Recent polls show that something like 85% of Americans believe our country is headed in the wrong direction. Put me in that camp. Republican President Bush’s approval numbers have dropped below 30% and those that believe the Democratic Congress is doing a good job have fallen below 10%. In the last two years, gas prices have doubled, food prices have skyrocketed, retirement plans have been reduced in value by 20 % and the value of housing is down at least 15%. The stock market has lost 2000 points. Neither of the political parties has served us well, and neither appears to have a handle on how to address the problems America is facing. The presidential candidates do not inspire confidence. America is falling into despair because neither party seems to know what we want. Fortunately I do.
A military we can be proud of. OK. We have that.
A hardheaded, no nonsense, foreign policy that makes it clear that the U.S. can be your best friend or worst enemy. In the future, when and if we go to war, it needs to be as a country, not a political party.
An economic policy that makes our currency strong. The dollar has fallen to the same level as the Canadian “loony” for goodness sake.
A domestic policy that doesn’t include bailouts. Yes, we must take care of Americans who are not able to help themselves. But we should be reducing reliance on government and increasing self reliance. John Smith said, “He that shall not worke shall not eate.” It was a solid prescription for success in 1608 and will be just as successful in 2008.
A space program with a plan. What in the world is going on at NASA? There wasn’t a person alive watching the moon landings in 1969 who did not anticipate spending spring break on Mars by 2000. Let’s get there. The space program is the nursery of high tech. Also the way to stop asteroids before they stop us.
Politicians who have at least the average morality of say, a Russian gangster. That is, if a person is a thief, a wife beater or wife cheater, a drunk, a dope addict, an out of control gambler, or financially irresponsible, why is he or she entrusted with the government?
Cheap energy. Americans like big houses, big cars, big companies, and big ideas because we are big people. Nothing wrong with that. It’s our culture. But they all require cheap energy. Should we drill for oil in Alaska or the Atlantic? How about the Pacific? Nuclear? Wind? Geothermal? Bio-fuels? Coal? Natural gas? Fuel cells? Hell, yes, all of the above. What we are doing now is like starving to death inside a McDonald’s because the French fries are too greasy. Let’s start drilling!
Competence. Cranes inspected by the government shouldn’t fall down a week later. Neither should freeway overpasses. Airplanes should be inspected on a regular basis, not all the same day shutting down the air transportation system. Government regulated banks shouldn’t fail. The IRS should be able to answer questions about taxes. Social security should be secure.
Immigration policy that makes sense, somewhere between putting the southern border at Guatemala and rounding up half the country’s workforce and deporting it. If you are here and working, we can make you legal. If you are a criminal you are going to have to leave. Today. And, yes, put up a fence.
Freedom, free enterprise and capitalism. These are what made America successful in the past; they will do so again.
There you have it. Why is that so difficult? Why can’t the Republicans and Democrats put the train back on the track? Why can’t they even talk to each other? I know what you are thinking. Perhaps we need a new political party. One which understands that talking about problems isn’t the same as solving them. It is time to launch the New Whig Party. It’s too late for ’08. But the way things are going, we’re going to walk into the White House in 2012. Remember, you heard it here first. You know I’m right.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
PB27 Happy New Year
For me, and I suspect most teachers, June 2 (or whatever the day is after graduation) is New Year’s Day. This is the time of the year for “review”, “reflection”, and “resolutions”. A time to take stock of one’s life. I have been writing this column for a year now; the first column appeared in the June 21, 2007 “Sentinel”. The subject was “Finishing last for a great cause.” In it I resolved (remember June is for resolutions) to not embarrass myself in the annual Kayla5K run. I also encouraged more of you to participate. Last Saturday I completed my 5th Kayla run with an astounding time (for me) amidst a record breaking turnout. Good job, Granville. (And “Good job, Haven, too”, I might add.)
Note: For the person logging the times, if you are still at the high school waiting for me to cross the finish line, you can go home. I threw that little computer tag in the duck pond just north of the school. I have resolved for the 08-09 academic year that I will quit judging myself against others; from now on it is just me against me.
Many of my readers have asked me how I came to be the popular author of a semi regular newspaper column. It happened like this: One Friday night after our weekly trip to dine with friends at Brew’s (not only a good place to eat but a good place to BE), my loving wife of some 25 years said, “We need to talk”. This is normally not a good sign. She explained that in the course of the evening, I had “dominated the conversation”, repeated myself by “telling the same stupid stories I had told before”, and insisted that “you know I’m right.” For a few minutes I couldn’t figure out what she was trying to get at. Then it hit me. The wife, in her own sweet way, was trying to say that I needed to acquire a larger audience. So I went to Chuck Peterson and offered to write a column from time to time for the Sentinel as a public service. (This was after he explained that he wouldn’t pay.)
Chuck appeared to be delighted to have me on the staff. But before I began, I needed to establish some ground rules. First, I resolved to separate the column from my “day job”. I didn’t want to write about education and I didn’t want my readers (both of them) to think that I inflict my philosophy, experiences, point of view, historical perspective, and political ramblings on my students. That would be crazy. What I teach is precisely what the school board has approved and the state of Ohio requires. (And, if I may say so, I think I am a good teacher. I NEVER deviate from the lesson plan in the classroom). Secondly, I resolved to take this endeavor seriously. I wanted to avoid humorous content. It is very difficult to write humor, and while I think I am funny, hardly anyone else does. Finally, I decided to avoid controversy. We have enough controversy in our country and in our town. I am the type of person that likes to bring people together. I hope that you have found the ideas you have been exposed to in this column are ones we can all agree upon. It is time for us to come together as a village, as a country, and, I sincerely hope, as a world.
Whether I have been successful or not, I will leave to you, the readers. But maybe those of you who are not in education, should do what I am doing. Take a moment for reflection and set some new goals. Get fit. The Kayla 5K will be here before you know it. If you didn’t get out this year, I’ll be looking for you next June. Get green. Don’t drive when you can ride your bike (wear your helmet!) or walk. My goal is 100 carless trips to school next year. Get involved. Vote! Run for office. I’m going to. Participatory democracy requires participation. And Happy New Year. You know I’m right.
Note: For the person logging the times, if you are still at the high school waiting for me to cross the finish line, you can go home. I threw that little computer tag in the duck pond just north of the school. I have resolved for the 08-09 academic year that I will quit judging myself against others; from now on it is just me against me.
Many of my readers have asked me how I came to be the popular author of a semi regular newspaper column. It happened like this: One Friday night after our weekly trip to dine with friends at Brew’s (not only a good place to eat but a good place to BE), my loving wife of some 25 years said, “We need to talk”. This is normally not a good sign. She explained that in the course of the evening, I had “dominated the conversation”, repeated myself by “telling the same stupid stories I had told before”, and insisted that “you know I’m right.” For a few minutes I couldn’t figure out what she was trying to get at. Then it hit me. The wife, in her own sweet way, was trying to say that I needed to acquire a larger audience. So I went to Chuck Peterson and offered to write a column from time to time for the Sentinel as a public service. (This was after he explained that he wouldn’t pay.)
Chuck appeared to be delighted to have me on the staff. But before I began, I needed to establish some ground rules. First, I resolved to separate the column from my “day job”. I didn’t want to write about education and I didn’t want my readers (both of them) to think that I inflict my philosophy, experiences, point of view, historical perspective, and political ramblings on my students. That would be crazy. What I teach is precisely what the school board has approved and the state of Ohio requires. (And, if I may say so, I think I am a good teacher. I NEVER deviate from the lesson plan in the classroom). Secondly, I resolved to take this endeavor seriously. I wanted to avoid humorous content. It is very difficult to write humor, and while I think I am funny, hardly anyone else does. Finally, I decided to avoid controversy. We have enough controversy in our country and in our town. I am the type of person that likes to bring people together. I hope that you have found the ideas you have been exposed to in this column are ones we can all agree upon. It is time for us to come together as a village, as a country, and, I sincerely hope, as a world.
Whether I have been successful or not, I will leave to you, the readers. But maybe those of you who are not in education, should do what I am doing. Take a moment for reflection and set some new goals. Get fit. The Kayla 5K will be here before you know it. If you didn’t get out this year, I’ll be looking for you next June. Get green. Don’t drive when you can ride your bike (wear your helmet!) or walk. My goal is 100 carless trips to school next year. Get involved. Vote! Run for office. I’m going to. Participatory democracy requires participation. And Happy New Year. You know I’m right.
PB26 The End of the Year
This has been, far and away, my best year of teaching. This is not surprising as every year I have taught school has been better than the year before. Sort of like being married to my loving wife of some 25 years. I have informed the board, however, that I will not be teaching forever. I am going to retire at the end of the 2028-2029 school year. So the class of 2029, which of course has not been born yet, will be my last. I am not going to change my mind and I am going to be difficult to replace so the board may want to start looking around now. Don’t say you haven’t been warned.
Although this was a great year, it has ended on a very sour note. I will start next year without three of my esteemed colleagues, individuals I have come to rely upon and to whom I owe a great deal. Fortunately they are all moving on to great situations but that doesn’t help me does it? First, Sonja Miller, an extraordinary English teacher. Although we have a very strong English department, Sonja brought a certain je ne sais quoi that made it even better. (Language teachers note my inclusion of a little French lingo.) Plus Sonja likes my column. That makes three fans. Then Abbey Walls, a guidance person. NO ONE cares more about kids. We had some stressful times this year and she was always right where she could do the most good. I am old. She is wise. I shall miss her. At the district office, Eydie Schilling, is also moving on. Every time I got a great idea, and that happened to me a lot, Eydie was supportive, encouraging, and positive. She knows how to do all the paper work and stuff and was more than willing to pitch in and help. (Now I have spent my life around civil servants, and I love them to death, especially MLWOS25yrs, but “more than willing to pitch in and help” doesn’t often come up in the conversation.) I’ll miss her, too.
The biggest blow was finding out Chuck Dilbone had resigned as principal. I have had lots of bosses. I was stationed at 10 major commands in the military and given the rotation system, had an average of two skippers at each for a total of 20. All were professional. Some were legends. They all had executive officers, another 20. The military is all about leadership; we teach it, practice it and live it. (When the military adopted Total Quality Management from the business world, it was changed it to “Total Quality Leadership”.) Still, leadership is easier in the military than it is in the front office at Granville High. A military leader answers only to his boss in the chain of command. None of those military guys were better than Mr. Dilbone because a principal must answer to the board, the parents, the teachers and, in many ways, the kids. Chuck Dilbone does it as well as it can be done. The only criticisms I heard about Chuck were from teachers who said he favored parents and parents who said he favored teachers. They were both right but when it really matters, he always comes down on the side of the kids. I came to work at GHS when I was 54.9 years old. (Math teachers note the metric system.) I really didn’t think anyone could teach me much about leadership (or anything else). I was wrong. Chuck was always there when I needed him and not when I didn’t, the definition of a perfect leader. He taught me a lot. I am a much better teacher and a better person for it. (I don’t think Chuck likes my column, but I’m happy if he likes my teaching.)
Even though we will take some hits, we have a great school and we will muddle through next year. Given Granville Schools reputation for excellence, there will be many capable candidates to choose from to replace our departed comrades. But you new hires better be on your game. You are following the best of the best. You know I’m right.
Although this was a great year, it has ended on a very sour note. I will start next year without three of my esteemed colleagues, individuals I have come to rely upon and to whom I owe a great deal. Fortunately they are all moving on to great situations but that doesn’t help me does it? First, Sonja Miller, an extraordinary English teacher. Although we have a very strong English department, Sonja brought a certain je ne sais quoi that made it even better. (Language teachers note my inclusion of a little French lingo.) Plus Sonja likes my column. That makes three fans. Then Abbey Walls, a guidance person. NO ONE cares more about kids. We had some stressful times this year and she was always right where she could do the most good. I am old. She is wise. I shall miss her. At the district office, Eydie Schilling, is also moving on. Every time I got a great idea, and that happened to me a lot, Eydie was supportive, encouraging, and positive. She knows how to do all the paper work and stuff and was more than willing to pitch in and help. (Now I have spent my life around civil servants, and I love them to death, especially MLWOS25yrs, but “more than willing to pitch in and help” doesn’t often come up in the conversation.) I’ll miss her, too.
The biggest blow was finding out Chuck Dilbone had resigned as principal. I have had lots of bosses. I was stationed at 10 major commands in the military and given the rotation system, had an average of two skippers at each for a total of 20. All were professional. Some were legends. They all had executive officers, another 20. The military is all about leadership; we teach it, practice it and live it. (When the military adopted Total Quality Management from the business world, it was changed it to “Total Quality Leadership”.) Still, leadership is easier in the military than it is in the front office at Granville High. A military leader answers only to his boss in the chain of command. None of those military guys were better than Mr. Dilbone because a principal must answer to the board, the parents, the teachers and, in many ways, the kids. Chuck Dilbone does it as well as it can be done. The only criticisms I heard about Chuck were from teachers who said he favored parents and parents who said he favored teachers. They were both right but when it really matters, he always comes down on the side of the kids. I came to work at GHS when I was 54.9 years old. (Math teachers note the metric system.) I really didn’t think anyone could teach me much about leadership (or anything else). I was wrong. Chuck was always there when I needed him and not when I didn’t, the definition of a perfect leader. He taught me a lot. I am a much better teacher and a better person for it. (I don’t think Chuck likes my column, but I’m happy if he likes my teaching.)
Even though we will take some hits, we have a great school and we will muddle through next year. Given Granville Schools reputation for excellence, there will be many capable candidates to choose from to replace our departed comrades. But you new hires better be on your game. You are following the best of the best. You know I’m right.
PB25
As my potential post teaching political career gathers momentum (big mo), I am often asked if I am a Republican or Democrat. I have been both; I am neither at the moment. I believe that both parties have lost touch with the real America. Look at the candidates, one of whom will surely be president. Barack Obama is certainly an interesting candidate. But he campaigns by bowling. Did you see him bowl? Pathetic. Hillary Clinton campaigns by drinking a shot and a beer. What message does THAT send to our young people? And John S. McCain. A true American hero but I don’t know that he is right for the presidency. I have great respect for military pilots but he’s married to a rich woman. Let’s get someone in there who needs a job.
I think we need a new party and fresh leadership. What Americans want is not an amateur bowler or worse, an amateur drinker. We don’t need a president who is married to a brewery heiress. Americans want only one thing; good government. Such as
Military: A military we can be proud of. Ok, we have that.
Immigration: We don’t even know who lives here. Why isn’t our government capable of building a simple fence? Critics say it won’t work. Of course it will work. All you have to do is taser the people who come across without permission. And we don’t even know who lives in our country. Let’s take a survey. If you are in this country illegally but are behaving yourself, you fill out the paperwork, pay your fine, and welcome to America. If you are a criminal, you go home. How hard is that?
Government services: Make ‘em work. Once a government inspector inspects a bridge, it shouldn’t fall down. Airliners shouldn’t have out of spec wiring. Construction cranes shouldn’t topple over. Hurricane relief ought to arrive on time.
I think we need a new party and fresh leadership. What Americans want is not an amateur bowler or worse, an amateur drinker. We don’t need a president who is married to a brewery heiress. Americans want only one thing; good government. Such as
Military: A military we can be proud of. Ok, we have that.
Immigration: We don’t even know who lives here. Why isn’t our government capable of building a simple fence? Critics say it won’t work. Of course it will work. All you have to do is taser the people who come across without permission. And we don’t even know who lives in our country. Let’s take a survey. If you are in this country illegally but are behaving yourself, you fill out the paperwork, pay your fine, and welcome to America. If you are a criminal, you go home. How hard is that?
Government services: Make ‘em work. Once a government inspector inspects a bridge, it shouldn’t fall down. Airliners shouldn’t have out of spec wiring. Construction cranes shouldn’t topple over. Hurricane relief ought to arrive on time.
PB21 Hat in the Ring
In my last column, I omitted a key phrase, which I need to correct immediately. In speaking of a potential post teaching political career, I stated that “I was struck by what a remarkably clean life I have led.” That sentence should have been followed by “for an ex-sailor”. Even so, the groundswell of support for my participation in the political process continues to grow. Since that column was published an additional three citizens have come forward suggesting it is time for me to offer myself as a candidate. That is an increase of over 100%, and one that I really don’t think I can ignore.
In that light, I have concluded that it is necessary to put myself, my family, and my friends through the sort of hell that modern campaigning has become. I owe that to my country and my community. But I want to assure my loyal readers (both of you) that I have no desire for self aggrandizement. I am only interested in serving man-(and woman) kind.
I won’t run on my war record. I want to state categorically that I have never been shot at, or shot at anyone else. I have to get that out right now. I am not proud of that fact, but it is true. I was in the military for nearly 30 years during which I was paid by the taxpayers every two weeks, and yet I never killed a single communist. This is not a very good return on investment for our citizens. All of my war stories are “supply war stories”. You know, like “the massive food poisoning incident”, the admiral’s lost shorts in the ship’s laundry caper”, and “the failure to balance out the cash at midnight crisis”. While fascinating, they will not stand up to the gripping tale of the Bosnian sniper attack on you know who.
I have also reviewed the sermons delivered by my spiritual advisors, Karen and Thom, over the past several years. I have found nothing controversial what-so-ever (other than the usual silliness like “love they neighbor”, “thou shall not kill”, or “the meek shall inherit the earth”). If my pastors did say anything controversial, I was either a. not there, b. “zoned out”, or c. “staring out into space”. I think Karen and Thom will back me up on that one. And I will disown ALL my grandparents AND Blackie before I will disown Karen and Thom.
There has also been some cheap shots from my detractors (yes, I have them) suggesting that a vote for me would be a “twofer”. The implication is that my loving wife of some 25 years tells me what to do and therefore I can’t think for myself. This is a lie. While MLWOS25yrs does tell me what to do, I don’t listen. I am either, a. not there, b. zoned out, or c. staring out into space. That doesn’t mean that she won’t play a meaningful role in the conduct of whatever political office I am elected to fill. She will have input into those issues that are important to her and the nation such as remodeling, fashion, and shopping.
It is also important to clear the air about my middle name. I don’t use it. I use my middle initial “R” on official correspondence. It’s not that I am ashamed of it. My parents gave me my name and they must have had good reason to do so. I just don’t think it should become a campaign issue. I know the rumor is out there that the R stands for “Redneck”. It does not. And I think that those spreading that rumor should be barbequed, run over by a pick up truck and spit on with tobacco juice.
The only question remaining is what office is most in need of my attention. I will leave that up to you, the citizens. As a veteran high school teacher, there are really no jobs I am not fully equipped to handle. But if I were on the city council, and was unsure how to handle the growing deer problem, I would not be resting on my laurels. You know I’m right.
In that light, I have concluded that it is necessary to put myself, my family, and my friends through the sort of hell that modern campaigning has become. I owe that to my country and my community. But I want to assure my loyal readers (both of you) that I have no desire for self aggrandizement. I am only interested in serving man-(and woman) kind.
I won’t run on my war record. I want to state categorically that I have never been shot at, or shot at anyone else. I have to get that out right now. I am not proud of that fact, but it is true. I was in the military for nearly 30 years during which I was paid by the taxpayers every two weeks, and yet I never killed a single communist. This is not a very good return on investment for our citizens. All of my war stories are “supply war stories”. You know, like “the massive food poisoning incident”, the admiral’s lost shorts in the ship’s laundry caper”, and “the failure to balance out the cash at midnight crisis”. While fascinating, they will not stand up to the gripping tale of the Bosnian sniper attack on you know who.
I have also reviewed the sermons delivered by my spiritual advisors, Karen and Thom, over the past several years. I have found nothing controversial what-so-ever (other than the usual silliness like “love they neighbor”, “thou shall not kill”, or “the meek shall inherit the earth”). If my pastors did say anything controversial, I was either a. not there, b. “zoned out”, or c. “staring out into space”. I think Karen and Thom will back me up on that one. And I will disown ALL my grandparents AND Blackie before I will disown Karen and Thom.
There has also been some cheap shots from my detractors (yes, I have them) suggesting that a vote for me would be a “twofer”. The implication is that my loving wife of some 25 years tells me what to do and therefore I can’t think for myself. This is a lie. While MLWOS25yrs does tell me what to do, I don’t listen. I am either, a. not there, b. zoned out, or c. staring out into space. That doesn’t mean that she won’t play a meaningful role in the conduct of whatever political office I am elected to fill. She will have input into those issues that are important to her and the nation such as remodeling, fashion, and shopping.
It is also important to clear the air about my middle name. I don’t use it. I use my middle initial “R” on official correspondence. It’s not that I am ashamed of it. My parents gave me my name and they must have had good reason to do so. I just don’t think it should become a campaign issue. I know the rumor is out there that the R stands for “Redneck”. It does not. And I think that those spreading that rumor should be barbequed, run over by a pick up truck and spit on with tobacco juice.
The only question remaining is what office is most in need of my attention. I will leave that up to you, the citizens. As a veteran high school teacher, there are really no jobs I am not fully equipped to handle. But if I were on the city council, and was unsure how to handle the growing deer problem, I would not be resting on my laurels. You know I’m right.
PB20 Crazy Charlie, Part 2
Recently several of my students have urged me to run for political office. But before I throw my hat into the ring, I want to give it some careful consideration. I am well aware that every aspect of my personal and professional life will be subjected to relentless scrutiny. In looking back over the years, I was struck by what a remarkably clean life I have led. There is only one part of my past that I regret and really can’t explain. I was once a volunteer for an environmentalist lobbying group. I think it is wise to get my story out there before it becomes fodder for the tabloids. While I don’t remember how I got involved, I do remember why I dropped my association with the group forever.
We were on a deployment to the Mediterranean aboard U.S.S. Dwight D. Eisenhower (Ike). We were approaching Majorca, one of the Balearic Islands off the coast of Spain, for some well-earned liberty. I was sitting in my office drinking coffee, the supply officer’s station for “sea and anchor detail”. (Supply officers generally don’t get too involved in actual ship handling evolutions.) As I looked up at the close circuit TV monitoring our approach to port, the view switched to another ship approaching at a high rate of speed from the starboard quarter. It was called the Sea Grass or something like that, a ship operated by the environmentalist group to which I belonged. Originally a group that had championed saving whales, it had branched out into condemning the U.S. government for utilizing nuclear power. Ike was nuclear powered. The Sea Grass was intent on launching Zodiac boats loaded with red paint, and attacking our ship. The idea was to video tape the marking of our ship with red paint to simulate blood and give the video to local TV stations. What the Sea Grass hadn’t counted on was Crazy Charlie, Ike’s new overzealous, unrestrained, totally dedicated weapons officer.
Suddenly the Captain’s voice was heard on the ship’s loud speaker system; “Motor Vessel Sea Grass, you are approaching a United States warship. Change course now!” The Sea Grass kept coming. Next we heard, “Repel boarders, repel boarders”. I broke out in a cold sweat when I saw the motley members of Charlie’s newly recruited security force man the 50 caliber machine guns which suddenly sprouted around the ship. (When the call came to “Repel Boarders”, those sailors designated for the security force donned flak jackets, pulled the machine guns out of the lockers, and prepared to defeat the enemy.) There was no doubt in my military mind that the blood of a bunch of misguided, but basically decent environmentalists, for whom I had recently collected donations, was about to be shed. A 50 cal is a devastating weapon capable of shredding any substance made by man other than tank armor. The thin skin of the Sea Grass would provide no protection whatsoever. Oblivious of its imminent demise, it continued to approach. I could clearly see two Zodiac boats lowered into the water with cans of red paint. There was a person on the bridge of the Sea Grass filming the action with one of those big old video cameras. The Zodiacs headed straight for us.
Just when I thought the shooting was about to commence, the security force dropped the 50 cals and took up charged 2 ½ inch fire hoses. The stream from the hoses swamped the Zodiacs and knocked the paint into the water along with the video camera held by the hapless tree (whale?) hugger. Next the water stream was directed down the stack of the Sea Grass. The peace now crowd withdrew in defeat. Later the Spanish government impounded the Sea Grass for the duration of our visit in Spanish waters.
At that moment I changed my mind about the environmentalist movement and Crazy Charlie. He was no longer Crazy Charlie; just Charlie. Not only was he not crazy, he was one of the shrewdest individuals I ever met. I wonder where he is now. Charlie is probably the one who should run for office. You know I’m right.
We were on a deployment to the Mediterranean aboard U.S.S. Dwight D. Eisenhower (Ike). We were approaching Majorca, one of the Balearic Islands off the coast of Spain, for some well-earned liberty. I was sitting in my office drinking coffee, the supply officer’s station for “sea and anchor detail”. (Supply officers generally don’t get too involved in actual ship handling evolutions.) As I looked up at the close circuit TV monitoring our approach to port, the view switched to another ship approaching at a high rate of speed from the starboard quarter. It was called the Sea Grass or something like that, a ship operated by the environmentalist group to which I belonged. Originally a group that had championed saving whales, it had branched out into condemning the U.S. government for utilizing nuclear power. Ike was nuclear powered. The Sea Grass was intent on launching Zodiac boats loaded with red paint, and attacking our ship. The idea was to video tape the marking of our ship with red paint to simulate blood and give the video to local TV stations. What the Sea Grass hadn’t counted on was Crazy Charlie, Ike’s new overzealous, unrestrained, totally dedicated weapons officer.
Suddenly the Captain’s voice was heard on the ship’s loud speaker system; “Motor Vessel Sea Grass, you are approaching a United States warship. Change course now!” The Sea Grass kept coming. Next we heard, “Repel boarders, repel boarders”. I broke out in a cold sweat when I saw the motley members of Charlie’s newly recruited security force man the 50 caliber machine guns which suddenly sprouted around the ship. (When the call came to “Repel Boarders”, those sailors designated for the security force donned flak jackets, pulled the machine guns out of the lockers, and prepared to defeat the enemy.) There was no doubt in my military mind that the blood of a bunch of misguided, but basically decent environmentalists, for whom I had recently collected donations, was about to be shed. A 50 cal is a devastating weapon capable of shredding any substance made by man other than tank armor. The thin skin of the Sea Grass would provide no protection whatsoever. Oblivious of its imminent demise, it continued to approach. I could clearly see two Zodiac boats lowered into the water with cans of red paint. There was a person on the bridge of the Sea Grass filming the action with one of those big old video cameras. The Zodiacs headed straight for us.
Just when I thought the shooting was about to commence, the security force dropped the 50 cals and took up charged 2 ½ inch fire hoses. The stream from the hoses swamped the Zodiacs and knocked the paint into the water along with the video camera held by the hapless tree (whale?) hugger. Next the water stream was directed down the stack of the Sea Grass. The peace now crowd withdrew in defeat. Later the Spanish government impounded the Sea Grass for the duration of our visit in Spanish waters.
At that moment I changed my mind about the environmentalist movement and Crazy Charlie. He was no longer Crazy Charlie; just Charlie. Not only was he not crazy, he was one of the shrewdest individuals I ever met. I wonder where he is now. Charlie is probably the one who should run for office. You know I’m right.
PB19 Crazy Charlie Part 1
He was the new Weapons Officer on Ike (USS Dwight D. Eisenhower CVN-69). Charlie seemed like an ok guy. Ships, even big ships, are small communities at sea and new arrivals are scrutinized like new people in a small town. We are anxious to determine if they will “fit in”. A naval aviator, Charlie seemed like a regular guy, and one that did not seem to harbor any unusual animus towards supply officers (like me).
But soon there were some unsettling incidents. First of all my car pool buddy, Fergie, who worked for Charlie, received a less than optimal fitness report, effectively ending Fergie’s chance at promotion and continuation in the service. Now I have to admit, Fergie was someone who didn’t exactly “fit in” but I knew him to be an exceptionally fine person, unusually concerned about the welfare of his sailors. I decided to speak to Charlie about it. It was not a positive experience. Charlie told me that Fergie was “too weak” to be a Naval Officer and while admittedly a “fine person”, did not belong in the Navy. That seemed a harsh judgment to me especially for a guy who had been on board only a couple of months. Charlie then abruptly left me standing in his office.
Then there was the security force, a responsibility of the Weapons Officer. Prior to Charlie’s arrival, the security force had been a small group of sailors (around 20). They were designated to address any attempt to take over the ship by terrorists when called away by the ship’s public address system (known as the 1MC in the Navy). In the sleepy 80s, no one was much concerned about terrorism, until Charlie came aboard, that is. He increased the security force to over 200 sailors and Marines, issued them fully loaded weapons, and drilled them relentlessly.
When a ship is in port, once the working day is over, most of the crew return to their homes like normal commuters (unless they have the “duty”.) One afternoon, having worked a little later than usual, I decided to leave the ship for home while a security drill was underway. Big mistake. As I walked through the door to the mess area, a huge sailor, bulked up with a flak jacket, and holding a sawed off 12 gauge shotgun, ordered me to lie on the deck. “I am an officer, Son”, I sputtered. “On the deck, Sir, NOW”, he responded. Not wanting to get shot on my own mess deck, I complied. When the 1MC announced that the drill was over, the sailor helped me up. “Sorry Sir, but Commander Walton requires us to treat every drill as the real thing.” “No problem, Petty Officer”, says I with a grimace, dusting myself off. “I will speak to him in the morning”.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” I shouted at Charlie in his office early the next morning. “Your getting those kids all fired up and handing them loaded shotguns? And automatic rifles? And 9 mm pistols? Someone is going to get killed playing your stupid games.” “Now calm down, Chop (the universal nickname for supply officers.) I know that you and the rest of the officers think I’m nuts. I know that the other ships in port know what’s going on here and that they call me Crazy Charlie. I know that you think that this is some sort of stupid game. But I don’t think so and neither does the captain. Every one on the naval base is talking about how excessive Ike’s security drills are and how it is ludicrous that we use so many loaded weapons. But look at it this way. If there ARE terrorists contemplating an attack on a Navy warship, and I believe there are, do you think they are going to hit Ike?” With that, Charlie got up and left his office.
As it turned out, I would soon have an opportunity to see Charlie’s security force in action for real. That will be the subject of a future column. But the point is, Charlie Walton (not his real name) was ahead of his time. You know I’m right.
But soon there were some unsettling incidents. First of all my car pool buddy, Fergie, who worked for Charlie, received a less than optimal fitness report, effectively ending Fergie’s chance at promotion and continuation in the service. Now I have to admit, Fergie was someone who didn’t exactly “fit in” but I knew him to be an exceptionally fine person, unusually concerned about the welfare of his sailors. I decided to speak to Charlie about it. It was not a positive experience. Charlie told me that Fergie was “too weak” to be a Naval Officer and while admittedly a “fine person”, did not belong in the Navy. That seemed a harsh judgment to me especially for a guy who had been on board only a couple of months. Charlie then abruptly left me standing in his office.
Then there was the security force, a responsibility of the Weapons Officer. Prior to Charlie’s arrival, the security force had been a small group of sailors (around 20). They were designated to address any attempt to take over the ship by terrorists when called away by the ship’s public address system (known as the 1MC in the Navy). In the sleepy 80s, no one was much concerned about terrorism, until Charlie came aboard, that is. He increased the security force to over 200 sailors and Marines, issued them fully loaded weapons, and drilled them relentlessly.
When a ship is in port, once the working day is over, most of the crew return to their homes like normal commuters (unless they have the “duty”.) One afternoon, having worked a little later than usual, I decided to leave the ship for home while a security drill was underway. Big mistake. As I walked through the door to the mess area, a huge sailor, bulked up with a flak jacket, and holding a sawed off 12 gauge shotgun, ordered me to lie on the deck. “I am an officer, Son”, I sputtered. “On the deck, Sir, NOW”, he responded. Not wanting to get shot on my own mess deck, I complied. When the 1MC announced that the drill was over, the sailor helped me up. “Sorry Sir, but Commander Walton requires us to treat every drill as the real thing.” “No problem, Petty Officer”, says I with a grimace, dusting myself off. “I will speak to him in the morning”.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” I shouted at Charlie in his office early the next morning. “Your getting those kids all fired up and handing them loaded shotguns? And automatic rifles? And 9 mm pistols? Someone is going to get killed playing your stupid games.” “Now calm down, Chop (the universal nickname for supply officers.) I know that you and the rest of the officers think I’m nuts. I know that the other ships in port know what’s going on here and that they call me Crazy Charlie. I know that you think that this is some sort of stupid game. But I don’t think so and neither does the captain. Every one on the naval base is talking about how excessive Ike’s security drills are and how it is ludicrous that we use so many loaded weapons. But look at it this way. If there ARE terrorists contemplating an attack on a Navy warship, and I believe there are, do you think they are going to hit Ike?” With that, Charlie got up and left his office.
As it turned out, I would soon have an opportunity to see Charlie’s security force in action for real. That will be the subject of a future column. But the point is, Charlie Walton (not his real name) was ahead of his time. You know I’m right.
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