Hi-Flier vs FMK

Good Morning,

 I have always enjoyed flying a kite.  There is just something about watching it soar high in the sky that creates in me a feeling of freedom.  It can be mesmerizing as it drifts to and fro yielding to the whims of the wind, while I’m feeling the gentle tug of the line confirming our connection.  Whimsically, there is the probable impossibility that the right gust of wind may take it and me along with it, into that world when kites go when they disappear into the sky.  I did say probable impossible didn’t I?

 The first kites that I flew as a kid were the ones I would buy for 10 cents at the local hardware store.  They were usually “diamond” shaped, Hi-Fliers and made with thin paper and two wooded sticks to form a cross.  It was a good thing they were only a dime, because they could easily be “eaten” by trees.  Think of Charlie Brown here.  Not enough tail, usually made from a couple of rags torn in strips, could cause the kite to suddenly head toward the ground nose first at an accelerated speed with no chance of recovery. Horrifying.  If you were lucky no sticks were broken and Scotch Tape (the real stuff) would fix the torn paper.   It was critical to get the tail length right if you had any hope of keeping one of these beauties in the air.  Too much tail and the kite would be too heavy.  Too little and it would loop and dive and with only one string you could only watch it’s demise. 

 Salvaged sticks, a precious commodity from kites that had met their untimely demise could be reused to construct a new kite made with newspaper.  I know 10 cents doesn’t sound like much now, but in the early 1950s minimum wage was only $0.75 an hour and my allowance was 50 cents a week if I mowed the lawn.  A kite was an investment.  Oh yea and there was that ball of string as well, another 10 cents a roll.

 Anyway, repairing enough of those diamond kites eventually gave me the confidence to make my own.  Having an affinity for the unusual, the “Box” kite really appealed to me.  They were hard to control, but they really looked cool in the air.  I was 18 before I discovered the FMK (French Military Kite) AKA (Conyne) and fell in love with it.  It had everything I wanted in a kite, stability, great pull and a really cool look.  Not available in local stores, I had to build my own, but that was the fun and pride of accomplishment plus seeing a project come to fruition.  Patented by an American, Silas Conyne in 1902, it was used by the French Military to lift observers high in the sky during WWI.  Kind of gives a new meaning to “go fly a kite” yea right and get shot at…humm.

 Today, I went to the hobby shop and picked up four basswood sticks, colored tissue paper, polyester twine and rubber glue.  With a little luck, I will have a FMK of my own making in the air soon and with favorable wind, enjoy if only vicariously the sensation of flight once again.

 “Go fly a kite” I will!

 Love, Dad     

 Great link to Hi-Flier History

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Social Orb

Good Morning,

As you get older, and like me, you will be reminded more and more of your own mortality.  I think this is partly due to what I would view as a “Social Orb” that surrounds us from the time we are born and follows us all through our life.  This Orb, let’s call it a “Sorb” for it is fun to come up with new words.  [If you checked you would see that a sorb is a European tree (Sorbus domestica) for which the “sorb apple” is the fruit.  Yes , it is also an acronym for “Sex Offender Registry Board”, but I’m going to use it anyway, because I like it.]

Anyway, Sorb it is.  I picture it as a hypothetical sphere of social influences to your known world, which is primarily occupied by people.  Obviously, family and friends of family to start with from an early age, but much more beyond that, as you grow older there are the people you meet and bring into this personal “Spatial Sphere”.  Virtually anyone that has had an influence on your life will be in there, good and bad.  Actors, Singers, Teachers, School Friends, Military Buddies and I suppose the list could be endlessly defined, but you get the point.

Now to many [sic] of these people… you are the younger.  Certainly your parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, but also the other significant people you grew up with, like your teachers, film heroes and sports figures and so on.  So this is where it starts to come together.  Any actuary would tell you that your chances of outliving these people are better than not.  You may call it a blessing or a curse.  I suppose it is a “blessing” to see our life unfold as we grow older, but it can also be a curse if we were to outlive our children.  The saying…“May you live so long…” very well could be a curse.

So during my time here on this unique 3rd planet as it has made 64 trips around the Sun, I have witnessed my parents, in-laws, all of my 14 aunts and uncles along with some cousins, close and distant friends, heroes and personal villains meet their final days on this earth.  Fortunately, very few can I say that I was happy to see them go, but to all, I can only wish you the rewards you deserve for the life you led.

Recent changes to my Sorb… Last week Fess Parker (82) died who was the Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone of my youth.  I even had a “Coonskin Cap”. A couple weeks ago Merlin Olsen (69) NFL player, actor and my celebrity “look alike” on Facebook was just older than myself.  Also worth mentioning is little known Fred Morrison (90) who was the inventor of the Frisbee.  We all owe some of our fun times (K-9s as well) to him, also died recently.

So with the changes, lay the reminders of my own mortality, as I am ever so increasingly bombarded with the passing of the people who have inhabited my Sorb for these so many years, I cannot help but feel the loss.  On what now seems to be becoming a weekly event, I am reminded just how ephemeral and precious our time here is and that it is within the essence of those relationships which make up the frosting on our cake of life.

This is not intended to be a morbid letter, but more like a “marble” letter, in that I want you to know it is a reality I live with.  So on those days that I may seem a little quiet or distant, it could well be that I am giving a moment of reverence to remember the ones that used to inhabit my Sorb. 

Love, Dad                                                                                                  

To Wilma, May God greet you with open arms.

 Photo: I could not find the artist, but the web site I got it from is: Here

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Riding the Spyder

Good Morning,

 Today we ride!  It has been a very long time (10+ years) since Jeanie and I have ridden together on a bike.  I really missed that…the primal thrill so intrinsic with riding a bike of course, but also the fun we had of just being together out in “it”. 

 The “it” of course is the quintessential catalyst of being surrounded by everything that being alive has to offer while being continually inundated with all the sights, sounds and smells, of the world around us as we pass through this kind of time warp where things beyond the immediate seem to melt away and we are one with the essence of the moment.  It gets back to that old biker saying, ”If I have to explain, you wouldn’t understand.”

 It is through the pure generosity of a neighbor that has offered us the use of his bike for the day that we are able to do this.  The bike is a canard by so many expected standards yet unique in design to be revolutionary.  The BRP Spyder Can Am, a bike made by Bombardier out of Canada is a “Trike”.  Not just any Trike, but one with the two wheels in front.  I understand this provides a high degree of stability and comfort on otherwise unfriendly roads.  The one we will be riding today is the smaller roadster version from the touring, but should give us all the feel of the new technology.

 What about Harley Davidson?  I would love to have a Harley Davidson and maybe that time will come when they can overcome elite pricing of their product.  A Harley Davidson Tri-Glide (Trike) will run about $36,000 just to ride it off the showroom floor.  That is about 10k more than a BRP Spyder RTs or Honda Gold Wing Trike for that matter.  So then the question becomes “To ride or not to ride?”  Whether it is better to stolidly hold on to the values of our fathers or to suffer the slings and arrow of not buying “American” and cast aside with indifference that stigma and to just focus on the moment while being fully aware that tomorrow may never come. 

6 Hours later….Back from the ride.

The Spyder Can Am is unlike any bike I have ever ridden, not that I have been on that many, but definitely different. It was also nice not to have to worry about falling, yet the sensation was still there until I accepted and got used to the flat turns.  You see, when you turn on a regular bike, the bike leans into the turn along with the rider.  Not so on the Spyder, because it has three wheels and no lean. It is because of that, the turns take on an un-natural feel to the seasoned two wheel rider.  I would think that it is not much different than an ATV.  Other than that, there was plenty of power for me and except for no brake lever on the right handle bar, everything else made sense.  I particularly liked the reverse, which I used a number of times. 

Our ride was up to Tortilla Flats for a “Bull Rider” burger, a favorite destination for riders in this area.  The ride has a fair share of 15-20mph turns and ups and downs which are always fun on a bike.  After-all, it is the ride and not the destination that matters when you are on a bike.  All in all, it was just pure fun to be out there in “it” again with Jeanie.

Is there a BRP Spyder RTs in our future.  Not sure, as this is the first Trike I have ridden.  A Harley Tri-Glide most likely will be next and then maybe a Gold Wing Trike Conversion.  It is a big decision and not one we will be jumping into anytime soon, but when we do, it will be the touring version. 

It is later than you may think, get out there in “it”!

Love, Dad

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etsi Deus non daretur

Good Morning,

 I took Latin as my foreign language in High School.  My counselors cajoled me that in order to be the architect for which I aspired, Latin was the language I needed to have.  Maybe that was true fifty years ago, but I now am pretty sure I would have been better served taking Spanish.  At least I would be able to converse with workers on the job site.  It’s a little difficult to do that in Latin.  Besides, since it is what is called a “dead language” (well except maybe for the Catholic Church) no one speaks it.  So because of that, most of what I learned has since dissolved into that esoteric world of “synapses past”. 

 A friend of mine posted a comment in Latin on Facebook… “Etsi Deus non daretur”.  Well curiosity then prevailed, as it seems to when I run into something strange and I had to look it up.  I found that the most common of several translations in English was “as if God did not exist”.  That seemed like a pretty interesting statement, which then required even more investigation.  I ask and found out that my friend posted the comment after having been plummeted by a couple of people from the “religious right”.  I suspect that it was probably at her doorstep.  Now I know my friend well enough that the last thing you want to do is push your religion on her.

 A little deeper… apparently the first recorded use of the comment was by a famous Dutch lawyer Hugo Grotius.  It is from the key concept by which God was removed from natural law; which in turn then became “autonomous”.  Once autonomous and subject only to our own consciousness, we could fashion it as we pleased in principle.  From then forward ominously, we had “natural rights” which were not based in anything but human will. 

 Well as you can imagine, organized religion didn’t like that too much!  What happens is organized religions will link human rights with a particular understanding of God, and then “absolutist view” of them ultimately takes hold.  Those who say they have the monopoly on the Truth will want to impose their understanding of such truth on everyone.  I believe that God gave us “free will” and anything that takes that away cannot be good.  I have a problem with a “few” deciding what the “majority” needs to believe.  Actually if you look back in history, it has been the cause of most of our strife as humans.  For instance we are still paying for the crusades today, just ask Osama bin Ladin.

 Our founding father decreed “In God We Trust” and not specifically in Christianity, Judaism, Islam or any of a thousand other religions out there that see God as a supreme being.  After all this country was supposed to be free from religious persecution.  Separation of church and state is a constant battle, as it seems there will always be those who want to impose their perceived morals on our government and the rest of us.

 I think my friend was right with her belief and has the freedom to express it as she chooses, while not imposing it on others.

 dum spiro, spero

 Love, Dad

Excerpts used from these sites: Paswonky ; Ignatius Insight

Latin Textbook image from: Writing Gooder along with the quote: “dum spiro, spero”

The image of Hugo Grotius is all over the web so I have little idea where it originated from.

The “Christian Monopoly” man: Well I did that one and probably will be hearing from Parker Brothers.

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Joel the Navy Seal

Good Morning,

 Standing in line at the pharmacy for some of my monthly meds, I met a rather gregarious gray haired gentleman.  His name was Joel.  He was talking with a woman about the current political scene in Washington and how things are getting screwed up with health care.  It isn’t difficult these days, especially in our community of pre-baby-boomers, to find someone with concerns.  Actually I only need to look in the mirror for that. 

 Back to the gentleman… he was mentioning how well he was treated in the VA Hospital after the war.  The war was Vietnam, which put him right in my era of time.  When the woman went up to get her prescription, I asked his age and he told me he was 68.  He had joined the U. S. Navy right out of high school to serve his country.  

 Since the Vietnam War was not a naval battle I was curious how he was wounded.  So I asked and it turns out that he was a Navy Seal.  They were doing a mission in Cambodia.  CambodiaIf I recall the government denied that we were even in Cambodia.  Anyway, there were seven of them in his team and when their mission was completed something happened and they couldn’t be picked back up.  They had to walk out through the jungle and hostile territory.  Three days into their trek, the Viet Cong ambushed them.  It was during that attack that he took a bayonet in the side, which as he later found out had nicked his right kidney.  When Joel got to this point in his story, he became very maudlin and his countenance changed.  I noticed his eyes begin to tear up and his voice softened as he told me that three of his men did not survive the ambush.  Mind you, this was about 40 years ago.  He did not go into any sensationalistic details about the attack other than they were killed, which told me that he kept a certain reverence about the whole incident.  I was left to assume that since he was now standing in front of me, they had thwarted the attack.  These men were Navy Seals; they were experts at their craft and knew how to fight and survive. 

 There is a well-known code among our fighting men and that is to leave no man behind.  For the next ten days, wounded, the four of them carried their three dead comrades out of that jungle.  As if it wasn’t difficult enough just trying to survive in that humid, bug and snake infested jungle while avoiding the Viet Cong; the task had to have been made even more horrendous by having to carry the rapidly decomposing bodies of three close friends for those ten days.  Joel stated that one of their fears during this time was that the Viet Cong would be alerted by the smell when they had to hide.  He also stated that after seven days the smell it wasn’t as bad.

 Now I have had the misfortune to smell a bloated dead cow along a country road years ago and I still remember my tongue hitting the roof of my mouth as I drove by.  The smell of death is unmistakable and rotting blood, well there just isn’t anything to compare with that.  It is beyond this layman’s comprehension, the incredible angst that these men had to go through for those thirteen hellish days in the jungle of Cambodia, just to survive.

 All seven eventually made it back to the states albiet three in boxes and the incident remains today, etched indelibly in Joel’s mind frought with all the emotion as if it had happened only last week.  By our conversation, I was reminded that this is the type of baggage our servicemen carry with them until their death.  They do and see things that should never have to be experienced.  “War is Hell” and anyone who has ever seen combat will tell you so.

 Thirty years later, Joel lost his right kidney.  It took that long for the damage to manifest itself and as he went into surgery, I imagined that he had to have revisited the moment when a Viet Cong thrust that dirty bayonet into his right side.  Joel is a survivor as with so many who have served our country.  Some with wounds obvious, others still held inside and with it all they are still “Seals”.

 As we parted company, I thanked him for his service.  He responded with “Thanks, no problem”.

 Love, Dad   

 Do not pass up the opportunity to thank someone in the military when you see them.  It will do you and them good.

 Seven Seals on the beach: U.S. Navy photo by Chief Mass Communications Specialist Robert J. Fluegel/Released Along with this photo you will find an article concerning “Political Correctness”  I’ll save that for another time.

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Tipping Point

Good Morning,

There has been a book written about it, “The Tipping Point” by (Malcom Gladwell), a music album “Tipping Point” by The Roots, a couple of TV episodes, even a philanthropic organization uses Tipping Point as its name.

In Physics: A Tipping Point is the point at which an object is displaced from a state of stable equilibrium into a new equilibrium state qualitatively dissimilar from the first.

In Sociology: Tipping Points are “the levels at which the momentum for change becomes unstoppable.”

There comes a time when in the course of ones personal human events that change is inevitable and unavoidable or in other words the “Tipping Point” is reached.  This is one of those times for me and once the process is started it cannot be stopped.  It will be interesting to see where it all settles out and how that new level of equilibrium will be, albeit dissimilar from the previous.

There is of course, a silver lining in every cloud and I know you cannot have a rainbow without the rain.  You also cannot have true freedom without independence… you cannot have independence without some form of sustenance and in this case that being currency. 

Change is never easy for us humans and I am certainly one that doesn’t embrace it easily, but when someone “moves your cheese” you better start looking for it in different places or die.

When everything you can do is spoken for ten years before you see it or make it in this case, that becomes the precipice off which we must leap.  So… as I feel the wind on my face much like a skydiver at terminal velocity, it will be the green valley below I see and the promise of simpler fiscal times that I will be holding onto, hopefully for the first, last and only time.

Love, Dad

Photo: Tipping Point Egg

Photo: Tipping Point String by Marie Fisher 2009 

Cartoon Character: By Ira Coffin Who Moved My Frigging Cheese?

Ira Coffin is a talented cartoonist.  Check him out.

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Valentines Day ~ 2010

Good Morning,

Happy Valentines Day!

Just about every year since I have been doing these letters, I have written about Valentines Day.  So why break the habit now.  This last year since the Valentines Day 2009 has been fraught with affairs of the heart for both the ones I love and myself. 

Not every and I dare say most marriages, do not run smoothly all of the time.  It is a near impossibility for two different personalities to go through a lifetime together and see eye-to-eye on everything.  If they do, it is either a marriage made in Heaven or a personal Hell, as someone in the relationship is subjugated and has no say.

Actually, I think a little turmoil is good for a relationship as it gives an opportunity to “clear-the-air” and put the relationship “back-on-the-tracks” when it has drifted.  New understandings can be created, changes made and communication re-opened where it may have been all but shut down.  Idealistically or “Nirvana” would be that there was never turmoil and a pure mutually beneficial relationship would exist for a lifetime.     

I have known some couples that seem to thrive on mixing it up and then making up and I’m not talking just about young ones here, but couples that have spent most of their life together.  A casual look at them and you wonder why they stay together.  There must be something there they both need however esoteric.

A separation can create an appreciation of the other person in the relationship and a little distance can also help bring a new perspective.  While it is an extreme measure to be sure, sometimes it can be the only way, albeit emotionally painful, to re-align ones priorities.  You can’t really miss something until it is gone.  That is no truer than of a life partner.

I also believe that it is critical during that time of separation to work on ones self.  It could be and usually is, one of the most difficult parts of the process, but there is a reason it all came to this and it is never just one-sided.  You either caused some of the problems or allowed them to happen.  Those reasons need to be addressed or they will continue to infect the present or even future relationships as the pattern repeats and repeats through your life.

I believe in marriage and that it can be a wonderful institution if maintained.  After all, I have been married 46 out of the 64 years I have been on this earth.  During that time I have been fortunate to have spouses who are also my (BFF) Best Friends for Forever.  You can’t do much better than that.

If you are fortunate to have someone to love, it might not hurt to remember him or her today in a way that is special.  It could be as simple as a Chi Tea Latté and a plain cake donut.     

 Love, Dad

PS: As always, all opinions expressed in this letter are my own.

 

Tigger Image: Thanks to TiggerMan

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Quatrain ~ Tightrope

Good Morning,   An insane Quatrain…   

Here I am alone… in my acrophobia,
In a place I never wished to be.
Walking the wire of life without a net,
Feeling much like someone lost at sea.

Here I am alone… high on the wire,
With my bare feet too far off the ground.
Striving hard to keep my balance,
While I am trying to not look down.

Here I am alone… with eyes strait ahead,
And head held high mostly out of fear.
With a constant effort not to waver,
I will “keep the faith” without a tear.

Here I am alone… in my angst,
Haunted by the things I should have task.
Knowing far too well the answers,
To many questions I will not ask.

Here I am alone… trapped in this mire,
With many things beyond my control.
Seeing my life quickly fly by,
While I am busy looking for my soul.

Here I am alone… and with each new step,
I approach the far end of the wire.
I see my life unfolding slowly,
In the end, can I ever retire?

Love, Dad

Tightrope Picture: Lawroberts

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Tigger Fan

Good Morning,

Did I say I was a Tigger Fan?  Well I’ll say it again… “I’m a Tigger Fan.”  The song

The thing is…I’m not quite sure exactly when I became a fan of Tigger.   I think it may have had its genesis when I was 30 and single again for the first time in 12 years.  For me, that was a time of new discoveries… discoveries about a new start in my life… discoveries about myself mainly and maybe things I had suppressed…about what I wanted in life and where I wanted to go with it from that time on.

I didn’t grow up with Tigger like a lot of people, although in a way I kind of wish I had.  It would make more sense than to adopt the character later in life.  Maybe less weird as some might think. (Probably my kids)  fortunately there are Tigger fans everywhere.  I see them on license plates, vinyl appliqués on car widows, keys and key chains and web sites.  One, which is literally “over the top”, is by Skip C who goes by “Tigger Man”.  I had to add his site to my Blogroll.  I’m not alone on this and cannot claim to be unique like tigger himself (The Only One).  In Randy Pausch‘s The Last Lecture: Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams, he asks whether one should live their life as a Tigger or as an Eeyore. Pausch indicated that he was a “Tigger”.  I like that.

I think the personality traits of Tigger represents many of the things I would like to have as my own and a few I could do without.

The traits I like:

  • Cheerful
  • Outgoing
  • Competitive in a friendly way
  • Complete confidence in himself
  • He never gets lost
  •  

The traits I care not to embrace:

  • Jumping into things totally based on emotion
  • Overestimating his abilities

That being said, there is a saying; “What we dislike in others, we dislike in ourselves”. Maybe that is the case with Tigger and myself as well.  For there have been times when I have done things totally based on emotion.  They usually do not turn out as well as the things that I can approach objectively.  Yes and there have been times when I have overestimated my abilities.  Those too are hard to forget, especially the feelings involved when I realized it.  So maybe I have all of those Tigger traits and just prefer not to acknowledge them, or maybe I just have.

The thing is… I like Tigger and the “kid” that the association to the character brings out in me.  I think it is critical to be a bit irresponsibly at times.  I think it is essential to stay young inside even while our bodies’ age beyond our control.  I also think that we cannot take ourselves too seriously and miss the opportunities that bring and share laughter.  That is a few of the reasons why I have a Tigger Tattoo.  The stance is significant because it shows that this Tigger is ready for just about anything that comes along.  You could say he is ready to bounce, ready to hug or ready to fight if need be.  Like so many things in life, it is all in how you look at him or the situation that makes the difference.  I really couldn’t think of anything else I wanted on my body for the rest of my life and besides, this way I am reminded every morning when I am checking out the “man in the mirror” just who I have chosen to be.  It is important that I like what I see.

I know and am constantly aware (like I think many people my age) that I am getting older and like everyone else in this world, I will have to come to terms eventually with my own mortality.  I know I would rather have “Tigger Fan” on my tombstone than “He Was Very Responsible”.  After all it is about making a difference and if mine is to help spread this philosophy, then I’m ok with that.

As I have said before, let the kid out now and then.  It will help keep you young.

Love, Dad

2020?  Well that’s when my 1000 marbles run out.  After that, it’s all bonus time baby!

Images:

Tigger Wink: Tigger Wink

Tigger Bounce: Mutiple palces on the web.

My Tattoo: That’s Mine.

Tombstone:  Tombstone Generator What do you want on your Tombstone?  Not the pizza.

 

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Baby-Boomer and proud of it!

Good Morning,

Last weekend I watched a rather interesting discussion unfold regarding generational profiling on tHRyving.com.   The main argument by the “Right” was that such did not exist and each person is unique and should not be unceremoniously crammed into a particular generational classification while the “Left” proposes that, yes we are all different, but… certain personality tendencies are shaped during our formative years, 10 to 18 and the significant events of the times.  We then share these similarities with our cohorts of that time.  Therein is the difference and what creates the generational gap.  Now obviously, there will be individuals that span these significant times in our history and are influenced by both.  There will always be others who will be outside of the sociological norms of any generation.  I have known a few.

So, what I am referring to is the “mainstream group”, the cohort group that makes up the most numbers common to the personal tendencies influenced by events of that generation.  I am a “Baby-Boomer” even though I was born right at the end of WWII and just before the 1946 demark in which most Baby-Boomers are classified.   We are sometimes referred to as “The Pig in the Python” as we moved through society.  Read Wendy Tandons comments on the blog about this.

I was 10 in 1955 when Rock ‘n’ Roll first started to emerge as a new music form. The golden years are considered 1954 – 1963.  Right in the middle of my “cohort years”.  Did that influence my taste in music? Duh!  Of course it did and still does.  I still enjoy simple lyrics and a heavy beat, but at the same time, I have also taken in other forms of music, even alternative, that has come along, excluding “Rap” of course, which I could never get my arms around.  For some reason “Rap” and “Rape” sound a lot alike to me.  It must be the pure vulgar ness and shock factor trying to be conveyed in the lyrics that turn me off.  No class, but that’s my opinion.  Maybe that is the purpose after all… to turn us Baby-Boomers off to this sort of sound.  Well they succeeded with me.  I just have a difficult time calling it music.

During my cohort years I was a Boy Scout.  Still popular in those days, before the saying “Be Square” took on a different meaning.  Yes, it was the Boy Scout Law that I memorized and remember to this day.  A scout is: “Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent.  All twelve of them at the same time and still trying to be a “normal” teenager.  Do you think that changed me?  The other one was the Boy Scout Motto: “Be Prepared”.  Well I’m still referred to as “such a Boy Scout” by those who know me.  It could be because I carry a knife, flashlight, lip balm, painkillers, breath mints, flossing brushes, jump drive and screwdriver with me wherever I go.  All that without a “Murse”.  I still tend to look for these twelve traits in other people and unfortunately have a tendency to judge them at times when I do not find them.  I do believe that people in general will trust a Boy Scout before most others.  Could this be part of what makes up the “Baby-Boomer” moniker?

I was mid-teens when the Vietnam War started up and when just out of high school faced the possibly of being drafted into the service because of it.  Many of my high school friends were and some came back in pieces and boxes, while others never did.  Did this war shape my trust in the war decisions that our government officials make?  Yep and not in a good way.  Do I still mistrust the government in general, yep I do and the older I get the more cynical I become.  Those twelve laws of the Boy Scouts rarely seem to exist anymore with our elected officials.

I was 15 when John F. Kennedy was elected to the Office of Presidency of the United States of America.  He held the presidency amidst much turmoil about him being Catholic, a questionable war in Vietnam, Soviet missiles in Cuba, segregation in our schools and human rights (MLK) were just some of the issues.  These issues affected us all in one-way or another, as they became part of our day-to-day.  I was 18 when John F. Kennedy was killed by an assassin’s bullet.  As I held Diana that day in November, we cried together for the loss to our country and I suppose a bit more of our innocence.  Did those events shape the way I look at things as a Baby-Boomer?  Yep.

While I was still 18, I joined NCR (National Cash Register) as a technician.  It was white shirt, tie and purple fingers from changing ink on National Cash Registers for most of 16 years.  It was a time when you joined a company as a career and not as a stepping stone to the next job a year or two later.  You had really good health insurance, a pension once vested, stock options, life insurance, great technical education and the assurance that if you kept your end of the bargain, you could retire with them.  Part of that was being to work “on time”.  You could be fired and loose your career if late too many times.  It was part of a “work ethic” of the times and well before “telecommuting”.  My work ethic was shaped by these norms, and they are still with me today.

I am a ‘Baby Boomer” and I am proud of it.  I do not mind the classification and I wear it proudly just like I did my Merit Badges in Boy Scouting.  I lived through that eight years with my “cohorts” and those years shaped many of my opinions and perspectives that I still embrace today.

I cannot speak for the “Xs” and “Ys”, but I believe I can for the “B-Bs”.  Are there generational gaps?  I firmly believe that there are, for I see it in my children, I see it in my grandchildren and I see it in my employees.  It is not a bad thing, it “just is”.  For the dissenting “Ys” out there… I say, “Deal With It” for the “Zs” are just around the corner baby and then you will see what I’m talking about.

B-Bs forever!  Or at least for the next 14 years.

Love, Dad

Citations:

Cartoon Image of Baby Boomers: New York Times Cartoon

Photo of JFK: Spartacus Educational

Photo of Citizenship Merit Badge: Boys Scouts of America

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