Memories
There are certain times when something happens that you will always remember, such as where you were and what you were doing when the event took place, and I have a few of those myself. And here are a few in no particular order.
The first one that comes to mind is the one that almost everyone remembers: September 11. I vividly remember sitting in the living room of my house, which I later sold to become a full-timer, watching television. My best friend, Pete, was visiting from Florida, which he did almost every summer. He was in the kitchen making a cup of coffee while my wife was cooking breakfast, and a skyscraper was burning in New York City on a live news broadcast. I turned around and told Pete and my wife to look at the TV, which showed New York was burning. And we spent the rest of the day watching the shocking news story.
Another event that I recall making a lasting impression on me was the first time a man landed on the moon. It was the summer of 1969, and I had only been out of the Air Force for a few months, working at Mercury Motor Express in Miami, Florida, loading and unloading over-the-road semi-trucks. And there was a television playing in the middle of the warehouse, where the boss had a desk set up so he could see everything. He called the eight or ten of us who were working that night over to watch the television, which was showing an astronaut taking the first step onto the moon. As an aside, it was shortly thereafter that I learned the warehouse I was working at was owned and run by the Mafia, and this was no secret, since the boss bragged about being a made-man, and serving three years in a federal penitentiary for stealing and shipping a semi-truck load of American cigarettes to Cuba, so I can say that, technically, I was working for the Mafia.
Another time that stands out in my mind is when I was 18 years old and had just graduated from high school in 1965. I seldom, if ever, received any mail, as colleges were not exactly knocking down my door to get me to enroll. I received a letter from the government informing me how fortunate I was to be drafted into the U.S. Army. I could've run away to Canada, which was very popular at the time, but being from Miami, I didn't think I could survive the Canadian winters. So I took this problem to my dad, who was retired Air Force, and he suggested that we see a friend of his who worked at the Air Force recruiting office, which we did. And despite my long hair, my only mode of transportation being a 1964 BSA 650 lightning rocket, and a somewhat lackadaisical demeanor, the Air Force agreed to give me a chance..... And the Army thanked them for taking me off their hands.
Theboondork
Early morning at Pete’s.
Flowers in the parking lot at Bass Pro Shop.
Sunrise at Pete’s.