The Lasting Benefit of Early Starvings

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I DISCOVERED THIS in the days when Kraft Dinner was fifteen cents the box and there weren’t many boxes in the pantry.

No I am not here complaining I am celebrating.  Because one day back then, as I was surveying the last of the ice cream and it looked as if I wouldn’t be seeing any such thing for the next decade, I thought,

I wonder if I can extend this a bit, before they turn off the electricity.

It was in such a mood of scientific experimentation, willing to lose everything, that I moved as though in trance, set the ice cream container under the water faucet and ran a little hydrogen hydroxide directly over what was left in the container — chocolate, as I recall.

I was cautious, so allowed much less water than ice cream.  For a few seconds after I did this, it looked as though someone had poured water on the ice cream.  Which wasn’t all that successful looking, so I reached down with a spoon and squashed it together, liquid and solid, stirred it, tentatively.  Then I added just a bit more water, stirring, not shaking.

I’ll bet you’re thinking it looked like melted ice cream, but…  Well, it did look like melted ice cream, but listen to this:  It wasn’t!

When ice cream melts it does one thing: it melts.

But when ice cream is thinned with water it does something else, it freezes the dihydrogen monoxide into tiny crystals which are then stirred into a non-melted result which I call, “Water in Ice Cream,” or, “Water in Sherbet.”

Waitresses, when I order this dish today, or ask for a milk shake made with water, do not believe about the crystals, but they bring me the result if I pay them to do it..

Even now, you’re curious about this, aren’t you?  You don’t believe me, or can’t imagine that common hydroxic acid behaves in such a delicious way when stirred coldly into a dish of I.C. or India Charlie as we say in aviation.

Yes, it stretches the basic supply by some fifteen percent, but more, it tastes really cool.

You think I’m kidding, don’t you?

The Kid

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I REMEMBER HIM, I remember that kid in the fighter-bomber, photo taken Spring of 1962, Chaumont Air Base, France.  It wasn’t even my airplane, the one I spent weekends polishing.  It was the closest plane on the flight line that day, and I was the closest pilot, and the Information Officer said we need a photo for the base newspaper, Lieutenant, would you mind hopping up into the cockpit and sort of pretending you’re going to fly?

I looked around, there was no other pilot on the line.  ”Sure.  You want it with a hat, I guess, if I’m going to fly?”

“A hat?”

“A flying helmet…a crash helmet.  We don’t really fly unless we’ve got a hat…”

“Yes, please.”

I went and got my hat, and hopped up into the cockpit and fastened the oxygen mask and pulled the visor down.

“Could you leave the rubber thing loose, and the glass up?  We want to see…otherwise you’re a…”

machine, I thought.  Otherwise you’re a faceless machine.  I raised the visor, squinted a bit in the sunlight, unsnapped the oxygen mask.

“That’s good.  Could you don’t look at the camera?  Like you’re about to take off.”

“If I were about to take off, I’d close the canopy,” I said.  And I’d have the mask on and the visor down and I’d pull the safety pins out of the landing gear and if I really wanted to fly I’d probably start the engine.

“No, leave the hatch open.  Maybe look over about there, please?  Good.  A little more to the left.”

In a minute he said thank you and he and the photographer walked away.  When I got down from the airplane I didn’t think I’d be back to visit me 50 years later and I’d be calling me Kid.

I flew some training mission that afternoon, then went home to the barracks and typed a chapter that night that I didn’t know would be published, under I title I hadn’t thought of: Stranger to the Ground.

Forgot about the photo, didn’t realize that hundredth of a second would caption my military career and the career of every other fighter pilot in history: Force.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Boxers Train for Boxing, Soldiers Train for War

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IT WAS A BIT OF A CHALLENGE, I remember, to watch poor Sylvester Stallone get himself pummeled nearly to death on screen in the first Rocky motion picture.

[ INSERT PHOTO OF BLOODY WRECKED ROCKY THAT I DON'T HAVE THE COURAGE TO POST ALTHOUGH THE PICTURE IS IMPORTANT TO MY STORY SO PLEASE IMAGINE IT HERE AND CLICK CONTINUE READING]

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Meet Ebb Demont

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1968, I’M SURE IT WAS, late summer of 1968.

I had been flying my Parks P-2A biplane around the midwest, hopping passengers from farm fields, when I got a call from Billy Howe.   He lived in Pennsylvania, an airplane pilot, a dealer in antiques, and he owned the only other flying P-2A in the world.

So began a fine friendship.  I flew to meet Billy and his wife at a small grass-strip airport not far from Wilkes-Barre.  They took me to their home, the Howes leading the way as we entered.

From the front door a hallway led to the living quarters, a hallway mounted with antiques that Billy had collected: a Kentucky Standard rifle, a kitchen artifact, a painting or two.

“…and in this room,” Billy was saying from the end of the hall, “is this quilt, which as best I can tell was made in 1720, maybe 17-… Richard?”

He had noticed that he was talking to himself.  For I had stopped halfway down the corridor, transfixed at the sight of a painting, eye-level on the wall.

He retraced his steps.  ”Richard?”

His voice sounded as if he were speaking from the bottom of a well, a hundred feet down.

The face in the painting!  I know that man!

“Billy,” I whispered.  ”Who is this person?”

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Searching the K

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SHE ASKS TO BE ANONYMOUS, but what she sends is fascinating:

Dear Richard,  This is an experience that I thought you would enjoy.  Back around 2006 -2007, I and a couple of my friends became fascinated with the phenomena of Crop Circles.  We emailed each other pictures of the latest designs appearing in fields around the world and perused websites for the latest findings.  We discussed what we thought were causing these beautiful things to appear and their evolution from simple, rudimentary circles to complex geometric and alchemical designs.I suggested that the expansive media and internet coverage about them was directing more world-wide attention to the phenomena.  In turn, that focus was bringing more Energy to the designs by the growing fascination with them by so many people.   I proposed that I was going to try an experiment.  I decided to meditate on a mental image of a Dragonfly appearing in a bright, green field.  I did this only once, but could see it clearly.

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It Isn’t Often,

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THAT WE FIND someone out there who speaks our language perfectly, hums the same spirit, thinks the same thoughts we’d think, if we were them.  Is that truest family, does that make one feel a little less lonely in the world, or what?  Answer — It isn’t what.

Found it at http://dixiedynamitecoaching.com/free-to-a-good-home-dreams/

Asked permission to reprint here.

Got it.

It follows:

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Interview: Iran Part II – Answers from the Interviewer

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ONE OF MY REQUESTS to Alireza Bahrami when he asked for an interview was that I might be free to ask him two questions, myself.  He graciously consented.

RB: My first question for you, Ali —  What are the qualities and values that you believe most Iranians admire, and which define anyone that you and they consider an honorable, successful human being?

Glossary

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THIS IS SIMPLE stuff, but there’s a place for simple in our lives.  Expect this will be added to, along the way.

Good:  That which makes us happy.

Bad:  That which makes us unhappy.

Evil: That which makes us extremely unhappy.

Guilt:  The tension we feel to change our past, present or future for someone else’s sake.

Happiness:  A sense of well-being.

Meaning: That which changes our thought, and therefore our lives.

Philosophy:  A way of thinking about the universe that guides us in daily life.

Prayer: The conscious grateful understanding that we already have all we need, and that nothing can separate us from the source and principle of our being.

Religion:  Our way of finding what is true about the universe.

Selfish:  Acting in our own long-term best interests.

Truth: That which we accept as valid.