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Pre-Cruise Party Revisited as told
by Rustic 41 I thought I'd give it a
shot at writing the "Intro" for the Second Night Rustic Reunion as
you all are now sailing across the Caribbean. Although I wish that
Noreen and I could have joined you for the voyage, it was grand to get
together with all of you for the party and send off: Saturday, the 28th of
October, saw a number within our ranks descend on Fort Lauderdale,
Florida. Nine couples were to head off the following afternoon on a
7-day cruise with 3 stops in the Caribbean. But before boarding
ship, there was a need to party as several others had flown in to participate
in the "bon voyage." The site of revelry was
The Field, an Irish pub not far from the Wyndham Hotel where all had
gathered. The success of the evening could be measured, in part,
by the fact that we were asked a couple times to
quiet down. Given the premise that Irish pubs are
generally noted for rowdiness, Wayne Baker (aka "The Instigator"),
and a few others, accepted the requests to tone it down as a badge of honor. Stephanie, a delightful
lass from County Armaugh in the old country who was our waitress, took it all
in stride as the Guinness flowed. Field grade officers - our leaders
from years ago - sought refuge on the porch apart from one table in
particular. It was established the following morning that
once braid is attached to the wheel cap signifying attainment of field grade,
partial lobotomies are made so that any memory of those men having once been
- or acting like - lieutenants and captains is forever erased. And for
those of us who flew in combat as lieutenants, the saying holds: "Once a
lieutenant, always a lieutenant!" Fortunately, all former
lieutenants and captains (their rank when flying combat) present had not
succumbed to such prior medical treatment and well remembered their days
of pranks, drinking, low flying (for most present) and partying.
The rumor persists that some lieutenants flying missions over Cambodia at the
time were issued highly classified telescopic lenses for their cameras in
order to take such close up pictures from some altitude which a few of
us have. Only a few selected captains were also cleared to use this
equipment. Of course, Marcy Roberds
maintained her status as the junior officers' heroine by reciting the
complaints that once emanated from Independence, Missouri, and then, also
some years ago, from Kansas City. She held the group spell
bound - once again - as she related how her husband, the Maj
(aka "Major Major" and "The Major Squared"), had
tied the low altitude record for that state when he was but a lieutenant, a
fact not readily recalled by him. It would have been a wonderful thing
had some of us many years ago only known of such a dire lack of discipline
once exhibited by those placed in leadership positions. As a
matter of note, the low altitude record may only be broken by landing or
crashing. There is apparently a
swath of ground that has remained forever scorched near Independence due to
an F-102's afterburner having passed close over (or was it between?)the corn
stalks. After the occurrence, one man in Independence was said to have
opened a glass factory in the hopes that further low level passes would spur
on his new window replacement business. The perpetrator,
however, was apparently promoted and the man's business fell on
hard times as no other windows fell prey to the Air Defense Command.
Growth of corn throughout the area was stunted for several
years, though. In Missouri, the sound and sight of the
F-102 in question was known as "shock and awe," a
term brought into use decades later by our military. Jim Hetherington and his
lovely wife, June, joined the group after a long trip from Boise, Idaho.
Jim related that after 20 years of their having gotten up at oh
dark thirty, they had sold their hot air balloon to a group comprised of one
American and two others from Belgium. Sadly, a close friend of theirs,
a B-24 pilot who saw action in WWII, had recently passed away. I
was fortunate to have met the man when visiting with them a couple years
ago. He is but another American hero who served our country
well. Larry and Pat Driskill
made it in from Lubbock, Texas. Pat, unbeknownst to her, has been
selected as the resident Night Rustic psychologist. As I departed
Sunday however, negotiations were in limbo with her as to billing as it
was very obvious from Saturday night's pub crawl that psych evaluations
were in order - and long overdue - for more than a few. We plan to
lobby Larry for deep discounts as many were deemed to be in need of permanent
help. Merle and Margaret Shields
came from Sacramento, California, and were a welcome addition although they
arrived too late to partake of the fun at The Field. They joined us all
for breakfast Sunday morning and told of the birth of their first
grandchild, a beautiful girl. Merle remains active in their real
estate endeavors. Jack and Judy Strickland
made their way across the state from Orlando, Florida, and were accompanied
by their son, Keith, whose friend, Kate, also joined the
breakfast crew on Sunday morning as the yacht on which she is employed was
docked in Fort Lauderdale. Judy continues her work at Disney World and
hopes to sing in the choir at Epcot Center. Jack is with Lockheed after
having retired from the Air Force. Mick and Mary Gibbar flew
in from their home just outside Scott AFB, Illinois, where Mick is employed
by the US government. Mary is up for honors as grandmother of the
year as she and Mick are hosting one of their daughters and her six
children ranging in age from three months to 13. That daughter's
husband is now attached to the US Embassy in Ethiopia and has
been stationed since this past June in Addis Ababa. Rumor has it
that Mick now has to work late more than ever before at the office
and has applied for a number of TDYs. My hat's off to both Mick
and Mary as Noreen and I are still adjusting to having our youngest at age 20
return to live with us for a few months. The trail of dirty dishes and
lights left on always lends a clue to where she's been. Redeye flew down from his
home in Northern Virginia where he is employed by the Transportation Security
Administration as a Crisis Management Specialist. There was
some thought given to asking for his expertise to hold down the
"noise crisis" at the pub; but then he, too, was a
participant. He departed Sunday after breakfast for South Beach.
He owes me a tube of tooth paste as the screener at the airport on my
departure did not find my having squeezed out toothpaste from my large tube
down to the 3 ounce point to have been satisfactory. I then
demonstrated breathing on him in an effort to salvage my tooth
paste and, fortunately, found that the screener did have a belated sense of
humor. He didn't relinquish my toothpaste, though. Slapper
and Maggee arrived from their 25 acre farm in Warrensburg,
Missouri. They now have one granddaughter, age one and a half, who is
with one of their two sons and his wife in Brunswick, Maine, where he is
stationed in the Navy. Their two daughters, Julie and Mary, have both
recently married and their other son is doing well as he is also an
officer in the Navy. Why is it that so many from the Midwest elect
to join the Navy? Zeke, the highly regarded
grand planner of all festivities, and his wife Sue, drove in from Largo,
Florida. While all others tasted the range of beer available at
the pub, Zeke was obviously promoting the new Irish martini. I could
only assume that it was made from potato based vodka in keeping with
Irish norms. Their youngest daughter, Dawn, has also been recently
married. Kudos once again to Zeke who has demonstrated for all his
prowess in planning and execution - all flawless. A great job on
t-shirts, too. Stump and his wife,
Leslie, made it in from southern Colorado for the send off.
Leslie was the self-appointed designated driver and made a number
of trips from the pub to the hotel to be sure that all made it to the
party. Stump was at his best as the group gathered round, no doubt
to muffle the fervor. We found a spot for him to be seated for dinner
that was not acoustically challenged. I was told that Stump left
the next morning with a little hangover and sore vocal chords. While at the pub, I did my
best to look for a recording of "Okie from Dublin" but none could
be found although all recall "Okie from Muskogie" as we
drank to it some 35 years ago. By then, our dinner waitress Emily, a lass
from Dublin, was inquiring as to what an Okie was. I told her that
folks from the Great State of Oklahoma had to speak loudly as they
didn't live close to one another. She left thoroughly confused. Thanks to Zeke and Stump
for picking up the bar tab on the porch. Had I only known that my
drinks were going to be paid for by others, I could have drunk more. As
the old saying goes, if you're not drinking at an open bar, you're losing
money. And I hate to lose money. Curly and Evelyn Jones
made it to the festivities and cruise from their homes in Albuquerque, New
Mexico, and Pagosa Springs, Colorado. Of course, these days Curly
resembles his nickname about as well as Stump could be called
"Mute." Evelyn enjoys their horses and, together with
the Bakers, opened the suggestion box for a subsequent reunion in their area
of the country. A lively educational
discussion ensued between Leslie, Evelyn and Slapper about the
advantages of cutting and bailing your own hay and the pricing of it.
Having owned a thoroughbred horse a few years ago for one of our daughters, I
ventured that had the West been settled with thoroughbreds, we would have
only gotten as far as Kentucky as they tend to go lame easily. I
tried to find someone interested in fishing to no avail. Bailing hay
won out. Somewhat ironically,
Curly, as a Ph.D., was seated at the opposite end of the table from our other
resident source of knowledge (note I did not say wisdom), the Maj, who
also has a Ph.D. Based on comments made at the breakfast on Sunday
morning, there will also be a quiz at the next reunion as to the
requirements for Professor Emeritus status at James Madison University. A comment was offered that
one table - the Hetheringtons, Gibbars, Driskills and Stricklands -
had intelligence while the other table (comprised of Redeye, Over, Stump,
Slapper, the Maj, Curly and Zeke) represented "artificial
intelligence." Wives who were present were obviously not the
target of such good natured ridicule. There were a number of not
so subtle verbal responses offered to counter that thought. The meal from a good
hearty Irish menu was followed by a visit from the Queen of Ireland,
Rosemary, who did indeed know how to play the fiddle with the best of
them. It became apparent that he - not she - had chosen his best dress
- and I do mean dress - for the occasion at the behest of the rest
of the band so as to be ready for Halloween. As we parted, the pub
was in fine shape and none the worse for wear. Our visit did give
rise to the old proverb as to why God invented alcohol - that is, so the
Irish (and others so inclined, including us) will not rule the
world. A return to the hotel saw
some turn in after a long day's travel while a few - Zeke, Slapper, Stump,
Redeye, Over, with Mick on the early shift and Jack as his
replacement - sought to identify all the world's problems: the airline
industry, as in military training versus general aviation and other
associated issues; war and peace; investments; status of the country; our
educational system and more. As midnight passed, it was noted that
while this astute group of profound minds was highly adept at identifying
such weighty issues of the day, no one amongst them could solve any of these
problems. Thus, Stump once again succeeded in turning up the party
rheostat before his and Leslie's early AM departure on Sunday. Fortunately, an hour was
gained Sunday at 2 AM with the clock's being turned back to regain Standard
Time, thus adding to much needed sleep. After an enjoyable
breakfast and coffee Sunday morning, the shuttle buses and those with cars
headed for the docks and a wonderful voyage. Don Mercer |
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