Birds of a Feather (?)

     From time to time I have posted pictures of the American Bald Eagles that we are so fortunate to have as neighbors. I think I have also posted at least one of the blue herons which make good use of the large retention pond in our backyard. This morning the two species were almost on top of one another. It reminded me of The Odd Couple, or for you old farts, Mutt and Jeff. The eagle had apparently snared a fish and was eating it on the bank. The heron was tip-toeing nearby like a hyena at a lion kill.

     That looks like a fish tail under the eagle's left foot, but there is blood on his beak so I am not absolutely certain what he has there. I can't imagine that the heron would dare to leave the slightest impression that the eagle's breakfast might be in danger.

     In the local demographic of feathered fish eaters the eagle has to be the unchallenged alpha dog, so it was very surprising that the eagle never made a motion to scare the heron away. I'm curious if the birders out there have seen similar encounters.

     Thursday evening was the "Founder's Day" celebration. It commemorated the 215th anniversary of the founding of the military academy at West Point. These events follow most of the same agenda wherever and whenever they are held. There are a number of traditional toasts, a guest speaker, and brief talks by the oldest (I'm starting to get close.) and youngest grads present. Typically the dress is formal. Last year I suggested strongly to the president of the local chapter that he would double the attendance without sacrificing any of the agenda if the affair were not formal. He did and he did. Little did I know that he would go whole hog. We had 90 people at Alhambra Hall in the old town section of Mt. Pleasant on the edge of Charleston Harbor for a pig roast! It was good, but it couldn't match the one we had last summer on the edge of Penobscot Bay.

     There's no real news on the medical front(s). I'm still doing a lot of physical therapy, but the problems are so embedded in the neuropathy, that progress is hard to see. Durelle is finally going to get a lumbar MRI Tuesday. The cortisone shot worked like magic and is still working. The X-rays showed some sites where the vertebra spacing indicated the potential for trouble, but only an MRI will tell for sure.
     This week, while New England was seeing a couple of feet of blowing snow, we had 28 degrees and frost on the lawn. That is NOT a complaint you just heard.

Alaskan Earthquake of 1964

     Since I can't come up with much in the way of currently interesting material, I decided to dig into the archives. And I mean DEEP into the archives. On Good Friday of 1964 was the memorable Alaskan earthquake. We were living in Anchorage at the time. We later learned that it registered 9.2 (!) on the Richter scale, and that the resulting tsunami killed people as far away as Crescent City, CA. Shortly afterwards I sent a letter back to my folks in Massachusetts. Communication options were few. It cost six cents because it was Air Mail! Below is an actual transcript made from the original letter that I still have. I hope you find it interesting. There are many other stories from the ensuing days, but this is the unvarnished immediate reaction.

                                                                                                                       29 Mar 1964

Hello Folks,

     Well, not much to write about, but we did have a little earthquake over the weekend.  Seriously, we have had quite a time of it.  I was on my way home from work Friday, and in the process of running a couple of errands.  I was going to pick up an Easter egg coloring kit and an Easter lily.  Apparently the idea of my buying flowers for Durelle was an earth-shattering event, for suddenly I felt a weird, wobbling sensation as if a wheel were about to fall off.  I pulled over and stopped so I wouldn’t lose that wheel only to discover that my car wasn’t wobbling…the road was.  For an instant I was relieved because I was already anticipating car repairs.  Then I got things back into perspective.  After all, an earthquake can be at least as serious as a broken wheel.  That instant of relief to find that “it was only an earthquake” was a very transitory thing, but it still stands out in my memory because of its incongruity.

     I hopped back into the car and headed home; now only two blocks away.  The earth was still shaking, for the quake lasted over 5 ½ minutes.  For a few hundred yards it was quite a drive.  The road was even more slippery than usual and I saw one driver park his car and sit there minding his own business when the ditch on the side of the road moved over under him.  That is what literally happened.

     When I got home Cindy was still crying, but Durelle had everything under control.  A few lamps scattered some broken glass when they fell and bookcases fell over.  One kitchen cabinet disgorged some of its contents of Mark’s baby food.  There would be a mess to clean up, but no real damage was done.

     I did decide that it would be a good idea to get out of the house, so we all got in the car and wandered over in the direction of a friend’s house a couple of miles away.  We did see a collapsed carport and some cracks in the road, but we still had no idea of the seriousness of the tremor.  After we had travelled down MacKenzie Drive a few blocks, I suddenly realized that the horizon had changed!  I turned the car around and parked aiming south away from the collapsed area and told Durelle to leave if she heard anything that scared her.  I ran down to the point where the road disappeared.

     My first impression was that it looked as if someone had dropped a giant box of peanut brittle.  The ground was frozen about three feet down and covered with 6 to 12 inches of snow.  Thousands of chunks of those three foot thick slabs were jumbled in unreal disorder.  These pieces varied in width from  5 to 100 feet.  About a block from where I stood I could see my boss’s house.  Major Jack Hornsby, his wife, four kids, house, car, and dog had dropped en masse about 40 feet and slid north toward Cook Inlet almost a block.

     I yelled to him to find out what his immediate needs were.  He said his family was OK and that there were many people who would need ropes, helicopters, wrecking bars and first aid gear.  I couldn’t get through to the Air Force Base by phone to call on my radar shop, but I briefed a mobile ham operator on what I knew and he started the wheels rolling.

     With Durelle and the kids at a neighbor’s house away from the most dangerous areas I changed clothes and headed back into the Turnagain area.  This area of about 400 homes, ranging in value from $50,000 to $300,000, was the finest residential area I had ever seen.  It was located along a bluff a hundred or more feet above the ocean.  About 100 homes were flattened and tossed around.  Another 100 had settled, shifted and broken.

     It took about fifteen minutes to navigate the crevasses between the broken end of the road and Hornsby’s house.  Normally it is only a block.  He had gotten his family out and was commencing a house to house check for possible occupants.  I joined him, and in the next two or three hours we led several people out.  There must have been some panic at the time of the ‘quake, but while I was there, there was an amazing calmness and sense of purpose.  How those helicopters found places to land in those shambles is beyond me, but they must have made a dozen trips while I was there.  I crawled through one house that was actually upside down.

     We finally quit and crawled back to his badly worried family.  We all piled into my car, went home, settled the kids down with some hot chocolate (heated over a propane torch), and began to lay out some bedding.  Then that tee totaling Southern Baptist got himself outside about four ounces of bourbon just as if he knew what it was for.  I can’t say that I was surprised. Considering the state of shock, I’m sure it did a lot of good.

     When daylight came, we went back and retrieved his valuables, food and clothes.  Then I drove them out to the guest house on base.  We cleaned up some here, but without power and heat, we decided to spend the night with a friend with a fireplace.  We came back this morning, picked up some more of the mess and heated the house by leaving the oven door ajar.

     Alaska has been set back many years, but without exception everyone is digging in with optimistic enthusiasm.  There were almost no fires and well under a hundred fatalities, yet the ‘quake was actually stronger than the ‘Frisco ‘quake of 1906.  Coastal cities that have lost their “raison d ‘etre” will rebuild bigger than ever.  What I mean by that is that Seward, just named one of America’s “All American” cities by Look magazine, has lost its canneries, docks, and rail yards.  There is not much else in that town, but they are already floating bonds with initiative as their only collateral.

     Perhaps it is overly romantic to say that strong remnants of the Alaskan pioneer blood has made its presence known, but the way this place is bouncing back is amazing to me and yet taken for granted by the natives.

     I feel that my family will have profited by this experience.

                                                                                                                                                Frank

P.S.  Did that Seattle operator get in touch with you?

Happy Hour

     It's an empty blog without a picture. In newspaper vernacular I'm scratching around to find a few "column inches". A week ago the West Point Society of Charleston held a beer call at the Holy City Brewing Company. These events are not large, a couple dozen or so, but they are wonderful, multi-generational affairs. There are old fart retirees like us and some impossibly young active duty folks from local military facilities. Here's a shot of the gathering.

     You'll note that my cane is still nearby and that my glass is empty. It used to contain "Collision Stout". Click on the link above to explore the phenomenal assortment of flavors and types of beers. This is much more than a micro-brewery.

20th Anniversary

     5 February 2017, in addition to being Super Bowl Sunday, is the 20th anniversary of the day I wrote a letter to my boss telling him of my intention to retire as soon as it was practical for the company. There is nothing special about 7 March. I gave them 30 days notice, and for the benefit of the folks in Payroll, it was the last day in a pay period. Sanders Associates was one of the top tier electronic warfare companies in the country. In several niches they were unchallenged. Subsequent to my departure, they were purchased by Lockheed only to be later sold to BAE Systems. It is BAE, therefore, who sends me a monthly truncated retirement check. The truncation refers to the fact that I retired on my 58th birthday. Yes, on Super Bowl Sunday I will be 78.
     I am including below a transcription of that letter which I still have. I won't explain the technical references because my perceptive readers will get the drift.

     On this, my 58th birthday, I wish to officially announce my intention to retire from Sanders effective 7 Mar 97.
     It has been a great career with a wonderful assortment of challenges and opportunities, accomplishments and disappointments, and fine organizations to give to and draw from. When I started, a two-state logic device was a 12AX7 twin triode configured as an Eccles-Jordan multivibrator that ran on 220VDC and drew 150 ma of filament current. Today there are a million functional equivalents   on a single chip. My work has taken me from Fort Yukon to Islamabad, from Big Spring to Colorado Springs, from Dayton to Syosset, and from Oklahoma to New Hampshire. It has ranged from audio to lasers, from student to teacher, and from field engineer to General Manager.
     It has been a great ride. Along the way I have worked with hundreds of folks who have become, and will remain, good friends for life. Many of these people are Sanders people. I have worked at Sanders twice, and it was the caliber of its people that brought me back.
     Because of Sanders' generosity (as well as that of Mr. Dow and Mr. Jones) I am fortunate enough to be able to retire well before the age of 65. I look forward to attacking a large backlog of deferred projects. I leave with good feelings and best wishes. I hope I have helped.

     I did not want to be overly nostalgic, but it was a milestone and I thought that some of you might enjoy the letter.

A Puzzle

     It seems that even when we aren't at the Moorings, we are enjoying it vicariously by doing picture puzzles of it.

     This was a Christmas present from Cindy. She used a favorite picture of hers from one of her morning walks last summer and sent it in to a company that made a puzzle out of it. It took Durelle a month to finish it. Even in the photo here you can see that there are MANY similarly shaped pieces and that there are several large, monochromatic areas. In spite of a wagging golden retriever tail, there are no missing pieces.

     If you are wondering if Mocha is having any difficulty accommodating a new household, I offer Exhibit A:

     I paid a visit to the bus at ProTech where they are tackling a laundry list of fixes that are being worked on in between other jobs in their full lot. There are two birds killed with one stone. They have a "hangar queen" to work on at their leisure, while I get a winters worth of storage. They have maintained the bus since we bought it ten years ago. A few readers will not be surprised to learn that the beast takes 28 quarts of diesel oil. They also replaced a burned out transfer switch which might explain some of my battery difficulties.

     I still doubt that I will drive it to Maine. I am now driving the Corvette regularly and feel entirely safe. If you watched me exit the vehicle, you might have your doubts, however. We'll defer that decision for a while, but I do have to accommodate the schedule of my alternate driver. By range of motion and other measurable improvements the knee is getting better. I know we are not done with the knee, but sometimes it is hard to separate what is knee and what is neuropathy.

January in Charleston

     It has been a pleasant month in Charleston. Two days ago we set a new record high temperature for the date...80 degrees! I am back to using the cane. It is not quite as stable as the walker, but it is a lot more convenient. The rejuvenated Corvette runs well. My half hour driving around the development at o/a ten MPH went well. Friday I drove it to PT with no problems. I'll try it again tomorrow. I am doing a lot of PT: MWF outpatient and twice a day for forty minutes each at home. I am seeing measurable progress in several areas. I can step over higher thresholds, and the range of motion continues to improve. If a perfectly straight leg is at 0 degrees and a knee bent at 90 degrees is at...wait for it...90 degrees, then my knee goes from 2 degrees to 115 degrees.
     Cindy has a coworker at the paper whose parents are also old Nashua, NH hands. During their latest visit a creative Sunday brunch was arranged at Edmund's Oast. It is one of the names that consistently appears at the top of the list of fine eating and drinking places in Charleston. 
     The food was all we expected. I ordered a "small" charcuterie plate for the table.

     I had a Trout Hollandaise. I had never heard of such a thing, but it was excellent. the sauce was not at all cheesy. Even Durelle's cheeseburger was far from pedestrian.

     Here's the requisite group photo.

     The place also has extensive outside service, both covered and uncovered.

     As we were leaving, I took a picture of a very appropriate motto. Actually, it may have been on an adjoining business, but it is a good one nonetheless.

     So, it's not spring yet, but things are brightening up...both the weather and my prognosis. Although the knee mechanics are improving, old man neuropathy is not giving up.

Knee et. al.

     Since the only thing new in my life is surgery recovery, AND since I haven't posted in two weeks, I guess I am left with nothing topical but my health status. I had my right knee replaced on 30 Nov, was released from the rehab hospital on 9 Dec, had three weeks of in home physical therapy and started outpatient PT yesterday. There was a side note to my first day of PT. Over the past few years I have done a lot of PT at two local facilities: Sports Plus, and the Balance Center. Recently the Roper St. Francis hospital purchased both of them from Clemson University. They consolidated them where the Balance Center had been. It was an amicable takeover and all the old heads are still there. Durelle accompanied me because I am not (yet?) driving. First, while I was still filling out paperwork, a couple the the male therapists came out of the orthopedic side with big grins and handshakes. Then! while I was on my back on a table getting my leg stretched, three women from the Balance Center came over, one at a time, with more grins and big hugs. First was the lead therapist, then the receptionist, and finally "my" therapist. Durelle was sitting across the room observing the parade with a smile (I think).
     So, recovery is well underway. On Tuesday I saw both the surgeon that replaced my knee and, in the afternoon, my neurologist. With the former it was all good news. The range of motion, the incision, the swelling, and the X-rays were all excellent. The neurologist visit was not so pleasant. I remembered that, ten years ago, his predecessor told me that I had an "idiopathic, incurable, degenerative neurological disorder". In layman's terms he said, "We don't know what caused your neuropathy. We don't know how to fix it, and it's going to get worse."
     Well, sure enough, it is getting worse. From an annoyance in my feet a decade ago, it has now moved up above my knees. The neurologist also said that when it gets above the knees, it sometimes shows up in the hands. There is no sign of that, but it is an unpleasant thought. So, since the neuropathy restricts me to using a walker, the therapy regimen for the knee is being substantially modified. 
     As a side note; this afternoon I will go to Senator Graham's Charleston office to help interview candidates for the various military academies class of 2021!!!. Of the four candidates I will be interviewing, all want to go to Annapolis. Half want Marine Corps Infantry. Oh well, I guess it's too late to dissuade them. Seriously, their credentials are outstanding. One is a track star valedictorian. Another is Captain of BOTH football and swimming at Myrtle Beach High School!...and that's a large school.
     Life goes on...largely with Durelle's help. I still plan to try out the Corvette with a few laps around the neighborhood.  It would be nice to be able to drive myself to my own PT three time a week so that Durelle would not have to watch those unseemly spectacles that she did yesterday.😉