70 Years Ago

For the past few years, I've procrastinated on cleaning up my grandfather's memoirs to publish them. I've decided that the best way to get this done is to just focus on spelling and punctuation. I'm not allowed to fix his grammar or factual mistakes.

I'll save that for the epilogue.

Anyway, Grandpa was a second lieutenant in command of the 21st Quartermaster Car Company stationed at Fort Lewis. He was 29 and engaged to my grandmother, Margaret. Grandma was living in McMinnville, Oregon, working as the society editor at the local weekly.


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Now to Pearl Harbor, the day that "will live in infamy," according to President Roosevelt. It was Sunday and Lt. Quinn and I were lolling around in our quarters reading and writing. The radio was playing some innocuous tune and I was thinking that in a few minutes I would have to bestir myself, strap on my .45 revolver and walk to the battalion headquarters of an engineer company where, during a brief ceremonial revue of area guards, I was to take over my shift as OD (officer of the day).

The area of my responsibility included several units in my end of Fort Lewis. Each unit contributed, by roster, men as guards and officers as officer of the day.

I had just risen from my writing desk when the radio announcer stridently reported that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. Quinn and I stood glued to the radio for a few minutes, appalled and excited. I couldn't wait any longer and almost ran to take over my OD post. Quickly Fort Lewis was rousing from the somnolence of a Sunday to a state of almost hysterical animation.

Early that night as I was sitting in one of the engineer battalion offices, having only minutes earlier visited all guard stations in my duty area, the telephone rang. It was a guard stationed at an enlisted men's beer joint in my area. He said there was a riot and he needed help.

I grabbed two of the largest men in sight and armed them with baseball bats (enlisted men in the newer units had not yet been issued arms). We jumped into a jeep and raced to the beer joint. Inside, men were packed like sardines, many of them drunk, all celebrating in advance of the action they knew was coming. Every voice in the room was in high gear. Several fights were in progress.

I was too short to see over all the heads and wasn't sure what was going on. The two enlisted men and I shoved our way to the bar and I jumped on top of it. I blew my whistle and motioned in the direction the two men should take. Without laying the bats on too heavily, they soon broke up the fights. I was herding everybody out when the MPs arrived and took over. At least the men had let off some steam that night without much damage.

The next day war was declared against Japan and, soon after, against Germany and Italy. Nineteen US ships had been sunk or otherwise destroyed at Pearl Harbor and 3000 Americans killed. A tight lid was placed on Fort Lewis, nobody could get on or off the Post without special orders from Corps. There was a feeling that the Japanese might be right off the west coast and we might be bombed or invaded. Total blackout was ordered and most units, including mine, were ordered out into the prairie hills east of Fort Lewis for the night,

We bivouacked at night, using only the blackout lights built into the lighting systems of the newer cars and trucks. It was confusion on a vast scale. The next day the Army was reassured that we weren't about to be invaded; we returned to the post. But Fort Lewis was buttoned up tight for more than a week.

I was on the phone to Margaret as soon as I reached our unit area. We decided to get married the following Friday, December 13, if I could wrangle approval to leave the post and go to McMinnville. My friend, the colonel, Corps Quartermaster, gave me that permission.

We are the 9%

I was in the Ballard Fred Meyer last night, looking over their micro-brew and import selection. I didn't want to drink much that night, just wanted to sample something new during dinner.

A fellow shopper stepped up beside me. "Looking for a Belgium ale?" he asked.

"Not particularly," I replied, a little shocked that a stranger was talking to me. "Just looking for something new, you know."

He pointed to a pint bottle. "Have you had this yet?"

"I think I have," I said, recalling the bottle as something someone brought to my birthday earlier this year.

We stood there in silence, then he said, "Have you had Doghead Fish* Ale?", and pointed down the aisle.

"Which one?"

"This one," and he picked up a four-pack of bottles and handed it to me.

"It's good, eh?"

"It'll knock you down," he said, and walked away.

I looked at one of the bottles, and saw that this particular beer was 9% alcohol. For context, your normal beers average between 5.2 and 6%. Figured that's why it was sold only in a four-pack and not your usual six-pack.

So I put it in my basket, along with my frozen dinner-in-a-bag and colored pencils, and went home to subsequently consume all four bottles.

So much for sampling.

*or "Dogfish Head Ale" - I can't be responsible for remembering such things.

The New Normal

Facebook and Twitter have become the new blogger.

I don't write much online anymore, obviously. I'm active on other social networking sites - where I can post without thinking too much.

I also write every day in a journal I keep on my computer. A Pages document that sits on my hard drive. Perhaps at the end of the year I'll read through it and think something's special enough to post online.

Or maybe it'll all be too painful.

I also want to invest in a new laptop next year, so maybe when I get a new lappy I'll be motivated to write more, but for now I guess I'll have to deal with the fact that I've posted around 6 to 7 entries for all of 2011.

Perhaps I'll just kill this here blog, like I did Write That Down. Sure, it'll still be online, but understood that it's a dead blog.

And maybe sometime in 2012 or 2013, Google will decide to erase all blogger URLs that haven't had any activity in the last 12 months. Won't that be something? Remember Journalspace?

Anyway, I was able to keep to my New Year's resolution to write every day for this year, perhaps I'll be able to write every day next year too, but at least publicly.

So what I'm saying is I may kill the blog, but don't give up on me yet.

Jesus...

Benefits of the Position

"Leniency for a Rocketman?" I ask the Parking Enforcement Officer as I walk up to my car. He was in the process of writing me a ticket for my expired sticker.

"Well, I guess," he says, looking up - then doing a double-take as he noticed my outfit. "This is your car?"

"Yes. I know it's just a Tercel, not a rocket, but..."

"Okay, I gave them a break, so I'll give you a break too," he says, pointing to the people getting into the Lexus behind mine. "Fairness for all."

"Thanks," I say and march towards the metering station.

"Hey," he stops me. "You said this is your car?"

"Yes, it is."

"You have to move it."

I point to the metering station. "I can't just buy more time?"

"No, you have to move it after two hours," he says gruffly over the honking.

I don't want to get off his good graces, so I do a quick about-face and head towards my car. "Oh, okay. I didn't know. Thanks."

The people leaving the space behind me - the ones who also got a break, almost hit an SUV as they're pulling out. Hence the honking. The honking and road rage continue down the street. When the two cars are at the intersection, the driver of the SUV gets out to confront the Lexus, which speeds away around the corner.

I put my goggles on and drive away.

Carefully.

God Hates Churches

When I was in Christchurch, New Zealand in 2006, I took a picture of the cathedral. It looked like this:


Today, it looks like this:


If I ever meet that earthquake, I'm gonna punch it in the face.

Cake Judge

On my next trip to my car two hours later, there was a guy selling Real Change in front of the liquor store.

"Hey big man," he says to me as I walk by him.

"How's it going?" I ask, in an unusual response to people on the street who want to sell me something.

"I'll tell you, big man," he says, then pauses.

I stop and turn around. "Yes?" I say. Again, another odd move for me.

"I'll tell you, I... I could be a cake judge!"

I was a bit taken aback by this, then a young woman walked out of the store and his attention snapped to her.

"Hey, my pretty lady has returned!" he said to her.

I continued on my way.

Ten Years On

I've decided to type up all of my old journals - primarily to consolidate everything into one place that's not a large cardboard box in my office, but mostly to make it all searchable.

Anyway, last night, I came across this gem from January 3rd, 2001 - during rehearsals for "The Sizemore Interviews":

Heffron's "The Main Room" directed by Fetzer is rehearsing in the black box right now. Bruce gave a tour of Annex. Tim and I followed him too, even though it feels like I live here sometimes.

I'm glad to see that so much of my life has changed in 10 years.