On March 29^th, 1972 an AC-130A gunship from the 16th Special Operations Squadron (SOS) based in Thailand was shot down over Laos with all 14 crew members lost. It was the first of four aircraft and three air crews lost during that difficult year. I arrived in that same unit shortly after the last one went down. This post is my way of commemorating the 50th anniversary of that terrible event. In fact, the whole terrible  year. 

I wrote a book a few years ago about the events of that year. It is a relatively unknown story – one reason I wanted to write it – but also so full of terrible and sad ironies that I felt I had to write it.

Some very brief excerpts from the book.

Bad Moon Rising: 1972 – Year of Blood and Tears for the 16^th SOS

 - - - - - How the Story Began - - - - -

 Assuming you were alive then, what were you doing in 1972?

It was a time of great music like “Horse with No Name” by America, “American Pie” by Don McLean, "Heart of Gold" by Neil Young, "Listen to the Music" by the Doobies and who can forget "Smoke on the Water" by Deep Purple?! (Not to mention countless Three Dog Night songs.) And the Movie, “The Godfather” came out.

1972 was the longest year ever – really. It was a leap year which is when a second is added - except in ‘72 TWO seconds were added making it the longest year by actual time ever. (For some young men those two extra seconds maybe proved to be too little – or perhaps too much.)

The first inklings of Nixon's Watergate scandal were starting to trickle out of D.C.

Also at that time, the war in Vietnam was still struggling on. It was an election year and the Nixon administration was having all sorts of secret negotiations with the North Vietnamese trying to figure out how to slowly back out the door of the morass that was the war in South Vietnam. The count of combat troops was down to around 24,000 from over 500,000 a few years earlier. After over ten years and 58,000 American men and women lost, it seems that we had had enough.

Yet as the politicians tried to tip toe out the front door they needed to leave someone behind to guard the backdoor. Among them was the U.S. Air Force including the men of the 16^th Special Operations Squadron (16th SOS).  

An Epiphany – or Dumb Luck?        

 Young Men Never Die.

Twenty-four hours a day they walk the line

Living up to the reputation.

Assuming the swagger, the hard line,

Their casual indifference to death

 “Young Men” Curt Bennett (US Pilot, Vietnam)

Young men never die. Even young men at war (and it is always young men, and now women too, who fight our wars.) I know that’s counter-intuitive but that really is how young men think; they’re just wired that way. We (yes, I was a young man once) know that people die but it’s always some other person, someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing or isn’t fast enough or strong enough or smart enough – or gets some terrible disease. (I suppose our country’s leaders, who need us to fight their wars, depend on our belief in this too.) The rest of us don’t die. Until we do.

                                                       Ubon, Thailand 1973 - Crew 29   

Who is that handsome, young blond dude embracing the “big gun?” (And please, no phallic jokes.) Photo courtesy of Michael Amira at Spectre Ass’n (kneeling left front.)

- - - - - The Price of War - - - - -

 “Bad Moon Rising”

             I see a bad moon rising

 I see trouble on the way

 I see earthquakes and lightening

 I see bad times today

 Creedence Clearwater Revival

 

Somewhere over Laos 1972

AC-130 Gunship Night Fire

The gunship was based at Ubon Ratchathani Royal Thai Air Force Base, Thailand, only a few hundred kilometers west of the Ho Chi Minh Trail here in Laos. Unknown to this crew and the other members of the squadron, the year 1972 would prove to be annus horribilis for them.

In the war in Vietnam, a total of 2460 American aircraft (USAF, US Navy and Marines – plus over five thousand helicopters) were lost in combat; 58,220 Americans and over 1.3 million Vietnamese soldiers were killed, hundreds of thousands of ground troops and pilots had been wounded or taken prisoners in the long years of the war and over 2 million civilians on both sides died. It’s one of the realities, despite our most optimistic hopes, that all men in combat are at risk of losing their life and many do. Yet somehow it only comes home to you when it is YOUR unit and YOUR friends that start to lose their lives. After several years of relatively few casualties it was the 16^th SOS’s turn to be bruised by war. It was sent reeling with four aircraft shot down, many others severely damaged and worst of all, some 40 men were lost.

Yet the war went on as they always seem to do.

These incredibly close-knit men did very dangerous work under terrible conditions – as men at war have always done - but simply never gave in. Yet there is always a bill to be paid by such men and in 1972 the bill came due.

A Hint of What was to Come?

Perhaps there was an inkling of the price in Nov ‘71. 

 The Curse of the Albatross Begins?

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean

“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”     

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Prometheus  - The Beginning of the Sad, Strange Story of Balls 44

Aircraft tail number 55-0044 - Prometheus, to her crew chief and other maintenance folks, was a AC130A Gunship. (To crewmemebers she known as Balls 44.) It was an older “A” model of the venerable C-130 transport, an airplane that was first in use in the early 50’s (and newer versions are still in use today.) Modified and armed with two 40 millimeter cannons and two 20 millimeter rotary cannons, she had various sensors that allowed her to stare in the darkness and see the enemy below. 44, and like her sister gunships, was a tremendously effective weapon.     

In November of 1971 she was cruising the notorious Ho Chi Minh Trail with call sign Spectre 21, with her baleful stare seeking targets. The gunships were famous – or infamous depending on your perspective – for destroying the supply trucks by the hundreds. In fact, there was a bounty on the gunships and their crews by the enemy. Suddenly, however, she was no longer the hunter but became the hunted; in an instant she took a tremendous amount of damage from anti- aircraft artillery (AAA) to her right wing and numbers three and four engines – and both lost their propellers. In fact, she almost lost her entire right wing. In addition, a crew member was severely wounded.

All that damage, pain and drama yet the pilots, Captains Baertle and Skinner, brought her back to Ubon with one of the finest demonstrations of airmanship most of us might ever see.

 Balls 44 battle damage, Nov 1971  

            Photo Courtesy of Bruce Hedlund at Spectre Association site

The crew chiefs, Rhett and Combs, (and Tom’s role in our story is not yet done nor is that of 44) and the entire maintenance team at Ubon worked for over two months repairing the damage to Balls 44 including an entirely new right wing and four new engines and in Jan, back to work she went.

Premonition?

The damage was also noticed, however, by some of the aircrew members who went out to the flight line when they heard the plane was coming in very damaged.

The aircraft landed and after it taxied to the ramp we were amazed at the battle damage. It wasn’t just the props that were gone but most of leading edge of the right wing. There was damage to other parts of the aircraft as well – which I recall included one of the engines on the left wing. It was the first serious incident since most of us had been there. My reaction was probably pretty typical – impressed (and somewhat assured) that the AC-130 could survive such extensive damage, but also somewhat shaken by the reality that we were playing a very deadly game. (Jodoin, 2015)

As if to show the intricate dance of irony and fate in the affairs of men, these comments about 44 were written by Capt. Gary Chandler. With these words, he unknowingly had acknowledged that the albatross was still out there somewhere and perhaps waiting for him as well.

- - - - - More Premonitions - - - - -

Don’t Believe in Miracles, Depend on Them” 

Laurence J. Peter

The Saga of 56-509

Sometimes Luck is All You Got

It was March 3^rd and as sure as the sun sets in the west another Spectre mission was heading to the Trail. 509 was an A model gunship.  As is usually the case, even in war, everything is going along normally - until it isn’t.  The night sky is suddenly illuminated by AAA fire and equally as suddenly the plane is hit by several 57mm (millimeter) rounds, with one exploding below the booth where the IR operator should be sitting but was occupied by an additional crewmember riding along. The shell actually blew a hole in the floor, almost dropping the seat into the night. At least a couple of other crew members were also injured - but the aircraft was still air worthy.

The pilot and crew were able to nurse the plane back to Ubon while crewmembers in back were said to physically hold the crewmember so that he wouldn’t fall through the hole in the floor.

Hole in the floor of 509 after struck my 57 mm AAA

As luck or fate would have it, the crew member so severely injured - a crew member who any other night would not have been on board - was none other Capt. Gary Chandler who had commented on Balls 44 a few months earlier. While he and the crew of 509 survived their encounter with fate it was, in afterthought, an omen that perhaps things really were changing for the worse for the 16^th SOS, a fact to be borne out a short while later.

 “There’s no escaping fate, it just keeps going. Day and night it just keeps coming at you”

“Invisible Monsters” Chuck Palahiuk

The Albatross Circles Balls 44 - The Many Tragedies of Spectre 13

Aircraft 55-0044, all patched up after her damage in November, went out on a few more missions with no problems – until the night of March 29. Gunship call sign Spectre 13 – good old Balls 44 – was once again cruising the Trail near Tchepone  (Tchepone, Laos, was an important intersection on the trail and was infamous for its danger to gunshippers.) When at about 0300hrs, (from crew chief Tom Combs again,)

“According to the pilots (of F-4 fighters that were escorting Spectre 13), the AC-130 was in a valley a few miles west of Tchepone, Laos. The gunship was working over targets in the area. Visibility was about four miles with scattered clouds at 6,000 feet. The aircraft was illuminated by the full moon to the west, a gunners' moon. Triple-A was moderate, nothing unusual, until the fighter pilots saw a SAM  (surface to air missile) launch from their port side. It rose up in an arc headed for the AC-130. As the gunship rolled right to avoid the first SAM, two more were fired at it from different locations. There was no way out! They were bracketed. The escort pilots agreed, he took a hit on the right wing inboard engine and an explosion and fire resulted. As the gunship started to drop down, another explosion occurred and something large and flaming was seen to separate from the aircraft.

"There was no mayday call," said the Phantom pilot.”

A few hours later, I was on the flight line under the lights of the revetment, helping another crew chief work on his airplane. Suddenly, the line truck pulled up to the ramp with a screeching of tires. The line chief saw me and waved me over to the truck.

"Your aircraft is down," he said.

"You mean it’s been hit again?" I asked.

"It's worse than that," he said, "Come with me."

"It was eerie. I can't find the words to describe how we felt. I was hoping it was all a dream and our AC-130 would appear from around the corner, putting an end to all this. John and I realized we were forged together in tragedy. Ours is a bond that will last forever.” (Combs, 3/31/2013, “Aircraft Down” Huffington Post)

One moment a proud airplane and crew in control of their domain and the next at a catastrophic end.

Is it just a coincidence that 44, along with all 14 crewmembers, would be lost so shortly after her earlier near-death experience and with the very same crew chiefs watching over her? Did fate - and the enemy - conspire to bring 0044 back down to earth? Is it also a part of the mystery that she was the first gunship to be brought down by a missile? Gunships had been engaged over the jungles of SEA since 1967 and never been harmed by the dangerous missiles. In the end, perhaps it wasn’t just 0044; maybe it was part of a larger sense of bad karma that caught up to the entire 16^th SOS, something that became ever more evident as the terrible year that was 1972 wore on - the year of a bad moon rising. 

                                 Sadly, there is more to this story. 

                                                

                   Capt Halpin - Tour was over                               Capt Metzger should have been on flight

(Note: In the book I share the details of extraordinarily ironic and tragic stories of Capt's Halpin and Metzger related to this downing.)

“Men of Action are favored by the Goddess of Luck.”

George S. Clason

Good Luck or Bad? Spectre 22 – You Decide

A Crew Favored by the Goddess . . . But Not Their Ship 

It was night time, March 30^th just a day after the loss of 44. There is no time for mourning in war, there is just more war to be fought. Spectre 22, tail number 69-6571, one of the new E models was sent out on the nightly hunt for trucks on the Trail near Saravan, Laos.  the Big Gun on 571 - 105mm Howitzer cannon - (Note:  I give a much more detailed background on the gunship and mission in the book.) It was one of the first in the unit and had actually been on another E model but was switched to 571 not long before the mission because the other aircraft had been damaged by anti-aircraft fire. 

(From a crewmember, Sgt. Robert "Jake" Jacobs, a gunner on that aircraft, a long and excellent description of the downing and rescue in the book is excerpted here.)

The aircraft took two direct hits of 57mm; the time was approximately 2200 hours. I felt them hit the aircraft and hesitated for a split second, then grabbed for my chute and put it on. Remember that my parachute harness was already tightened from a few minutes earlier. One round of 57mm struck the aircraft in the belly around the area of the nose wheel. It did not come through the floor of the aircraft, Thank God, probably because the “E” model Gunships have amour plating in their belly and the fact that the Good Lord was watching out for us. The 2nd round of 57mm struck the aircraft in the right wing between #3 and #4 engines around the area of the ECM Pods (Electronic Counter Measure) and this immediately started a fire on the right wing. 

As soon as we were hit our pilot, Captain Waylon Fulk obtained a course from our navigator for home and then had a radio “check in” of all the personnel on the crew. After everyone checked in he proceeded to radio a “MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY”!  NOTE; all crewmembers safely bailed out.

I mean the U.S. Government stopped the entire air war to concentrate on saving 15 air crewmembers. (who had bailed out) They spent millions of dollars and most importantly all those pilots above me were risking their lives to save me. I actually had tears in my eyes at one moment during the night. This is why I couldn’t quit flying. 

“It truly was an Easter egg hunt and with Easter Sunday just around the corner on April 2^nd, it was a blessing as well.”

As noted, the rescue of the crew of Spectre 22 was the largest efforts by the rescue forces of the entire war until then. This was due to both the crew’s location as well as the sheer number of crew members that were down at once.

Ironically, two days later their rescue was eclipsed by probably the most famous (and unique) search and rescue of the war, the recovery of BAT 21. The story of Bat 21 was later made into a book and a movie starring Gene Hackman and Danny Glover. 

The details of the rescue of Bat 21 survivor, Lt Col Gene Hambleton, while nearly unbelievable is also tragic due to the number of aircraft and men lost in his rescue.

                                 - - - - -The Ironic Tragedies Continue for the 16th SOS- - - - -

"Do you believe that evil and tragedy are always planned? You don’t think Fortune has anything to do with it?"

“The Ferryman” Amy Neftzger

No Respite from Misfortune 

After his first aircraft, 0044, was shot down in March Tom Combs had been assigned to Balls 43 and he worked his ass off keeping it in flying condition. Night after night, constant repairs due to enemy fire and just the ravages of time on an old “A” model aircraft needed constant attention but she was in great shape nonetheless.

On the evening of June 18^th 0043 call sign Spectre 11 took off after dark as usual.  With a crew of 15 she headed east to hunt for trucks. (As an aside, the Watergate break in had occurred the day before on Jun17 beginning in the scandal that would bring down a President. Some said it affected his handling of the war from then on but who knows.)

 At approximately 2355hrs she was hit by a shoulder mounted SAM and was struck in the right wing near the number 3 (inboard) engine.  At first the aircraft Commander, Capt. Paul Gilbert, rang the emergence egress bell – the warning to bailout. He and the co-pilot apparently did their best to hold the aircraft steady so the crew could jump but 43 was mortally wounded. The F4 fighters escorting her saw what appeared to be the right wing and tail come off the plane and it spiraled into the jungle below but not before three crewmembers either jumped or were blown out. The three survivors were quickly recovered in relatively good shape; all others were lost.

(Note: Yet more tragedy with this loss hits Capt Lang Metzger whose personal pain was mentioned in shoot down of Balls 44.)

War is young men dying and old men talking. You know this. Ignore the politics.

King Odysseus to Achilles, movie “Troy”

The Rest of 1972

The war struggled on through the rest of the summer. The secret talks – that weren’t very secret – between Nixon and Kissinger and the North Vietnamese struggled on as well. America wanted out, Nixon wanted out, even the North Vietnamese wanted out. Eventually Nixon made some deals with the North Vietnamese, deals that, when the details of which got out, were totally unacceptable to the South Vietnamese (they accused Nixon of lying. Can you imagine that?) In any event, starting in October things began to go south in the negotiations leading up to furious bombing of North Vietnam with Operation Linebacker II. Some said it was done to appease South Vietnamese President Thieu’s temper tantrum, some said it was to punish the North and force them back to negotiations. Does it matter?

The operation started in mid-December and ended on Jan 15^th and apparently was a success – if you can call an operation in which the air force lost fifteen B-52’s, two F-4s, 2 F111s, one RB-66 and HH 53 rescue helicopter a success. In addition, the navy lost two A-7’s, two A-6s and one F-4.

The two parties signed a peace agreement ending the war in Viet Nam on Jan 27^th, 1973. (Although war continued in Cambodia for several more months including combat missions for Spectre.)

Unfortunately, a little too late for Spectre 17.

 

Hope you got your things together

Hope you are quite prepared to die

Looks like we’re in for nasty weather

One eye is taken for an eye

“Bad Moon Rising,” Creedence Clearwater Revival

Bad Moon has Risen

The war may almost be over – I’m pretty sure most of the crews in the 16th SOS thought so too – but until it was there were missions to be flown. Aircraft 0490, Spectre 17- an A model – took off around 6PM on the night of Dec 21^st for another sortie over the Trail. The crew was augmented by an additional three men making a crew of 16. 

(Note: This is another excerpt of an excellent 1st person description of events.)

In my conversation with Willie (Sgt. Richard “Willie” Williams, a gunner on the crew and one of only two survivors) he pointed out how fast everything had happened: take off at 6:00, fired on by AAA at 7:00 and he was on the ground not far from the crash site at 7:30. He and his fellow survivor were picked up by about 9:30.

We all know that things happen fast in life – especially in war - but by any standard this is extraordinary.

As noted, the regular crew of Spectre 17 was augmented that night by three additional members: Maj Paul Meder, a new IR sensor operator who was along on an orientation ride, Maj Frank Walsh, an F4 pilot who was along to observe the F4/gunship tactics and Sgt. John Winningham, an evaluator along to check out the student I/O Stevens. Each of these men, on any other night, would not be aboard Spectre 17. Each, on any other night, might be in control of their own destiny (as much as any man can.)  Or perhaps their destiny simply found them.

One final, tragic note that if written for a movie might not be believed; Maj Walsh’s wife arrived at Ubon the next day for a brief holiday visit. The wing commander greeted her with the terrible news in person.

Something else to think about . . .

 Gunship officer crewmembers would fly between 120 and 150 combat missions in their one-year tour with enlisted guys often flying many more (and also several tours, mostly because they were crazy!)

“Only the dead will know the end of war.”

Plato

War, for those who survive it, is a life changing event. For some it makes them a better person, yet others it destroys. And as for me? I can only say that learning about these men and writing this story simply made me appreciate, once again, how fortunate I have been doing the things I have done, the places I have been and the long and happy life that I so far have been able to live.

I am pained, humbled and thankful for their sacrifice - and that of the hundreds of thousands of others who gave their lives in our many other wars.

In order to keep this fairly brief I could not adequately describe the very sad and ironic back stories of each of the aircraft and crews that are lost as well with other interesting information about the aircraft and mission, that year and the Vietnam war in general. 

If you're interested in reading the whole book – a very short book – please email me and I will provide a link.  If you read it I hope you find it interesting. More importantly, I hope you gain an even greater appreciation for both the courage and sacrifice of our men and women in uniform in all wars.

As always, thanks for reading.

D Roger and Mrs Dear Leader: On the Road Again

 Viva Las Cruces

The Organ Mountains from our condo

Well, the gods of weather apparently decided that we shouldn't miss out on the recent Big Freeze hitting the country so here we were, all bundled up, 25 degrees outside and got an 1/8 of an inch of snow - that qualifies as Snowpocalypse here. It's bad to have crappy weather when you left home to escape crappy weather but life is full of troubles. On a positive note, at least it gives me a break from bad golf and a chance to share what we’ve learned from our totally new winter escape.

Mrs Dear Leader and I, having been home bound like everyone else for two years, decided we needed to get out of town again this winter. We have been going to FL for several years but decided we needed a break from the overcrowded, goof-filled looney bin that is FL for a change.

Aside from FL there are only so many places you can go for guaranteed nice weather in the US: Southern Texas, southern Arizona, southern California and . . .  well, that’s about it. (Of course, it has to be some place we can drive to  because of . . .

                        
                                                 Princess Prudie

So if FL is out because of goofs then Texas and Arizona are out as well. In fact, they may be worse – totally nuts state governments in both: voter suppression and fake “fraud audit" anyone? 

(As an aside, a dear friend of many years who moved to AZ 14 years ago is moving back to MN. No raging liberal is he but he’s had enough of their nonsense as have several other folks he knows there. You don’t read much about this reverse migration but it is happening.)

                                            Said friend who flew down from AZ to visit,                                                                                                                                             We bought him a taco and he gave me a ride around.

So anyway, LA and San Diego are nice but yowser, are they expensive! Thus, we decided on the poor man’s Las Vegas - Las Cruces, New Mexico. I had bumped into a few guys over the years golfing that had been here or knew of people who had and enjoyed it.

No, we didn’t really know where it is either but we didn’t let that stop us. We just knew that it is as far south as you can go (excluding El Paso, 40 miles away and which, of course, is in Texas - next stop, Juarez, Mexico.) So, after an extremely boring 21-hour drive with stops in the Greater Topeka Metroplex and the Cattle Stockyard Capital of the World, Amarillo TX, we arrived in Las Cruces on New Year’s day.

Las Cruces is the second largest city in New Mexico after Albuquerque with about 110,000 people in the city and maybe couple hundred thousand in the metro area. So, a nice size with plenty of amenities but not so large as to be swamped in traffic, overpriced housing and food (or over stuffed rich people.) 

                                                      

        

We're staying near Mesilla                                                                                                                                                                                the original old town, now a suburb 

                                                                   Basilica San Albino - Mesilla                    

                                

Jail where Billy the kid was awaiting hanging - until he killed two guards and escaped, only to be shot by Pat Garrett not far from here. Now a gift shop - how apropos!

Note: There should be a picture of the Rio Grande River here too, it flows by just outside Mesilla. It was one of the things I was really looking forward to seeing but a picture of an empty river bed is not too impressive. It's usually bone dry this time of year, I guess, but the experts say it is also going the way of Colorado too. Wow, that will sure help the migrant problem.

Generally, I would call Las Cruces pretty much a blue collar town with nothing in common with Vegas except the desert and weather. They do have a major college, New Mexico State University, so there are an almost endless bunch of bars, bistro’s, libraries and museums. The restaurant scene, as you can imagine, is filled with fabulous Mex and Tex-Mex places that are inexpensive and you can get in without sacrificing a kidney. 

    

             

           White Sands is about 60 miles east of LC 

   

                                                                                                               Very cool - 270 Sq Mi of  golfer's nighmare

                                 

I was going to try this but "certain people" stopped me. . . 

That and the thought of a lot of sand in my undies!

     

The population is about 65% Hispanic, 30% Anglo and the rest Native American, Asian and Other. We have found the people here to be uncommonly friendly. Best of all, they’re not nuts. We were shocked the first time we went into the grocery store and Every. Single. Person. was wearing a mask. That is true wherever you go here. Sure they have a mandate but so do we at home but here there's no whining, wheedling or threatening - what’s the matter with these people, don’t they know it’s un-American to give a rat’s ass about your fellow citizens?! (I will say I’ve never seen this many people driving around in their car by themselves wearing a mask but we're all allowed some eccentricities - thank God!)

One of the finest Veteran's Memorial Parks I have ever seen with all our stinking wars represented with individual memorials to each.

Memorial to all the New Mexicans who gave the last full measure in every war we have fought (now multiply by 50)

                  

Vietnam Memorials  

Women at war

Of course, there are a few loonies here too – this is still part of the US you know. One guy near us has a large “F%$! Biden” flag proudly flying over his house. (He did put the US flag above it - quite the patriot.) Overall, though, the folks here just seem to be like the Americans we used to know and love before we turned into whatever it is we have turned into; they are a pleasure to be around.

The Organ Mountains Overlook the Mesilla Valley

               They  are endlessly fascinating . . .                                                                                                                                      

        Constantly changing with the sun - that's not snow        

                      

                                                 The Organs up close - very unique geology                                                                                                                                     (I didn't include sign seen everywhere "Beware of rattlesnakes" Ugh!)

How’s the weather you may well ask. Well, it’s not Florida but then where else is? (And why do those doofus’ get to have that weather?!) Nonetheless, it is overall pretty delightful (Apparently with the exception of this very rare recent event.) Virtually every day is bright, clear sunshine (300 days per year.) It is brisk every morning high 20’s-low 30’s - Las Cruces is the high desert at 4000’ elevation so that’s to be expected. It warms up to high 50’s, low 60’s everyday with NO WIND! Which brings us to the most important thing, Golf!

  Due to the weather I quickly determined that               late tee times are necessary for a mature                     golfer like myself. Sadly, there are only three               public courses but still tee times are pretty easy         to get. Luckily, I like desert golf and the courses         are above average in quality. And the price? It’s           so cheap I (almost) feel guilty. They have senior         discounts, military discounts – it’s paradise!

So, as I was saying . . . Hey look, squirrel! 

I gotta go, the sun is out again and temp is rising - I got important things to do!

Hey, Mrs Dear Leader, our ride is here!

I have just one request: please don’t tell anyone what I’ve posted here about Las Cruces. In fact, forget everything I said. 

Everyone stay away, we don’t want to turn this into another Vegas or Scottsdale!

Hasta la Vista - Baby

 

The Winter Solstice - A Short History

Solstice 2021    The Greatest Day of the Year

Most people that know me know that the winter solstice is my favorite day of the year. No, seriously it is and has been for a very long time. Why? Because it is the beginning of the end of the miserable darkness in the northern hemisphere, that's why! (Don't ask about it's evil twin in June.) My happiness comes at a cost however. To explain why, I like to share stories, stories that might teach a lesson, perhaps warm the heart and hopefuly hasten the return of the sun. (But don't hold me to any of that.)

I have cranked out a lot of stories over the years but sadly have been too busy to do so this year. (What, you think you can just whip one of these out in a couple hours?! To quote a very good friend of mine, "I have nothing to do and still can't get everything done.") But fear not, I have reached back to update and share one from several years ago. 

I hope you find it reassuring. Behold.

Enjoying the Solstice Fire (Want some S'mores with that grog?)

Finally, a glimmer of hope in this the darkest time of the year. It is no wonder that the early Christian elders appropriated this time of the year for their own use lo those many years ago; you need to give the people what they want - and what they want is to get out of the freaking frigid, dark, endless night of winter! Yes, like those early heathens there is still something to drinking grog, prancing around the fire and praying really, really hard to bring the sun back. 

But here is something you probably didn’t know. Like most good things in western civilization, it was actually the Greeks we need to thank for this wonderful day. Here’s the story.

In Greek mythology the sun god Helios was responsible for assuring that the sun made its daily trip across the sky. It was very good work indeed; as his chariot sped across the globe besides bringing the sun he was to peer into every bedroom in the world and report back to the big gods (and we thought Santa had a tough job!)  And then there was Phaeton. Ah, Phaeton. . .

Phaeton was Helios’ son and as all parents do Helios loved his son dearly. I won’t go into the whole sordid affair but suffice to say that after much wheedling and whining by Phaeton, Helios gave in to him. He gave him the reins to his four magnificent horses and chariot allowing him to take a turn pulling the sun across the heavens. As you might guess, like a teenager driving dad’s car for the first time, it didn’t end well. Yet despite the importance of Helios’ job and the tragedy that was Phaeton’s early morning drive (and dumping horse poop on Mt Olympus was only a small part of that tragedy) there is, oddly, no word about something of even greater importance (at least to me.) What does this have to do with the solstice? Why must the sun go so far to the south of us poor inhabitants of the northern hemisphere? Why does old Sol abandon us just as we need him most in the darkness of December? Why do I drink so heavily this time of the year? Why is life so full of stupid questions? The Greeks never said but lucky for you I have a theory.

I'm sure that after Phaeton’s* rather disastrous and destructive trip around the world, Zeus, Apollo and that old crab Poseidon were really pissed. Aside from Zeus' wife Hera, who thought it was funny, Dionysus was probably the only god who didn’t seem to care - but that was mostly because he was always gassed this time of the year too. In any event, they were all ragging on Helios so much that he did the only thing a guy, er, a god in his position could do - deny, deny, deny! Furthermore, he knew the best defense is always a great offense - so he decided to take the sun and leave.

Helios had always made his trip from west to east - well no more Mr. Nice Guy! He started going in the opposite direction. He also had always gone around right at the equator but enough of that too, he started heading further and further south on his way around the globe. Now this really got the other gods’ attention because as he got further away from the equator it got darker and colder on Mt. Olympus. “Holy $!&%!” I imagine the gods saying, “the dude is going to freeze us to death!” (or something like that.) Just as Helios planned, the gods soon start begging him to come home (no word on how his wife felt) and finally after many lamentations – and the promise to get him a new chariot – he slowly brought his steeds around and headed them back to the north. Sadly, for us (okay, for me) the opposite also holds true as he gets to the other side of the equator but that’s a different lamentation. 

But the story isn’t over, oh no, my friends. To this very day Helios is still exacting his revenge. Sadly, all the other gods retired eons ago and moved to various high government jobs (or Goldman Sachs) so selfless men - men, for example, like me - have had to fill in for the gods. That means we must continue to massage Helios' ego every winter to help us escape the endless darkness and cold of a Minnesota December. We must humbly continue begging, crying and rending our garments at this time of the year to urge him and his huge, pretentious, CO2-spewing, Suburban SUV-like chariot - and life-giving sun - back to our northern climes.

Anyway, check at 9:59 AM CST Tues to make sure it worked for another year.

No need to thank me, I’m just a giver. 

* Also no need to worry about Phaeton. He has been immortalized by naming an interesting combination of vehicles after him: a Rolls Royce, a Volkswagen and an RV. 

PS

Did I mention this year will be the 11th Annual Thomas Neighborhood Solstice S'Mores party hosted by moi and Mrs. Dear Leader? Sadly, many of the little kids in the 'hood when we started this are now sneering teenagers poo pooing my efforts. On the other hand, some new kids have moved into the block so there is that. Besides, the parents still seem to enjoy a S'More (and/or an adult beverage.)

Skol! (or Ya Mas! for you Philhellenists) 

                                                  

  

                        2015  (Ah, you little cretins!)              

 
                                                             2019 (It's midnight, don't you people have a home?!)
                                                

Happy Holidays and a Healthy, Happy New Year to You and Yours!

Your Solar Servant,

Dougopolous (The Playdoh of Thomas Ave.)

Solstice Music (I couldn't decide which so I chose all)

Wonderful Solstice Time    Paul McCartney

Rockin' Around the Solstice Tree    Brenda Lee

Carol of the Solstice Bells    Trans-Siberian Railroad

The Last Leaf

 

My oldest daughter recently sent me something that, at first blush, is perfect for a leaf watching meditation and it certainly is that. Of course, as you will see, this verse can mean different things to different people and for many different reasons.

As for me, as a lot of people have noted, I've had a pretty negative outlook for quite some time (although sadly as one looks around my country, I may have good reason.) So this lovely piece was very timely because it forced me to have an attitude check that I definitely needed. It may not negate the things have made me feel so sour but it reminded me that it's easy to let the minutiae of modern life take on a role well beyond their actual importance.  It said, "Come on, pal, it's time to step back and get a grip, focus on things like family, friends and how you are living your life instead of crap you can't control." Alrighty then!

Obviously and most importantly this contemplation also speaks to the biggest issue for us all and that is dealing with mortality. (Which, of course, looms a bit larger for those of us who are, shall we say, of a "certain age.")

Since the first homosapien watched his or her partner keel over and stop breathing -"Say, what happen to Ugh, he no wake up" - we've asked, is that all there is? From there it was an easy step to start figuring (hoping?) that it couldn't be all there was.  Let's face it, this life can be kind of crappy (and was REALLY crappy for a caveman - even worse for cavewomen!) so that they had to think that we should get some kind of reward for putting up with it, right? That, in fact, we must kind of move on to some new and hopefully better place. Thus, as Homer said some 2800 years ago, "All men have need of the gods." And humans were off to the races to figure out where and what "that place" was with countless gods, religions and destinations. And that's okay. To paraphrase the song, whatever gets you through the long, dark nights is alright.

So her sharing this piece now, serendipitously, was a timely reminder to another poor, sad human in the - ahem - autumn of his life that this one really isn't all there is.

I Asked the Leaf

I asked the leaf whether it was frightened because it was autumn and the other leaves were falling. The leaf told me, "No. During the whole spring and summer I was completely alive. I worked hard to help nourish the tree, and now much of me is in the tree. I am not limited by this form. I am also the whole tree and when I go back to the soil, I will continue to nourish the tree. So I don't worry at all. As I leave this branch and float to the ground, I will wave to the tree and tell her, "I will see you again very soon."

That day there was a wind blowing and, after a while, I saw the leaf leave the branch and float down to the soil, dancing joyfully, because as it floated, it saw itself already there in the tree. It was so happy. 

I bowed my head, knowing that I have a lot to learn from that leaf.

Author: Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese Monk

Thank you, Thich Nhat Hanh - and thank you, kiddo. Here's hoping the best of me (what there may be of it) is in our tree too.

            Epilogue: 10/22  - To add to my usual sunny dispostion, I got word from my spinal surgeon today that I am healed - and with very little laying on of hands this time. The return of golf . . .  just in time for cold weather  - but at least I can have long, hot baths again so I got that going for me.          

Oh, and he announced that he is retiring (apparently I'm not totally responsible.)

In any event, I repeat - I am a VERY lucky man!

And now for your musical accompaniment take your pick - you can't go wrong with any of them.

 

Is That All There Is? Bette Midler

 

Whatever Gets You Thru the Night  John Lennon

The Last Leaf   The Cascades (a particular favorite of mine from 1963 when I was in the spring of my life!)

FREEDOM!

Can anyone who has watched the movie “Braveheart” forget that scream by William Wallace at the end of the movie when he is being eviscerated by the king’s men?

Having recently watched the movie again, it started me thinking a lot about the word "freedom" and what it means to we Americans.

As a country we have a unique relationship with and devotion to freedom - we REALLY love it! Freedom in its many forms is enshrined in our Constitution which is both a cause and an effect of that love. In fact, we have gone to war many times to protect it and spent vast fortunes and countless American lives to help others have or keep those same freedoms (although with varying degrees of success in either.)

 
Over the centuries that our country has been in existence we have grown from thirteen colonies with 3 million people (almost exclusively white Europeans - and their slaves, of course) living on farms, to a country of fifty states with a very diverse, mostly urban population of over 330 million. In all that time we have maintained our freedoms. But it took effort. Like all modern democracies we have learned to interpret the idea of freedom to reflect the reality of our lives; the definition of "freedom" has evolved with time and circumstances. For example, we learned to give up a little so-called freedom in order to cooperate for common good, pull together and accomplish great things. It's worked pretty well for over two hundred years as we became the richest, most powerful country in the history of the world. Until recently that is. What has happened to us? 

      How did we go from this . . .

  
  

The difficult times we have endured over the past several years have seemed to harden our hearts and closed our minds. We were once a country driven by hope and optimism.Now, it seems, we are driven by fear and anger - about pretty much everything. Of the right wing, left wing, urban, rural, old folks, young folks, immigrants, the economy, voting, the wealthy, the poor, the homeless, the police, Black Lives Matters, Boogaloo Bois, Antifa, vaccines, masks, science in general. Oh, and smart people.

                                                                 To This?

                                       

 

      

                                                                             

                                                          Then a protest in SUPPORT of 

                                                            these treasonous turds?! 

 The boogey men are as numerous as each of our own individual tribe's beliefs. Fear and anger are spread by the internet that allows us all to be experts at everything - and spread our own version of the truth. They are further inflamed by the political parties and by big media and by social media - all for their benefit. Finally, they are spread by our own laziness in accepting lies as truth. The result is that now even freedom is under assault. It has been cheapened and degraded by our own actions. 

Actions like:

 

Freedom to risk our neighbors health by refusing personal actions that our parents and grandparents would have simply considered sacrifices . . . no, not sacrifices, contributions for the common good. Were they fools?

 

Freedom to inflict our religious beliefs on others. Isn't that what the authors of the constituion wanted to avoid?

Freedom to avoid and silence voices that make us uncomfortable. A college "safe space?" Really, are we so weak minded?

Freedom to make preposterous and dangerous claims without penalty. Do facts and common sense no longer matter? 

Perhaps I'm wrong, maybe these really are examples of the modern American ideal of freedom. If so they're a sad comment on both freedom and us. Even worse, they dishonor the sacrifices others have made for real freedoms over these many years. America, a Beacon of Freedom? Right now it's more like a tiny penlight. Is it any wonder that other countries look at "the world's greatest democracy" and shake their collective heads? 

If you're looking for a solution from me, I'm sorry I don't have one. I'm just an old guy who is sad and frustrated to see a great country, a country for which I gave 28 years of my life in the military, turned into the laughing stock of the world or worse. We are fast becoming the latest example of a once-great country in moral decline - too dumb and arrogant to respect but too rich and well-armed to ignore.  

Kris Kristofferson once wrote about another definition of freedom: "Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose." I doubt William Wallace would cry "freedom!" from anything as petty as wearing a mask or taking a shot . . . but he might agree with Kris. 

And, like Braveheart, we too will have nothing left to lose if we continue to turn freedom into a selfish joke. 

 

(I knew you would't be able to get this song out of you head)

Me and Bobby McGee Janice Joplin