Semi-Complete

A Vote at First Friday on the Lameness of the Operations Manager's Excuses

I’m not going to spend a lot of time writing today because I have a house full of women and one of them is the Cali-Daughter whom I was privileged enough to extract from the depths of the Boston airport yesterday. I tracked her plane across the country all day long and couldn’t wait to see her.  A very abbreviated First Friday celebration preceded my drive into Boston. I cringed when I saw the state of traffic leaving Boston knowing I would be facing it on the return trip.

Her plane a little early which only complicated the danger. I walked up to her near the baggage claim and my heart skipped a couple beats. That old wives’ tale about pregnant women glowing has a basis in fact - at least if my daughter is used as an example. I tried to take charge of everything she was carrying only be curtly reminded that she was not an invalid. Her excellence extended to control of the traffic as the gridlocked highways were miraculously clear as we departed Boston. It was an all too short a ride to catch up on our respective movie watching and book reading.

A Very Happy Time at the Airport

Our rapid return to Worcester through a wrench into my wife’s plan (lifestyle) of always being late as she was not ready for our planned dinner out when we arrived. Another miracle transpired when she got ready in world record time (for her). A very hungry pregnant daughter has a remarkable ability to inspire. We decided to return to our old haunt Zorba’s in honor of our daughter’s arrival.

The Zorba Table

We hadn’t been back since we moved and it actually felt a little weird being back. The pizza was still every bit as good as remembered although the Panamanian side of the table had weird vegetable stuff strewn over theirs. The late dinner precluded a stop at Ronnie’s for ice cream (the ABFA would have been upset). We corrected that upon arriving home where the Cali-Daughter and I had some covered in chocolate sauce. She also re-commenced her attempt to educate me in pop culture and had me watching a new TV show she heartily recommended. It’s called Mr. Robot and predictably – I loved it. Something to catch up on over the coming weeks.

My Wife Mining for Cherries in the Sangria
She's Going to Kill Me

The day will be almost complete when the favorite son and the ABFA arrive shortly. All that will be missing is the Wingman – currently airborne on his way to Australia and the Shire. He’ll be in our thoughts today as the female of the species head for the baby shower and any attending males assist me in a recon mission in Worcester pubs.

Return to the Life Aquatic and Welcome Arrival Day

The last couple days I’ve started the day out back in the pool at the local Y. This is a true harbinger back to my high school and college days where I regularly spent at least an hour in the pool every day. The muscle memory, if not the endurance or strength, was still there. I was back to getting up at the same time I was when my commute was a lot longer but for some strange reason I really enjoyed the routine. Part of it was being back at a YMCA after all these years in a pool that was entirely reminiscent of the pool I grew up in.

Today does mark the First Friday of the Week which will be adequately, if somewhat hastily celebrated because there is infinitely larger game afoot. I’ll make a drive into the vortex of Boston traffic this evening to secure one each Cali-Daughter and accompanying First Blog Reader (cue the happy dance). She’s flying in for her final business trip to NYC before the November delivery date and will spend the weekend with us so the future gramma can dote. There will also be an accompanying baby shower – a major event for said future gramma.

First Blog Reader Progress as of Yesterday
The Current Panamanian Assessment of Belly = Male Child

The forces have already started massing for that event with last night’s arrival of the Maine Musquetera. She arrived while my wife, the next door Mafioso, and the PanaGals were touring Boston for the day. I was abandoned once the gals returned and the chatter in non-stop Español was still going on when I headed to bed. It’s been a lot of fun to watch as my wife realizes a long held dream of hosting a baby shower for her daughter. We thought it wouldn’t happen until this fortuitous trip arose. It will only be the ladies at the baby shower so I have made a huge sacrifice and volunteered to lead any accompanying men into Worcester for an abbreviated pub crawl. I would do anything for that gal.

One of my literary heroes returned in a book I finished yesterday. Jack Du Brul finally returned to writing about his geologist née hero at large Philip Mercer in The Lightning Stones. Du Brul’s been writing novels with Clive Cussler so Mercer was left to his own devices for the past few years. He returns with a fantastic story that truly had me wearing out the forward button on my Kindle as Mercer confronts non-stop action on his way to seek out the murderers of a close friend.

Along the way he romances a couple of ladies, solves the Amelia Earhart mystery, survives an Afghanistan firefight, and takes on a megalomaniacal Frenchman (but aren’t they all) bent on world destruction but this is Mercer so he handles all this with his usual aplomb. He’s ably assisted by his 80 year live in letch who provides just the right amount of comic relief courtesy of the greatest generation. I recommend the Mercer novels to anyone who loves a good series of thrillers. It was so good to have him back.

Speaking of old literary heroes, Jack Reacher also suddenly re-emerged on the Kindle, albeit for just a short story in Small Wars. Needless to say I rushed through that as soon as it showed up. Lee Child looks back briefly to Reacher’s Army career days and weaves a great short story which involves Reacher’s older brother and the incomparable Frances Neagley. A needed fix while awaiting the hopefully soon next Reacher novel.

Looking Back and Front

I wrote yesterday about an incident that happened early in my Army career that had a lot more impact than I realized at the time. People born after the fall of the Berlin Wall (and all too many who don’t have that excuse) don’t realize the day to day tensions of the cold war era. I kind of wandered into the Army after college, mainly because I wanted to see Europe and couldn’t afford it. It goes without saying that I found a real home there, spending more than a quarter century in the big green machine. One of the things the Army did back then for newly arrived soldiers in Europe was to send them to see the border with East Germany/Czechoslovakia (the legendary Iron Curtain) and some even to Berlin. This was used, I now realize, to educate young, naïve Soldiers (I certainly qualified in the naiveté department) on the seriousness of our chosen profession on that piece of dirt, then known as West Germany. I was lucky enough to make both trips and the message hit home.

The Iron Curtain

The first visit was to the Fulda Gap, the historic invasion route into Germany since time immemorial. The famous 11^th Armored Cavalry Regiment was responsible for the sector which had the massive Soviet army on the other side. We were given a tour of the border which had trenches, razor wire fences, and minefields cutting through the countryside. Some of the border passed directly through villages since the border and ensuing fortifications were the result of political versus military decisions.

The Border Looking Across a Minefield to an East German Guard Tower

Our guide brought us up the actual border and then became nervous when a truck full of East German border guards rushed to the scene. A couple dismounted and wound their way through the minefield until they were only a few yards away from us. The tension was palatable as our guide called back for a nearby quick reaction force to be ready. Evidently we were a tourist attraction for them because all they did was take pictures but the seriousness of the entire situation made a real impression on me. I returned fire with my own Kodak – hence the accompanying photos. I’ve often wondered what happened to the guy across the border when the Soviet Empire fell as hard as it did.

Trading Photos with the East Germans

The trip to Berlin was a dream come true. We were put on a train that came with sleeping berths which I thought was the coolest thing imaginable and as close as I ever got to an Orient Express experience. The trains were required to cross the stretch of East Germany needed to reach Berlin only at night so we wouldn’t gather any intel during daylight hours. We were stopped a couple times by Russian Army guards who boarded the train and repeatedly inspected us. This was my first face to face with the supposed Russian superman. I was left with an impression of an underfed, poorly clothed, bureaucrat with some historically bad teeth with the attendant bad breath.

Evidence of the Battle

Berlin was equally as fascinating as we were put up in an Army guest house that was established in the lakeside mansion of a former Nazi official. The following couple days were spent touring Berlin and it felt like I was in any large, bustling Western city. That all changed when they took us to the wall for our first glimpse into East Berlin. It was truly a tale of two cities as the Russians were still exacting their revenge on the people who did so much harm to them thirty years earlier. There were still whole blocks bombed out and there was a gray pallor on that far side of the wall that stood in stark contrast to the western side. On our final day we passed through Checkpoint Charlie and spent the afternoon wandering around East Berlin. We were required to wear our dress uniforms and not to photo anything even vaguely military. The initial impression of Russian revenge was further enhanced when I saw repeated evidence of the Battle of Berlin with many walls still bearing the bullet marks from that epic battle. Our guides said the Russians required that no repairs be made to remind Germans their penance had not ended.

The entire trip left me with a firm conviction in the superiority of what I had innocently donned the uniform to fight for. The disparity between the two halves of Berlin was compelling in pointing out the failure of communism on the most fundamental of levels. I realized, maybe for the first time in my life, just how blessed I had been to be born where I was. More importantly I realized at a bone deep level that true evil in very dangerous amounts still haunted the edges of our seemingly pristine world and would require sacrifice and vigilance to defend. It was also the first time I clearly remember feeling like I was engaged in something important. I liked the feeling and the course of my life was irrevocably changed.

On a decidedly more upbeat note my wife and I received notice that construction has finally started on our future winter home in Panama. It’s only two months later than promised which is not bad for that place. Yesterday we received an email with some pictures of the construction starting, which was even cooler. So a forward look into time is also warranted.

Site of our Future Condo (Where Crane is)

Overhead - Proximity to Beach if Fairly Cool

Piles Waiting to be Driven

And Let the Driving Commence

60’s Rehash

The Voices of Inappropriate Worth returned yesterday when we held a public hearing on some proposed changes. Some decided to go off their meds for the summer and were complaining loudly that they didn’t receive enough notice about the meeting they were attending. Since they were attending and obviously did get the word I was trying to follow the logic chain of their complaint – unsuccessfully.

Scene Outside the Meeting

My wife and associated Pana-Gals were wandering the seacoast of Rhode Island all day yesterday and well into the night. Left at loose ends I went with my signature move on what should have been date night – a movie. This week’s big release (for those of us who hate rap music) was the Man from UNCLE – a reboot of the 1960’s TV series that was launched when the Bond films exploded on popular culture.

I wasn’t a huge fan of the original TV series – I watched it – as any red blooded American boy was expected to do in the late 1960s. I always thought Illya Kuryakin was a lot cooler than the uber-suave Napoleon Solo which was out of step with what was pushed by Cold War sensibilities. I was excited to see Guy Ritchie at the helm as he always finds a way to inject some very sly humor into action flicks.

Maybe I was expecting too much. I walked out thinking, well that was okay but I wanted to be dazzled while I was only mildly amused. The more I thought on it I realized the problem was Kryptonian. Superman was so stiff and deadpan that he failed miserably at capturing the wit and charm of Solo. The Lone Ranger (Armie Hammer) on the other hand was superb as Kuryakin, talk about a comeback. Its problematic, however, when a buddy picture only has one of the buddies operational. Ritchie made a gallant effort at trying to recapture the 1960s setting and the story was interesting enough but with Cavill apparently mainlining liquid kryptonite the film falls short.  

Ritchie’s ode to the 1960s did dredge up some old cold war memories, which I’ve written about before. I think I’ll write about a life changing trip I took to East Berlin during the height of the Cold War tomorrow, if I can find some pictures. Finally, I ran across another video (yeah I know its kind of puerile but its good to have your heart strings yanked on every now and then) that I wanted to share.

Disassembling

It’s kind of cool having a house full of the newest edition of the PanaGals. As usual there is barely a pause in the constant conversation and laughter emanating from wherever they and my wife were located. Buddy has all but abandoned me, drawn to the social bonanza offered by gathered Panamanians. Dogs are pack animals and there’s always the chance (certainty) his brown eyed stares will result in a dropped treat. This ongoing high school reunion has removed me from my usual position directly in the cross hairs of my wife’s supervisory nature. Inexplicably I’ve not chosen to rebel. I’m even putting the seat down the toilet. Have I truly been tamed?

I returned from work to an empty house as, in a surprise of truly mythic proportions, my wife and the PanaGals were out shopping. I used the time to drag the old, replaced gas grill into the shade of the driveway for disassembly. Buddy accompanied me to yell at the occasional rabbit and defecate. I find an odd sense of peace taking things apart. I must have been a mechanic in a former life only to be reborn with no mechanical ability whatsoever. I still enjoy the disassembly process for some odd reason. Most of the bolts were still operational and I had to revert to brute force and ignorance on only a couple occasions. I was taking it apart and removing all the non-metal parts so I could recycle the metal. I took it way past the point I needed to, removing bolts that had been placed years ago by some Chinese worker I’m sure. What can I say, I’m weird. I had to do a detailed FOD walk on the driveway afterwards to insure I didn’t leave any of the bolts there to rupture tires.

The New Grill to Prove I did Get it Together
Some Smart Ass Commented on Yesterday's Post That There was No Proof I Succeeded

Part of my wife’s plan for the baby shower this weekend involves diapers. I’m not sure what her plan is to get them all out to California but I’m sure I will be involved. A former neighbor can’t make the shower and dropped by yesterday with a huge box of the tiny things. It’s sitting right by the front door and every time I walk by it I smile. It’s been over a quarter century now but I clearly remember the first time I went to the grocery store (commissary) and did not have to turn down the diaper aisle. It was a truly momentous event and now we’re preparing to send one of the contributors to those earlier trips on her own expedition down diaper alley, so cool.

The First of Many

A friend recently posted this video showing Panama City back near the time I was there as a young lieutenant. It was obviously taken from family films but provides a good view of what the Panama City was like at the time. I loved the city where so much of my future life was determined. It was a lot seedier than the current burgeoning megalopolis it has evolved into but I miss the old city. Today, whenever I return there, I’m hard-pressed to recognize familiar landmarks as the city continue to grow exponentially. I guess I’m starting to qualify as an old fart as I look back and fondly remember the way things used to be. 

Coming in Hot

I know, I took an entire day off from blog writing (you are certainly welcome). I made the mistake of remarking recently that the summer weather had been quintessential New England – clear, warm days and cool nights. It was the kind of summer I recalled and lionized from childhood memories. I should have kept my mouth shut. Some sticky weather that would do southern Georgia proud rolled in on Saturday night heralded by some momentous thunderstorms that had Buddy the Wonder Pooch seeking to burrow through solid concrete (again).

Wife and Mafioso at the Party - Bumblebee in the Background

We linked up with other members of the Worcester Chapter of the Panamanian Mafia for a Saturday afternoon barbecue in Eastern Massachusetts. It was an impressive house and strangely one that I had driven by hundreds of times when I used to work in that city. The heat drove everybody inside where we could marvel at the attire of the designated court jester of our organization. He was outfitted in a striped yellow shirt and loud yellow shorts. He proudly assumed the title of “bumblebee” we bequeathed upon him, although this did lead to several unfortunate stinger related jokes.

We met a very interesting Indian couple. They were both born in Uganda but were kicked out by Idi Amin during one of his nonsensical purges and eventually landed in the USA. The guy gave the bumblebee a run for his money in the joke department. My wife was fascinated by the wife because she let her hair go gray and still looked more than presentable. My wife thought this was an apt example because she is often mistaken for an Indian herself. She’s been involved in a years long argument with herself about whether to continue to color her hair or let it go gray (gramma prep has only intensified the argument). I’ve wisely avoided weighing in on the subject (for once) realizing there is no right answer; other than doing what makes her happy.

Bumblebee and his Long Suffering Wife - Ribald Spanish Speaker Behind

The group had planned on driving down to Providence, RI to see them set their river on fire but the aforementioned torrential rains put the kybosh on that. The host of the party is an electrical engineer and had set up his television with a sound system that I can only describe as otherworldly. We decided to watch a movie but before I could pick his brain how he set up his system the other members of the conclave decided it was time to return to Worcester. Since we were genuinely concerned about Buddy’s (Pendejo’s) capacity for destruction during thunderstorms we left. It’s probably just as well, if I had a sound system like that I might never leave couch potato position #1.

Buddy During Grill Assembly Operations

My wife finally availed herself of the tax free shopping weekend which Massachusetts does every year. She disappeared early on Sunday and regretfully returned only because we had to leave to pick up two of her high school friends flying in from Panama. I was charged with assembling the new grill we bought on Saturday. Due to the heat I moved the assembly line into the middle of the air conditioned kitchen. Since my wife was shopping, Buddy (my assistant) and I had the decisive votes needed. I put the Red Sox game on as they had won two straight scoring runs in double figures. It was therefore appropriate that they were behind 7-0 before I had reached step 4A. I blame them for putting the grill together backwards and having to re-do the whole damned thing.

Wife Greeting her Friends at the Airport

My wife attended a high school reunion last year in Panama and in the course of celebrating with her old buddies generally invited everyone to come visit her. To her surprise and enduring joy several groups took her up on the invitation. The first pair arrived last night to the very Panamanian weather. They were held up in US Customs for more than an hour which had us concerned for a while. We eventually got them home with my wife in serious “chat” mode the entire time. It was good to see her so obviously happy to be with a couple of her oldest friends.

High School Friends Together Again

I take it for granted that I can routinely see my high school friends while she’s denied this with her decision to hang around with me up here in the North. We sat down for a very late dinner due to their delay at the airport and the next door Mafioso invited us all over for a late night dessert. This gave the Mafioso’s husband a chance to demonstrate his fairly ribald facility with the Spanish language. A fun way to end the night and I went to bed hearing the still constant chatter of old friends reacquainting themselves late into the night. I’m so happy to see the light in my wife’s eyes their arrival has ignited.

Blog Reader Nest Commencing

A rather mundane yesterday despite being the Frist Friday of the Week and a particularly spectacular New England summer day. The Frist Friday crowd was reduced to just my excellent boss and myself which we somehow struggled through. There is some sort of construction on the major interstate passing through Worcester which has gridlocked Friday afternoon traffic. One of the good things about my job is knowing virtually every street in the city which allowed some serious cutbacks through the hilly back streets to reach Brew City (sacrifices must be made).

My Beautiful Date at Val's Last Night

My favorite Panamanian was back in our old neighborhood yesterday on some important business. We received word that construction has started on our beachfront condo in Panama so another payment was due. She went back to our old bank branch as they were familiar with the bank transfer process to the bank in Panama since they did it for the first payment. She stopped by to see a couple of our neighbors who reported the new house owners allow their children to use one of her old gardens as a bicycle track. After this startling news she had to get her hair done. I’m not sure I followed the logic but I’ve learned that my understanding is not an important factor. She did look fabulous, but she did before the hair appointment as well. We went out for dinner to Val’s again, where she’s hosting the baby shower for the Cali-Daughter next Saturday.

Wingman Hard at Work

Speaking of the Cali-Daughter; she and the Wingman reported arrival of the first of our baby shower gifts – a crib. The Wingman was hard at work assembling the future resting place for the First Blog Reader and the impending Mom was beaming. Seeing pictures of the nest construction starting was definitely the highlight of the day. The best part in reality is that less than seven days remain until the Cali-Daughter returns to the right coast, albeit for only a short time. Sufficient time though for the future Gramma to enjoy her journey into that realm.

Success!

We returned home and were shortly out in the back yard we share with the Mafiosos. We spent the next couple hours out there as the sun set with that couple exchanging stories and poking fun at each other. It was the perfect way to end what had already been a very good day.

My addiction to Matthew Scudder took another hit as not one but two pre-ordered novels showed up on my Kindle. I rampaged through the first in less than two days since it featured my old buddy - Scot Horvath. Code of Conduct by Brad Thor has to be the most intense thriller Thor has produced in the series and that is lofty praise indeed. Horvath is on a mission to the Congo when he stumbles upon a plan to eliminate 95% of the earth's population. The rest of the book is truly impossible to put down as the apocalyptic plan starts to unwind. Its rare that a book can capture the emotions of a roller-coaster ride but Thor has succeeded. This is definitely the most exciting book I've read in a very long time. I'm going to have to go back and read it again at a more leisurely pace because I'm sure I missed a lot of details with my headlong rush to see how it all turned out.