I am a little lumpy. Around the time that we bought the house we discovered an annoying lump on the left side of my neck just under my ear right about where the lymph nodes are. During the time of house-closing and lining up utilities and arguing with TV signal providers and movers I had to visit four separate doctors and have an ultrasound and then a MRI and a dreaded biopsy. So my brain has been switching back and forth between The Move and The Lump. It was concluded that I do not have cancer. But the lump was located near where the facial nerve bundle is,  which requires that I visit with a nerve specialist surgeon. I do that next Monday. Apparently this surgeon has some kind of computer that somehow connects to my facial nerves which will tell him, "Oops. Better not do that. Do this instead."

This leads to surgery scheduling. I have to go to Calgary which is located in Alberta which is located in Canada next month for some training in a course that I helped design. Yeah, that's right. Take a course that I wrote. The vagaries of corporate policy is another subject all its own. Now -- do I have the surgery now and show up at the training with scars that will terrify the instructor and other students, or wait until after? Also if I have surgery now I will be bedridden for a while -- which actually sounds kind of attractive. "Darling, which box are you going to unpack?" "I'm hungry -- could you scramble some eggs for me?" "You want me to do what? Oh, the pain...maybe I will do that tomorrow or next week or something." But then the doc may say that he wants to de-lump me now because he doesn't want it to go.

We'll see how it goes.

The Conclusion to this Post

I was going to write the conclusion of this post last Saturday morning after posting some Crown Molding pictures that was I was going to take with my camera. I couldn't find the camera. It is Monday afternoon and I still can't find the darn camera.

But there have been changes since I composed the stuff above. Instead of going to Calgary next month it seems I am going the last week of this month.

Change.

Saw the premier surgeon and it seems as if he is not premier enough. It seems I now have to go to the King of Surgeons in the Medical Center. It appears the surgery, if I decide to have it and now am beginning to wonder about this, will entail a bit of micro-surgery and lasers and the Best that Medical Science Can Provide. Okay, I just stuck that last part in there. This is now the fifth doctor I will now see. I am tired of doctors and I am tired of using up my vacation time seeing doctors. If I have to go up the surgical totem pole any higher I will end up seeing the Surgeon General of the United States....and I'm not sure he does surgeries.

Change.

Enough blather. Gotta' go fill a prescription. It seems I have a sinus infection.

Later. Have fun and stay away from lumps.

In Defense of Inward Thinking

I feel better today. I guess it is because some critical issues have been addressed. One is the Crown Molding for the house that we are moving to. And then there is the Doggy Door issue. And oh yeah, the issue with bumps on my neck.

The truth is that I haven’t felt like writing lately. There are internal and there are external thoughts, and my thoughts have been more inward. Talking about stuff has just seemed silly and uninteresting. But talking to myself about stuff was full of insight and expanding horizons which, when expressed out loud seemed, well -- silly and uninteresting. So inside I had an appreciative audience, and that is why you have been left out.

Crown Molding

The smaller house we are moving to probably next week is weird. Marilyn has a thing about Crown Molding. I think it represents something finer – an achievement of taste and luxury. I’m rather ambivalent on the Crown Molding, but then I’m an architectural clod. But the house has odd ceilings. I don’t know why we didn’t pay attention to this when we initially viewed the house. To my way of thinking, ceilings and walls should be flat and meet in nice straight and even seams. But this house is blessed with ceilings that, for no discernable reason, suddenly jut off in odd angles. And this happens in most of the rooms. This is supposed to be modern I am told.

I asked the guys that are doing the painting and who are planning to install the Crown Molding if these strange angles would present a problem. “No, no problem at all.” They had dollar bills floating in their heads. The more confusing it was the more time it would take and the more money they would make. I also figured they had a new Compound Miter Saw that they wanted to try out.

The whole Crown Molding thing bothered both Marilyn and me. But we just couldn’t think it through. But last night our stepson sat down with us and simply said, “I think you should drop the Crown Molding idea.” After reacting with shock and indignation, we started imagining the house with the molding. Let’s see now. Would the molding follow all the weird cants and angles of where the ceiling met the wall? That wouldn’t look right. Maybe they didn’t follow all the changes but ignored them and just continued around the wall as if the ceiling hadn’t changed. That seemed odder.

Marilyn is chagrined. Our new house will have no Crown Molding – which is not what she envisioned at all. Our step son, with a simple statement, redirected our future.

Health

This all occurred after I returned home from meeting with a ENT Surgeon. I have two bumps behind my jaw just beneath my ear lobes. They are pretty much unnoticeable unless someone starts staring intently and the sudden inspiration hits them to proclaim, “Hey Jerry, you are bumpy.”

This fact has led me on a journey which has eaten up my vacation time like mad. Let’s see, there was an Ultrasound which confirmed that yep, there were bumps. Then to a General Surgeon whose learned reaction was, “That’s odd. Bumps on both sides at once. That’s odd.” Then off to get a MRI. This is when they shove you in a tube and suddenly the machine starts screaming at you with burps and bangs and screeches all the while using tiny magnets to slice through my torso – so fast that I didn’t even feel it. Okay, I’m exaggerating. It wasn’t my whole torso being sliced up, just from the shoulders up. Kinda’ like being beheaded. Then back to the General Surgeon who got all agitated and said I needed to see an ENT Surgeon. Now!

Isn’t it amazing how a doctor’s demeanor can influence the life of a patient?

With dreaded fingers I punched in the number on my phone of Houston ENT, which is a pretty big operation here in Houstontown. In my mild manner I explained that I needed an ENT Surgeon now! What for? Bumps!

This was last Thursday. It happens that a surgeon could see me next Tuesday. There definition of now and my definition of now weren’t in synch. But the surgeon they scheduled me to see had magnificent credentials. So I clinched my teeth and went in to see her yesterday.

Now understand. I got a thick book from the library. ‘11/22/63’ by Stephen King. That way I would have something to read while in the hospital. I DVR’d a bunch of shows so I would have something to watch while recuperating at home after the hospital. I was prepared. I was pretty sure that I would be surgicated this week.

The surgeon was a woman – a confident, kind and open woman. She had my MRI results and asked me a bunch of questions and joked with me. She didn’t have ambulance attendants standing by. She did a bunch of things to me like stick an alien probe down my esophagus and taking a needle biopsy, which hurt. Her conclusion: She is almost certain that it isn’t cancer and she took the biopsy to confirm it. She will let me know the results in a couple of days. If it is cancer she will plop me in a hospital pretty quick and whack it out. If it isn’t then we have flexibility as to when we can schedule the surgery. She was calm and explained stuff and didn’t seem at all concerned. A doctor’s demeanor can make all the difference.

These are small tumors in my parotid glands.

Doggy Door

And finally Marilyn ordered a new Doggy Door online after two weeks of fussing around about where we would install it and working out schemes of how to get the animals in and out of the screened porch.

Finale

So everything is now calm and smooth.

We are moving to our new house next week, by the way.

Patterns Upon Patterns

We closed on the house Tuesday which was the day after I got my Ultrasound which was precipitated by a doctor’s visit to treat itchy hives. The treatment was for ant bites which it seemed I was allergic to but not really. It turns out I was allergic to high doses of oral penicillin which I received for an infected tooth but this has nothing to do with the house we closed on. Neither does the MRI I am getting next Tuesday – and I have to take some time off work to do that. Did I mention that I work nine hours a day?

You see, they say one should start a story at the beginning which is pretty easy if you can figure out where the beginning is. It is when patterns are overlaid with other patterns you step back and look at it and ask, “What is it?”

Who knows? But I’m pretty sure that we now own two houses. It is pretty hard to keep up.

I think that at this stage of my life, which can be described as decrepit agedness, I am supposed to be relaxing and refreshing in the joy blissful...whatever, bliss. Apparently someone didn’t get the memo…I mean email…or maybe it was a tweet.

We plan to move to the newer and smaller house after it is renovated a bit with things like carpet and paint and crown molding. Then when we finally move, one would think that I could then sit back and succumb to a peaceful lifestyle. But no, then we have to figure out what to do with the house we are abandoning. We are exploring options. But whatever the case, it will then have to be renovated with painting and re-plastering the swimming pool and throwing some sheet rock here and there. All of this is the first pattern.

Overlaid over, or maybe underlaid under all of this is damn doctors. You see a tooth started hurting and the dentist surmised that I had an infection and prescribed penicillin to knock it out. Five days later, on a Friday afternoon, I got bitten by a bunch of fire ants. It was annoying, but no big deal. The next day I started itching. Two days later I had welts all over me. Being mathematically inclined, I put two and two together and went to the doctor and told her that I had an allergic reaction to fire ants. She gave me a shot. The next day I had even more bumps and walked around itching and scratching like mad. Finally, the third day after the shot, it suddenly hit me. I was taking a lot of penicillin! I stopped taking it. A day later the itching stopped. Two days later the hives went away. While all this was going on Marilyn and I were packing and texting back and forth to Super Agent Marie and negotiating and drawing up plans trying to figure out what furniture would fit in the new house.

But the underlay has another layer. While at the doc for itching I mentioned two bumps that had appeared on either side of my jaw on my neck right below my ears. Marilyn has discovered these two things a month or so ago and said I should go to the doctor and have it checked out. So I used the itching opportunity to do just that. She hemmed and hawed and speculated that they may be related to allergies but just to be sure she wanted me to get an ultrasound. So we went for a pre-closing inspection on the house. Oh, I think my overlays are seeping through.

I got the ultrasound the day before closing. The technician was ironclad in office policy. “Well, what is it?” “I can’t say.” “Are they big?” “I can’t say.”  “Is it cancer? “I can’t say.” “What is your name?” “I can’t say.”

We closed on Tuesday afternoon which meant that Marilyn had to spend that morning getting her nails done. I, meanwhile, stayed busy on the phone, computer, and texting trying to work out a last-minute problem concerning the home warranty. By the time we arrived at the title company (late because they had moved without telling us), we were both frazzled and in need of a stiff drink or a nap. I then signed a zillion documents and passed them to Marilyn so she could sign them (with her freshly done nails), and then passed them to the Title Lady who signed them. A fun way to spend three hours.

Well the ultrasound results came back and I had to report to a surgeon for a presumed biopsy, which as I understand it, involves sticking big needles in me. I was stoic. I girded my loins. But I wasn’t prepared for the doctor’s reaction. “That is odd!” he said. He was baffled why two bumps…tumors?...had appeared on both sides of my neck at the same time. “That is odd.” He said this four times. Apparently it is so odd that he is making me get a MRI. That is scheduled for next Tuesday.

As soon as I left the surgeon’s office I got a call from Marilyn saying we had to hurry to the new house because the painters were meeting us there. That was yesterday. Tonight we just finished meeting with the carpet estimator.

Why am I telling you all this? To explain why I haven’t been here, why I haven’t written, why I haven’t even looked at this site for a couple of weeks. I’ve been a little busy. It also explains why I may be absent a bit longer. Marilyn has explained that we need to go buy a living room rug tomorrow, which happens to be thirty miles away. You see, Marilyn is in charge. She is the house coordinator. Oh, she also mentioned that I haven’t blogged in a while. Sigh…


Oh, and my tooth is beginning to hurt again.

Delaying the Inevitable

As long as I keep writing I can put off emptying the dishwasher. The dishwasher thing is a repetitive task and I failed to repeat it yesterday which is why it seems to be a bit more urgent this morning. But I was confronted with priorities yesterday. Wrapping stuff in bubble wrap and packing them into  boxes seemed to be of such a high priority that I sort of assumed that the dishwasher thing would just go away. It didn't.

Now there are silly people out there that would throw their hands up in exasperation and say, "Just do it! Then it will be finished!" They obviously don't understand how things work around here. If I just did it, my wife would just fill it up again and wash some more. Then I would be back where I started.

I tried to slyly circumvent this whole issue by buying paper plates. I figured if we would switch to paper plates the repetitive pace would slow down to a reasonable crawl. Now I see that to make this plan successful I would need to get paper glasses and paper pots and paper pans too.

It is not that I particularly dread emptying the dishwasher. It is just mind numbing. I tried once to rearranging things in the cabinets so I could put dishwasher stuff in a different place. Something new. That didn't go over too well. Then I set up challenges for myself. If I emptied the top part of the dishwasher then I earned the right to do something that I wanted to do. Like read. Or watch a DVR'd TV program. Then after that I would empty the bottom part of the dishwasher which would earn me the right to do some other favored activity. This was all okay except it seemed to just drag the whole process out.

I do admit that filling the thing is a more complicated process. And you tend to get your hands dirty too. I feel pretty inept at dishwasher filling. When I try to take on this exercise I spend a lot of time arranging and re-arranging trying to fit stuff in. Then I will invariably call Marilyn over and ask, "Did I do okay?" Marilyn would nod that I did, but I noticed that when I walked away she would reach down and re-arrange things some more and put more stuff in.

I grew up hand washing dishes. Although this is a longer, and I would argue a more thorough process, it is full of intermediate rewards. And you had the opportunity to talk to yourself and the dishes. When I would hand scrub dishes and came upon a particularly troublesome stain, I would then recite the 'Out damned spot!' soliloquy, or at least the part that said, "Out damned spot!" -- and attack it with vigor.

When you hand wash you tend to pay more attention to details. I would hold a glass up to the window and notice that it was a little foggy. "Aha", I would mutter, "you thought you would slip right by me. I'll show you." Or if you came across a really messy pot I would consider it a challenge. "Ahh. You think you have me whipped. Well, the forces to good and truth and justice will conquer you. Take this! And this! And this!" You see, you don't have the opportunity to entertain yourself with a dishwasher.

Yes I know. The dishes still had to be pulled out of the drying rack and put up. But you had the opportunity to view you handiwork as you did so. It can be a proud moment.

Sometimes technology takes the fun out of living. There was a time when I received a letter through the mail I would smile and sit comfortably and lean back to read and enjoy the handwritten prose. Now I get emails. It's not the same. A long time ago I would be walking to my barracks after standing watch at 2:00 a.m. -- a long stroll to be rewarded with blessed sleep. During this dark walk I would recall a song and sing softly to myself and it was fulfilling and warm. I learned to look forward to those early morning walks -- singing to myself and breathing deep and feeling good. I didn't have ear buds and little machines full of music to circumvent my memory. I just sometimes seems that technology does not allow one to enjoy yourself by yourself.

The last two weeks have been busy preparing for our rapidly approaching move. A lot of new and sometimes frustrating activities. But somehow daily routine must continue. One doesn't replace the other.  I haven't even had time to visit here, write and read stuff. There is too much. But the routine must continue.

And I'm running out of words. I keep trying to put it off. I can't think of anything else to say to delay Emptying the Dishwasher.

We Saw a Movie called 'Hugo'

Actually we saw the movie Hugo last weekend on our TV. I would not have been interested in the movie except that my boss, who has specific tastes in movies which do not include kids shows, remarked, "You gotta' see this movie. It is really good." That wasn't enough to convince me because I had seen an advertisement for the movie and it seemed to be about a robot that vaguely resembled R2D2 and it just didn't interest me that much.

Then the next day a coworker stopped by my office and said, "Oh, by the way, watch Hugo. It will knock you out."

The Automaton, who is not Hugo

I mumbled that I wasn't too thrilled about seeing a kid's movie about a robot.

He smiled. "It isn't."

Later I mentioned the movie to Marilyn and she didn't seem too interested. She even sighed when I said it was directed by Martin Scorsese who had made a lot of famous movies that I didn't know the names of. I continued with what someone told me. "Scorsese's granddaughter had read this kids book and told his grandfather to read the book because he should make a movie about it. He ignored her and kept ignoring her until she badgered him into reading it. When he finished, he said 'This would make a great movie'" I don't know if that is true, but it is what I was told.

Marilyn caved when I found the movie on the AT&T thing and all we had to do was click on the button which would require us to spend $6.00, and it would be right there. Actually Marilyn sighed as if to indicate, 'Okay, you get your way this time'.

I can only describe it as a kids movie for adults, with the kids being twelve years old or older. So this means there is no sex or blood, but has intrigue, chase scenes, suspense, delightful young actors, and true history and....did I mention it won a bunch of Academy Awards? This was a very good movie and I can prove it. Marilyn didn't nod off once!

Georges Melies played by Ben Kingsley

In the last half of the movie you find out that it involves a real-life historical person. That person is Georges Melies who is credited with inventing movie special effects -- and actually did work with automatons, which are essentially programmed (wound up with cogs and wheels and gears and stuff) robots. Hugo, who is not an automaton, is a young orphaned lad who inadvertently discovers the old, grumpy and dispirited Melies who now works as a toy and watch repairman in Paris in 1931.

The Inspector and his fine actor dog

Hugo Cabret lives by his wits in the walls of a train station where he makes sure that all of the huge station clocks are kept wound. He steals his food and is always dodging the Train Station Inspector and his trusty dog who I think did a fine acting job.

Hugo meets a lovely lass named Isabelle who is the daughter of Georges Melies. Hugo and Isabelle are completely different personalities. She is the bolder one while he is a bit reserved. Together they join on a venture of discovery and resolve to do the right thing, which ultimately leads to the heart warming climax of the movie.

Hugo and Isabelle

I understand the movie came out in 3-D and I can see how it would truly be dynamic in this medium. We watched it in plain old 2-D eating pizza in our den, and we were blown away. The colors in the movie seemed especially vivid, the set design and cinematography was stunning. Did I mention that one of the producers is Johnny Depp? I don't know if that means anything, but I thought you should know.

I usually take a dim view of the Academy Award stuff, but they hit it in the mark this time. It is nice to see a good, clean movie without all the cursing and deep, tortuous messages, and nudity and violence be celebrated.

My boss asked, the following Monday, "Did you see it?"

"Yeah. It was really good."

"See. I told you."

I recommend the movie. Marilyn recommends it too.

Hugo Cabaret

 

At War With HGTV and DIY

Our Super Agent Marie said that we should be madly packing right now. She doesn't understand that we don't madly do anything. We will go about our packing business sedately, complaining all the way. And take a lot of coffee breaks to pat ourselves on the back that we packed three boxes today.

We will soon be moving to another house. I think. Super Agent Marie tells us that everything is go, except for this and a little of that, but it is all falling into place. Marie is optimistic by nature. I, in turn, concentrate on planning. I have found that one can make a career out of planning -- in fact, I have. The trick is to plan and plan and figure that somehow the work will get done.

As you can see I am talking about personal stuff. My Chief Critic and Adviser Marilyn tells that I need to blog about personal stuff because that is what people want to read. She says that when I write about history or 'facts' people turn off. I start to reply that I don't care about what readers think -- but then I figured I better be careful because that may not be 100% true.

But you see, moving has presented us with a conundrum. I think it all has to do with HGTV and DIY, which are two television networks whose mission it to tell you that you are doing everything wrong.

To begin, we are moving into a smaller house, and our bigger house furniture simply will not fit. Logic says sell the stuff or give it to the kids or have a garage sale or donate it to somebody. With this in mind we can: (1) simply move and tag everything that is to go and then get rid of the rest; or (2) get rid of the rest now and move what is remaining. But HGTV and DIY has explained to my wife that we have To Stage our house in order to sell it.

Staging is based on the premise that buyers are too stupid to imagine what an empty house will look like furnished. So you need to present a furnished house to prospective clients with no clutter. (Did you know you aren't not allowed to show family pictures!) There are actually companies that will come in and put temporary furniture into your home for staging purposes.

Who comes up with these ideas? Somehow in years past houses got sold that were completely empty. To my way of thinking I would prefer to see an empty house so I can imagine where our furniture might go. In fact, the house we are buying was empty. But it seems that I am old fashioned in my thinking.

So you see the conundrum here. Do we move just what is essential and leave enough to stage the house? That sounds like a double move to me. And when and where and how do we get rid of the furniture that we need to get rid of. Post staging?

I've called AT&T and asked if they can remove HGTV and DIY from our channel line up. Nope.

I've given a thumbs down on Stupid Staging but Marilyn is convinced we have to do it.

And then Marilyn told me we have to replace the bathroom faucets. Why? Because they are gold.

I wisely comment: "I don't understand. We like our faucets. We are happy with them. What's the problem?"

Marilyn responds: "On HGTV when they show houses to people, if they see gold faucets they react with 'Oh my God. Gold faucets. How horrid!'"

Foyer Light (with nowhere to go)

I'm here to proclaim that HGTV does not set the standard of acceptability. I am adamant that we leave the faucets as they are and if buyers don't like it, I don't want them to buy my house! As you can see, my forte is logic.  


Oh, and she says we have to replace the vintage foyer light which she got off Ebay because no one else will appreciate it. Do we have a place for it in the new house? No, but... Then there's the problem of the custom built fireplace mantle (also an Ebay acquisition). Do we take it with us or leave it in hopes that it will help sell this old place? And on and on and on.

Mantle (take or leave?)

There is so much more going on. It seems that we have to buy a new refrigerator to go in the new house because our current refrigerator is not stainless steel like the other appliances. That sucks, and I don't even like stainless steel appliances. I am buying the house in spite of stainless steel appliances, just like someone can buy our house in spite of gold faucets. Then my dear wife is insistent that we replace most of the light fixtures and put crown molding throughout the new house. I think HGTV and DIY suggested that. Then we have to buy shelving and cabinets because all of that stuff in this house is built in. Oh yeah, she figures we definitely need carpeting in some of the rooms because the dogs can't scramble around on hardwood floors. I think there is more. I can't remember.

Books - No Bookshelves to take them to

So planning to move is not an easy thing. The general plan is to move and then fix up the house we are moving from with fresh paint and a nail here and there and then put it on the market. Seems straight forward. But when we start getting into the specifics. I can't figure out the order of activities.

So the plan is....to plan and figure it will somehow fall together. Oh, and pack a couple of boxes today.

There. I've just written about Personal Stuff.

The Strange History of the Willie D

Now those of you that routinely read this blog know that I enjoy history, especially those little nuggets that no one ever hears about. How about this?

In World War II there was a Navy ship that: (1) Wrecked a companion ship as it pulled out of harbor; (2) Depth charged the President of the United States; (3) Torpedoed the President of the United States; and (4) Shelled the home of a Base Commander. No, this is not an episode from McHale's Navy, but it would make an interesting movie.

World War II. The Navy was frantic for manpower -- pulling kids just out of high school and off the farms, quickly training them, and shipping them off to war. This was the situation with the crew of the USS William D. Porter, (the Willie D) an escort destroyer built in Orange, Texas. Most of her 125 officers and crew had never been on a ship before.

After leaving the Orange shipyards the Willie D berthed in Norfolk, Va.

Yalta Summit

Now a few of us know of the famous Yalta Summit  in Tehran with Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, and Josef Stalin. Our own Willie D helped make this happen, or almost not happen.

On November 12, 1943 Roosevelt, his Secretary of State, and his Joint Chiefs of Staff set sail on Roosevelt's yacht for a friendly cruise in the bay. This was actually a top secret ruse, because the yacht pulled up along side the battleship Iowa and all the dignitaries, 80 in total, were transferred to the Iowa.

Prior to this, the Willie D was ordered from Norfolk to meet the Iowa Task Force. No one knew what was going on, and the Willie D pulled out of port for what was seemingly a typical mission. But things didn't start off well. It seems that when they raised anchor, no one explained that they were supposed to raise the anchor all the way. Somehow the anchor snagged the ship next to them ripping off its railing, life rafts and a small boat. I can imagine the Willie D radioing an "Oops, sorry 'bout that" as they continued on their way. The anchor suffered only minor scratches.

The Willie D met up with the task force which included Battleship Iowa, two aircraft carriers and three destroyers. Orders were given for strict radio silence. This was a secret mission.

The task force traveled at high speed across the Atlantic. The trip would take eight days. During this time all the ships would continue training and exercises with their crews.

While traveling through U-Boat territory, anti-submarine drills were being conducted. Suddenly in the wake of the Iowa was a huge explosion. All ships immediately went into anti-submarine maneuvers with urgent signal lamp messages passing back and forth between ships...until there was a meek little message from the Willie D. The message explained that there was no submarine and it seems that a sailor had forgotten to set the depth charge trigger to 'safe', and it accidentally rolled off the deck into the water....and it exploded after the Iowa passed over it.

Soon afterward a freak wave hit the Willie D  and washed a sailor overboard and he was never found. Then the engine room lost power and fell behind the convoy. Admiral Ernest King was the Chief of Naval Operations on board the Iowa. He was embarrassed and a bit pissed. Here he was with the government on the United States on board staring over his shoulder. He made it known to the Captain of the Willie D that he was indeed fumbling a career opportunity on this very high profile mission. Willie D's skipper vowed to do better.

On November 14 off the coast of Bermuda the Admiral thought it would be a good idea to demonstrate to the President how well the Navy could protect him. The President and entourage went to the deck to witness this demonstration. Target balloons were released and the battleship and destroyers fired their weapons destroying the balloons. Some of the balloons drifted toward the Willie D. Eager to demonstrate the ships competence they fired at and destroyed the balloons. At the same time the captain ordered a torpedo launching drill.

You see where this is going, don't you?

As is common in such drills, you "fire" at local targets, and the Iowa was the biggest target around.

Now this was a drill which meant that the primers that actually launched torpedoes were removed which prevented a real launch. So the captain ordered, "Fire 1!", and there was a satisfying click signifying launch.

Then "Fire 2!" Click.

"Fire 3"......whoooosh! A torpedo launch right at the Iowa.

If there was ever an "Aw shit!" moment, this was it.

The captain screamed at the Signal Lamp signalman to signal Iowa that a torpedo was heading their way. The poor signalman in a moment of panic signaled that a torpedo was heading away from the Iowa. The signalman realized his error and resent the message this time really screwing the message up by stating, 'We are backing away from you'.  The captain saw that the Iowa was staying on course and realized the signals must have been screwed up. So, breaking radio silence, he screamed to his radioman to transmit:

"Lion, Lion, come right!" Lion was the code name for the Iowa.

The Lion radioman was a bit stunned to hear anything on the radio, and calmly responded with:

"Identify and say again. Where is submarine?"

Iowa's radioman screamed in reply:

"Torpedo in water! Lion! Come right! Emergency! Come right! Lion! Come right!"

Did I mention that the President of the United States, the Secretary of State, and the Chiefs of Staff were all sitting comfortably on the deck? With a torpedo heading toward them? Fired by the U. S. Navy?

The General Quarters Alarm sounded and the Iowa picked up speed and turned sharply starboard. The sharp turn listed the ship dramatically and everyone had to grip the rails, and aides had to grab Roosevelt's wheelchair to keep it from rolling. Everyone could see the torpedo in the water heading toward them. The Iowa's guns began firing at the torpedo. Even the Secret Service had their pistols out intending to shoot that torpedo to protect the President.

The crew of the Willie D held their breath. The crew of the Iowa held their breath. But yes, the Iowa made the turn in time. President Roosevelt wrote in his diary, 'On Monday last a gun drill. Porter fired a torpedo at us by mistake. We saw it -- missed by 1,000 feet'.

Soon the convoy re-formed. When Willie D took up formation, they were dismayed to see that every gun in the convoy was trained on them. Admiral King got on the radio and asked, "What happened". The meek reply from Willie D was simply, "We did it". A few minutes later the contrite radioman of the Willie D radioed, "It was an accident".  

Was it accident? That was the question. Was this a deliberate attempt to wipe out the Executive Administration of the U.S. Government? Conspiracy theories were rampant.  Admiral King ordered the USS William D. Porter out of the convey and to pull into the Naval Base at Bermuda. The fleet continued on with its Yalta mission.

When the ship pulled into Bermuda it was greeted by the U. S. Marines with rifles trained on them. The entire crew of the Willie D was arrested. This was the only time an entire crew of a Navy ship has ever been arrested.

The crew was drilled in secret inquiry, the primary purpose was to find out if there was a saboteur on board the ship trying to kill the president. Finally a contrite and shaken Seaman Dawson admitted that he failed to pull the primer from Torpedo Three. When the torpedo fired unexpectedly he pulled the used primer and threw it overboard to hide evidence of his mistake.

Lieutenant William Poindexter, one of the ships officers, made an impassioned plea to the Inquiry Board. He said, "that the inexperience of the personnel of the William D. Porter, men as well as officers" had to be considered.

But the Willie D almost killed the President. Someone had to pay. Dawson was sentenced to fourteen years of hard labor. When Roosevelt heard about the sentence, he commuted it. He said that, it was just an accident. 

Word spread throughout the fleet. The Willie D  was a screw-up ship and watch out for her. In fact wherever she sailed she was greeted with, "Don't shoot. We're Republicans!"

What to do with the Willie D? They sent her to the Aleutians off in Alaska. She couldn't do any harm up there.

Wanna' bet.

Taking Aim at the Commandants Garden

During a break from exercises in a port in Alaska, when most of the crew was off the ship, a drunk sailor came back on board. He had an inspiration. He wanted to fire a big gun. He made his way to a 5-inch gun and figured out the firing mechanism and shot the damn thing.

Where did the shell hit? In the front yard of the Base Commandant where he just happened to be entertaining senior officers and their wives.

This just further eroded the ship's reputation.

The war was hitting a fever pitch in the Pacific. A more seasoned crew was put on the ship and it was sent to fight. It fought well. During the campaign near Okinawa it shot down a high speed kamikaze diving at them. The plane struck the water and continued forward in the sea and exploded under the Willie D. It took three hours for the ship to sink. The total crew was rescued.

Rescue of Crew from Willie D

Did I make this story up? I'm not that smart. Take a look at Article from Wikipedia, and An Article by Gregory Freeman, and Craziest War Stories.