I played with Andy for a time before Dougy revealed himself with a dramatic pounce. Andy decided it was a time for treats, and left Dougy to play alone. Poor Dougy! Everyone knows it’s more fun to play with your best buddy than to play alone!
Monthly Archives: July 2014
Post 473: of Jeep accidents and other messes…
The first long out-of-town US Army motion picture job I went on was Reforger II, an annual Cold War exercise conducted in the Autumn of 1970. It was doubly exciting because it also was the first time I got to drive on the Autobahn, if in a Jeep with a speed restricted to 60 mph (100 km/h). It was 1970.
I just passed the test for my military license, was a newly-minted SP4 (same pay grade as a corporal), and it was my first time to drive anything with a trailer attached. The trailer held our personal gear and various supplies to get us through the exercise.
We decided to return to Kaiserslautern for the weekend since we were close by. It was early evening and we looked forward to sleeping in our own beds!
On the way back to Kaiserslautern, in the Ludwigshaven area, there was road construction. Though I passed the written and driving tests for my military driver’s license, I failed to recognize the significance of the road sign for “right lane merges left” at a section of road repair till too late. With inadequate time to slow for a safe merge (plus there was traffic in the left lane that wouldn’t let me move over) and a trailer that began to fishtail when I braked, I lost control of the Jeep and rolled it across two lanes.
My passenger and I had a few bumps and bruises, but slow speed minimized the injuries. Oh, I did sideswipe a German’s car, but he made out OK, thanks to the arrangement the US Army had with the Germans to replace or repair things killed, run over, hit, knocked over, or otherwise harmed during Reformer operations.
I did total the Jeep, I learned later. I don’t recall much more about the accident. I’m sure I talked with someone in authority about what happened, probably my 1st Sergeant, but forgot about it until over a year later when my 1st Sergeant pulled me aside. By then, I’d made SP5 (like a sergeant with three stripes in pay grade), was well into my time as a motion picture photographer, had lots of road trips — without incident! — under my belt, and thought the matter of the Jeep was ancient history.
“The file on the Jeep accident is closed. They’ve decided not to make you pay for the Jeep or charge you with anything,” What!?
The figure of $20,000 came up as replacement cost for the Jeep, a sum equal in purchasing power to $127,204.42 now. Don’t think I didn’t have to sit down after hearing that! Turned out the Jeep was fully depreciated out since my photo company only got the old crap left over from other more critical units. Later, it turned out that model Jeep had a history of rolling over. I think they realized that.
Oh, I forgot to mention: The gas tank was under the driver’s seat in that Jeep, and the gas cap came off during the rollover. I was soaked in gasoline. Standing along the Autobahn after the accident, Germans smoked cigarettes. I truly was blessed to come out of that accident with so little injury to my passenger or me.
🙁
Remember these? If so, you are older than dirt!
That’s a Hermes portable typewriter, a high-class Swiss machine that was a joy to use. Or was it? It had no spell or grammar check, and “cut and paste” literally required scissors and a bottle of glue if you wanted to insert a photo into the text. How quaint! But it served me well during my army days and up till I got a word processor sometime around 1990.
Come to think about it, that word processor wasn’t so wonderful either: Dim five-line screen, cranky program to correct errors, a film ribbon that made great looking letters though the film flaked off the paper. Yeah, you could write letters or do reports on it. That’s pretty much it.
Give me my computer any day!
🙂
I liked my barracks cubicle. I had lots of light and fresh air from large windows. I “inherited” a large editing table from the person who had the cubicle before me. Thanks to large lockers, I had a wall on two sides of my cubicle formed by two of a roommate’s lockers and my two, set up in an “L” pattern. A small cabinet that blocked the view across from my cubicle gave me added privacy, a rare thing in the military.
I don’t remember the dresser, but the photo says I had one of those, too. It was a degree of luxury not usually associated with US Army barracks at that time. The cubicle looks exceptionally out of order for the army. I did mention the 69th Signal Company (Photo) wasn’t, um, too big on things military, didn’t I….
Yep, I had on my army overcoat and nothing else when I made this “selfie” in 1972. Feelin’ good! Feelin’ good!
Post 472: the blahs
Cats need variety in their lives, too. Dougy and Andy are no exception.
Though they were eager players when I first gave them their “cat’s meow” toy for a birthday a year or two ago, they quickly learned they didn’t have to hop around like kangaroos and carry on like they were on speed the way the advertisement cats do! In fact, both lie down next to it to play with it…if they play.
I set it aside months ago when they showed signs of toy fatigue, but brought it out today on the chance it would be a fresh and fun toy again.
You’ve seen the post title. I suspect you know the result:
🙁
Post 471: waiting game
Andy woke up a bit more wily than usual today. I’ve tried to catch him unawares so I can give him his medicine, but…! That noted, I go into Phase 2: The waiting game.
I’m in no hurry to give Andy his medicine, but Andy is anxious to get the treats I give him afterwards. Devious, eh!? He’s stopped by my computer twice so far to let me know in his squeakiest “pathetic little kitten starving to death” voice that he’s prime for catching. Now, it’s up to me to be patient till he catches himself!
Let’s say I get in a rush, make a grab for Andy before the little cat’s “catchable”…. Yep, I add time to the eventual capture. Hours some days; minutes others. But more time.
A former pastor at my church talked about how he learned life lessons from the family cats, Large and Allegro, by observing and living with them. How true. Patience isn’t my forte, but I have to practice it if I want to catch my cat! Andy’s teaching me something about patience.
Speaking about the wee rascal, Andy is visible in the mirror. I can see him around the corner, by the front door. He’s exhibiting bored cat behavior: tail-chasing. He wants those treats. He wants them bad. He wants them…NOW!
xzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzxz
I got up to see if I could catch Andy by the door, but he anticipated my plan. Good move, Andy! Under the dining room table always is a good strategy!
This is going to be a long process today, I suspect. Andy is a suspicious little cat, and he has good cause to be.
Post 470: shadow of the past
My brother’s recent visit reminded me of this favorite photo from the early 1940s. In it, my brother, at play in front of our grandmother’s home, is less the subject than is the shadow of our father, who caught himself in the act of taking the photo. Accidental? Perhaps.
Post 469: Try it, you’ll like it!
One of the best parts of travel abroad or living in a country not your own is the opportunity to try food and drink you might not be exposed to otherwise.
I never became a fan of French stinky cheeses. (“If it smells like the floor of a stable, it’ll taste the same,” I’d protest!) Though I tried many foods I didn’t feel comfortable eating at first, most proved to be tasty. Calf brains…not so much! Yet squid, octopus, snails, and frog legs all were agreeable.
A lot of it is the skill of the person preparing the food, I know, but not knowing what something is helps, too.
No guinea pig for supper for me! They are too cute, and I love their little squeaky sounds!
Back here in Nebraska several years ago, my boss took the department to supper at a nice out-of-town restaurant. A variety of appetizers brought to the table disappeared quickly, especially one my boss told me was deep-fried mushrooms.
“More mushrooms?” he asked. “Sure! Those are really good!”
He called the waitress over to the table and pointed at the treat. “We’ll have more of these, please.” And I gobbled down several more when they arrived, aware that steak and lobster were the menu for the night, that I needed to save some room.
Then my boss told me the truth, “Those are turkey fries.”
I ate them only because I thought they were mushrooms, which I know I like! Yeah, turkey testicles, breaded and deep-fried, are pretty tasty, but I didn’t even need a passport to find that out.
Post 468: miscellany
Why not? So I took a photo of my left foot!
#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#
Kaiserslautern, 1971: You can see the Stadt Kaiserslautern Rathaus from the Beethovenstrasse apartment. It is a concrete (pun intended!) expression of the Kaiserslautern slogan of the time, “Was neues in West ist.” [“What’s new in the West.] A handsome, imposing building, it was built on the site of a castle overlooking the town. The citizens of Kaiserslautern are justifiably proud of this striking and modern building. Even after nearly half a century, it’s “lookin’ good”!
#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#?#
I had good grades in school so got to take Project English, an honors curriculum in which we studied the Transcendentalist writers of the 19th Century. It was heady stuff for 11th graders, and we were spoiled for life with the idealism and Puritan certainty of it all. I know. I’ve talked with classmates who’ve confessed to still having their copies of Emerson’s essays and the poetry of Emily Dickinson. It matched well the Zeitgeist of the 1960s.
evanescence
We had an excellent teacher for the class, but he fell ill. The substitute teacher (also very good) got to cover a section in which we learned about evanescence. To demonstrate the concept in a memorable way, she placed a rosebud in a vase on her desk. The rosebud had just one purpose: to evanesce! But it didn’t. 🙂
On the other hand, half a century later, I remember the experiment and the meaning of the word. Our teacher made the point, even though the rosebud experiment was a failure.
Post 467: the boys are back on routine
Andy and Dougy missed my brother when he left for home last weekend, but they now are recovered from the blahs that came with reduced play time and attention. I try to give them all the attention they want, but it’s impossible to give them the same amount as two or more people can!
Sunday, they were inactive. Andy was so lethargic, I worried about his health. “If you don’t look better in the morning, it’s to the veterinarian for you, buster!”
Andy spent most of the time between my brother leaving and yesterday sleeping or lazing on top of the blue carrier.
Monday, they were a more like themselves. Ornery.
This morning…whoa! Don’t stand in the way because they ran several foot races against each other, at top speed. “Kill the antelope” is the game, with each cat alternating between predator and prey. It is clear they are “back to normal”! That means they eagerly play when I get their toys out, enjoy “kill the antelope”, and find things outside the window very interesting.
“Do I have to play?” This isn’t normal Dougy behavior…!
Yesterday, Andy still spent a lot of the time on top of the blue carrier, but he was more engaged, watching birds out the backdoor. He also spent a lot of time watching birds out the dining room window since the neighbor’s bird feeder hosted scores of yummy-looking treats on the wing all day. Dougy even took to the window, chittering in excitement.
Andy reacts to birds outside the back door.
Dougy took his seat on the little red chair by the back door, a favorite bird and squirrel watching spot for both boys.
It’s great to have the household back on routine!
Post 466: Bastille Day…um…have a happy one?
From the land of revolting Republicans, I send a message to the land of revolting republicans: Happy Bastille Day! (Or whatever the appropriate greeting is for a day observing marking the start of republican France and the end of many fine, frivolous, and frou-frou heads….)
Let’s see: Bonne fête de la Bastille à la belle France, suggests one site, though they also note there is no particular greeting used. Curious.
What the heck is it about? Here’s a link that can help.
And what’s more French than escargot? Why, their bellicose and stirring national anthem, La Marseillaise, of course! I think it even out-bombasts the US national anthem, and that’s pretty bombastic.
Here’s a video with French and English side-by-side lyrics for a sing along.
Then there is the Hector Berlioz version. If you know Berlioz, you realize he went over the top then added 10 stories to an already kick-butt tune! Turn the volume up to “burst blood vessels” level for the full experience. Whew! The only thing he left out was a chorus of angels, but I’m sure the thought and possibility occurred to him.
Yeah, happy Bastille Day. Whatever!
Post 465: random hands and stuff…
Here we are. Back in 1971-1972 again! I took lots of photos when I was in the US Army because I bought Nikon cameras and lenses then and had to do something with them. 😉
I had a vase in my barracks room but nothing in it. I bought some flowers at the farmers’ market on Schillerplatz, and took this photo:
One of the military trips I took was Operation Tom Sawyer. A selected group of soldiers rode a rubber raft down the Rhine River. The purpose was a good will visit to NATO bases along the way.
The Rhine was full of the normal commercial water traffic. I remember little of the trip other than the guys in the raft got swamped by a barge, got dumped in the polluted water, but managed to get to shore. We stayed at NATO bases along the route (British, French, German) or slept on the bank. Fortunately — I’m a poor swimmer — we on the photo team didn’t ride in the raft, though that would have been the best place to get great shots.
At one stop, one of my team members and I saw this church door that intrigued us. When we were setting up this shot, a nun (with more right to use the door than we!) apologised when she arrived and needed to get in. Oops! In confused German, I assured her she wasn’t bothering us, and we held the door for her.
I note we were in our uniforms, so she might have thought we had legitimate cause to be there. Germans — and I don’t mean this to be snarky — tend to respect people in authority, something suggested by the uniforms.
The arm is army friend Tim’s. The staircase leads to Ralph and Deborah’s apartment on rue des Boulangers in Paris. The building was centuries old, though the apartments were remodelled.
Curiously, the toilet in Ralph and Deborah’s apartment was an honest-to-god American Standard brand toilet, a pleasant surprise considering some toilets you ran into in Europe still looked like this one I encountered in Greece. For the record, the hole on the left is for women and the one on the right is for men.
Hey, I’m from Nebraska, and I’ve used worse! This toilet is deluxe accommodations compared to some outdoor biffies you encounter in the country here.