Why am a Spurs fan? It isn't just because of him!

 

I am 6"4", or I was at one time. He's (Victor Wembanyama) still growing at 7'4", but he's not why I am a loyal San Antonio Spurs fan. It isn't because Hall of Famer of Tim Duncan whose #21 jersey I am wearing. It is the Spurs organization that has made me a loyal follower for what they have done for the past 50 years.

I grew up a loyal Chicago Cubs fan and a pretty loyal Chicago Bears fan. I even rooted for the White Sox In the 50 years of the Spurs existence they have won 5 championships while the Cubs, Sox and Bears teams have each only won one. In the past 20 years the Spurs have had one coach. In that same time the Cubs have had 28 managers and fired the last winner. The Sox have had 19 managers and fired their last winner, and I think the Bears are on #12. Sure the Bulls have six championships but nothing since Michael retired and Phil moved to LA.

Still winning  isn't the only reason for being a Spurs fan. You could say it is mostly because of him or her and because of how they have treated us. 

I was at a game with Granddaughter Rachel because she had perfect attendance at school.  When she was 6 and 7 the Spurs or the Silver Stars(WNBA) gave her a free ticket to a game. Those tickets were up where the oxygen is rare, but I upgraded one so we could get a photo of the floor in the background.  Rachel held the Flat Stanley her cousin Tommy sent her as we tried to get it all in the photo. (Note Flat Stanley is also wearing #21). As we were on the mezzanine an usher asked if we wanted to take the photo from the floor! Yes the Spurs ushers are the kindest people. And that is not all.

At another game we again had nosebleed seats. As we entered the area, the ticket taker asked if we were alone. She said to go with the man wearing a  blazer and he took us down to the lower bowl for upgraded seats. That is how I became a Spurs fan for life!

So the Spurs have a winning tradition which has led to 5 NBA Championships under Coach Gregg Popovich. They haven't made it to the playoffs since 2019 and haven't won it all since 2014.  Yet Pop remains the coach.

The Spurs build teams over time and develop players. Yes, they have drafted three tremendous first round centers (Robinson, Duncan, Wembanyama), but they also developed very low draft picks into Hall of Fame players (Manu Ginobili and Tony Parker) and more undrafted players than I can count.

A Spurs player joins a family. From the first year the Spurs were in San Antonio, the players were taken to local gyms, food banks, libraries, and schools, and learned they were part of the community. The Spurs Give Back is the most appropriately named charity. They continue to do this whenever the team is in town. Coach Pop leads young men and lets them know they are more than athletes. That is why whenever a former player on another team comes to San Antonio the player makes a point to come and see and usually hug Pop. The Spurs honor the former players with a tribute video of their highlights before the first game back. All of the Hall of Fame players and many others still make San Antonio their home.

Scott recognized how much I love the Spurs. In 2022, in the middle of the pandemic, Scott bought me courtside tickets behind the Spurs bench.

Scott and I started attending many games last season. This year I bought season tickets for half of the home games. When he can't go I take Emily or Rachel or one of the fans from our Silver Sneakers class, where nearly everyone wears a  Spurs shirts to exercise.

Go Spurs Go! is the team slogan. Hurry back Coach Pop we miss your wisdom and humor, but thank you for making professional basketball into something to be admired for more than great athletes and winning records. You have taught your coaches well and we may be on our way to the playoffs again! 

 Hey Chicago, maybe someone will forward this to Ricketts, Reinsdorf, and McCaskey!

The three stooges were amateurs at screw-ups

 The three stooges were amateurs at screw-ups when compared to us.

Don and Paul and I have been fishing together for years. There have been very rare occasions when nothing bad happened, but that has not been the usual. Yesterday was another regular trip for us, the first  of the year.

Connie asked why we going when rain was forecast. I said we were only fishing in the morning and rain wasn't forecast until afternoon. I didn't take a raincoat and neither did Paul. When we stopped at Don's he had on a raincoat, probably because his wife, Pat, advised him on that. Paul borrowed a raincoat and I dug my emergency raincoat out of my boat tackle bag.

We have always tied the boat to the dock when launching. This is to hold the boat while we get in. Lately instead of just tying up, I have asked Paul to back the boat off the trailer before tying to the dock. Don and Paul always handle the boat tie-up while I return the trailer to the parking lot. Yesterday they decided to do something different.

Since it was the first trip of the year, the fuel lines were not connected to the motors. This proved to be a disaster as Paul and Don's new thing was to drive the boat to the dock and then attach the the ropes to the dock...except Paul couldn't figure how to attach the fuel line to the motor. Granted the 9.9 hp motor has a different connector than the 25Hp motor, and it certainly confused him. I didn't realize what was happening, but as I walked down the ramp toward the dock I saw this.

With a steady west wind Paul was a long way out with no fuel line attached. I tried to yell across the lake to tell him how to connect it, but he could barely hear me. As he drifted away Don told me they had decided not to tie up like they usually did. I kept yelling "it's the silver connection above the tiller"

Finally Paul figured out the connection and got the motor started and came in to pick up Don and me. This was, of course, my fault for not connecting the fuel line before going out. Somehow in the confusion the connection to the fuel tank was also reversed so we were also leaking gasoline. We got that fixed and finally started to fish.

The lake was really full of algae and we didn't have much luck. Eventually we headed for a cove and Paul caught a crappie. A while later I caught a bass, and Don caught a really nice saugeye.  

Don wears a nice Gilley hat which is an expensive fishing hat like the one Paul wears. We moved out of the cove into the wind and Don swore and said "My hat blew off". He also said "it should float", so I turned the boat around to try and fish it out. It was soaked. Note that Don is wearing my ugly emergency hat as a replacement.

Then it started to rain. It was only 10:00 am but obviously the forecast was wrong, again. We headed to the dock. I gave Don my keys so he could back the trailer in. As Paul and I waited we heard the usual car alarm and we both said "Don found the truck" because Don always pushes the wrong button.

As we waited for the trailer, I connected the 25 HP motor and eventually got it started. We had plenty of time as Don usually makes gets the trailer sideways a couple of time. I did snap a photo as he finally lined up the trailer. I shot a video of his attempts but it's too long for this feed.

So do you think we are the latest version of the three stooges? Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck!

Devils River in Texas with Scott

One of the pleasures of getting older is watching and participating as Scott takes the lead on adventures outdoors. This past fall, winter and spring, Scott has invited me to join him in fishing and kayaking adventures. Although my legs are not as strong as they used to be, I always accept the invitation even when I anticipate hiking will be difficult. I simply don't want to miss a chance to be with him, just the two of us. He always checks on his old man to make sure I am ok. I will share some of the kayak trips in later episodes. He has recorded several videos on YouTube under Scott's Lale-land Adventures. 

This trip to Devil's River was our last this spring. Scott researched the area and had me pack for hiking and fishing and cool weather. We started heading west of San Antonio on US 90 which parallels the US-Mexico border across Texas. The trip was supposed to take 3 1/2 hours. Our first stop was in Castroville for coffee and doughnuts. We had a great breakfast from a Magnolia Bakery in a converted gas station. As we continued west we made another pit stop at the Walmart in Uvalde. I snapped this picture of the names of children and teachers murdered at school less than a year ago.

After a long wait behind traffic accident we finally reached the border town  Del Rio Texas and turned north for 40 miles. We then exited the "hard road" for an hour drive down gravel roads to the park containing access to the Devil's River. The river flows from the aquifers in the Texas hill country and flows through the hill country to the Rio Grande.

From the park headquarters, it's another five miles down a gravel road to the parking lot which is another mile hike to the river. Fortunately Scott had us well prepared for this.

As we hiked the cliffs of blackened limestone came into view. The blackened limestone was highlighted by the still older limestone visible where recent rockslides have occurred.

The hike was long, but the cool wind kept us from overheating in this arid climate. The dry stream beds looked to filled with man made pavers, but they are the natural effect of rapidly flowing water, now gone. 

Finally we could see the river .

We found a couple of places to fish and caught a few small bass. The river was really clear but there were not many access locations. Maybe waders are needed there. We fished several spots and hiked along he river until the path became unpassable. We stopped for some selfies before heading back up the trail.

 

It was a four hour drive back to San Antonio an it was nightfall by the time we returned home. It was a great day together and I hope we can continue with more adventures in the fall.

 

Yakking with my son

 I am so old that trying new things seems pointless. I can barely do many things that used to be simple and enjoyable. When my son, Scott, initially proposed that I join him kayaking, I refused. I had several bad experiences on canoes when I was much younger. I figured getting closer to the water in a kayak was just asking to get drenched. He had purchased kayaks for both of his daughters and himself.

Scott persisted over the last two years. He also frequently took his kayak out fishing and was enjoying lots of success. The rivers around San Antonio are not large. They are more like creeks and are perfect for a small craft like a kayak. San Antonio doesn't get much wind either so the kayak shallow draft isn't much of a problem. 

Scott's kayak is sit-on not sit-in. His daughters have sit-in kayaks which require you to get wet. This last year Scott bought a bigger sit-on kayak because he got tired of "getting his butt wet". He did more exploring for places to fish that were not heavily frequented. He had really good results from his kayak exploring.

When we arrived in Texas, he again shared his desire for me to go fishing with him in a kayak. After hearing again about his fishing success, I relented and agreed to try. The first trip was on Columbus Day to New Braunfels on the Guadalupe River. This river is used by many for float trips, but this Monday holiday found it not busy. This was a good place for an old rookie to get his "yakkin" in.

Scott  put me in his new bigger kayak. I paddled around to get the feel. It wasn't too hard, but there was virtually no current or wind. We also avoided the rapids. We tried fishing but had no luck. It was successful in that I didn't dump the kayak.

This past Sunday, Scott took me on an adventure. He said he wanted to catch fish this time so we were heading to his most recent successful exploration. He had ordered me some water shoes to wear while kayaking. The "river" we were heading to was the Nueces River which was just outside of Uvalde Texas. Yes, that Uvalde.

We did go through part of the town, but it was a brief drive and didn't include any schools or the downtown area.  There were plenty of signs along the way, "Pray for Uvalde" and "Uvalde Strong".

Scott explained the Nueces River had at one time been the border between Texas and Mexico. This was before Texas was admitted to the union. He also said this river had several rapids we would need to navigate. We would start by going upstream. It also had a current. All of this would be a new experience for his slow moving and unstable father.

We put in and the first thing I noticed was the current was making it more  difficult to steer straight. It wasn't a strong current, just more than I had experienced on my  earlier trip.  We reached the first shallow water or "rapids" in a few hundred yards. I wasn't able to get through and was unable to pull the kayak up the rapids. Scott kindly told me to walk around and he would  pull both kayaks up stream. The water shoes I was swearing were no support on the rocks and I was barely able to walk. I struggled just to walk but I made it without falling. He parked my kayak and went back for his.

We paddled up to the next rapids, and again I had to get out and rely on Scott to drag up the kayaks. We reached the fishing area. To my surprise Scott said we were going to bank fish.

I threw my Texas rigged rubber lizard and had a fish on the first cast. It was a large mouth bass.

 The next cast was even better with a channel cat. Unfortunately it released its bowels as I took it off the hook.

Fishing got more interesting as I hooked two Guadalupe bass in succession. The second one was about 3 lbs. Guadalupe bass are a beautiful hybrid with broken lateral line and an spotted bellies. I have only seen them in Texas.

Not to be outdone by his father, my guide got his own Guadalupe.

We caught several smaller fish and were able to catch on multiple lures. I tired from standing and we eventually had worked the area enough that the fish stopped biting. The sun came out and the temperature rose so we decided to paddle home. Scott thought we might be able to float the rapids going downstream. He told me to follow him, but there was not enough water flow to get us over the  rocks. He rescued me again and took the kayaks through while I walked around. 

It was an enjoyable experience and I cannot thank Scott enough. Even if we don't catch fish, "yakkin" with Scott is a blast. I just might have to try this again. 

Fishing with my brothers

 The last weekend of September was a unique experience. Unique in that 4 of the 5 Laleman brothers were in the same location at the same time. This is a rare occurrence because we don't live in the same towns and we don't travel together. What is even rarer is that most of us were fishing. The last time 4 of us did that was the ill fated fishing trip that put us in the Shangri-la Hotel is eastern Kentucky (see Shangri-la  January 2016). 

Brother Jeff was able to join us for this adventure, but he doesn't fish, so Jeff drove the boat. Brother Steve, wasn't able to join us as he was with his family visiting from North Carolina and actually catching fish at his nicely stocked farm ponds. 

This adventure was planned by my brother, Tim. He wanted to rent a pontoon boat so my older brother, Ron, would be able to join in. Ron isn't as mobile as he was when our cousins nick named him "Two Shoe". Getting in and out of fishing boat takes some maneuverability and flexibility that is becoming becoming more difficult as we age. 

We originally planned this trip in June when all 5 of us could attend. You remember this past June, when the heat index  regularly reached over 100 degrees? We (that is Ron) said it wasn't going to happen in that heat, so I rescheduled for September when the weather would be better. Better weather includes cold and rain, but who's complaining. The pontoon boat had a canopy that two of us could fit under. One was the driver, Jeff, and the other was not Tim or me. So Tim and I got wet.

This adventure took place at Evergreen Lake, my favorite place to not catch fish. I don't catch fish there multiple times each summer, usually with my principal buddies Don and Paul.

We fished the area near where the pontoon was docked. This wasn't my favorite area to fish, but it was raining so we wanted to stay close. Tim is the "almost professional" in my family. I call him that because he fishes tournaments and even wins sometimes. 

Of course Tim caught the first fish.

I told him to hold it closer to the camera, but he didn't want to get too far from his beer. Correction, beer isn't legal on Evergreen, so I will call it his beverage. I struggled to get a selfie with all of us in the photo. This was the best of the 4 attempts.

The real purpose of this trip wasn't catching fish anyway. It was to hear stories and spend time together.

Jeff and Tim stayed outside of Secor in Jeff's elegant camper. Tim's search for area dive bars resulted in our attendance at the only business in Secor that wasn't a grain elevator. The name was significant to us because we had spent so much time fishing and goofing around at the drainage ditch on the north end of the farm where we were raised. We even commemorated it on the family reunion T-shirts we had made last summer. 

Fortunately Tim's son, Shawn, was able to join us for bar adventure and took our picture outside of The Ditch where the beer was cold, the pizza was good, and the waitress looked good with glitter on her tattoos.

This was a wonderful way to spend a week-end with my fellow Laleman boys. Maybe we'll do it again and get Steve (and even our sisters) to join us.

Closing In on my Second Happiest Day?

 I haven't written for a while what with COVID and all. This will hopefully capture what has been happening. 

The old saying among fishermen is "A fisherman's happiest days are the day he buys a boat...". I experienced that 19 years ago this week. You can read my blog post "Rick Buys a Boat" to see what I mean. 

Last year I finally decided that my truck deserved to stay in the garage space occupied by my boat for the last 18 years. I sought out boat storage. I was to find that storage for a boat the length of mine was not readily available in Bloomington. I did find a unit somewhat near home, but it was a very tight fit. If I put my boat in at an angle I could just squeeze it in, and then only if the motors where as far down as they can go. I thought this location was  good because I could back in even though the door width was almost exactly the trailer width. It was also on a slope. This proved fatal.

While removing the boat the first time, my truck  was on the slope above  the storage unit. This put the motor scraping on the floor. When I tried to raise the 25 Hp motor the power tilt barely moved and it squealed loudly.

 Don and I went fishing and then I stopped at the repair shop.  I took the boat into Erick, my boat mechanic, and he said I had blown the seals on the power tilt and it would need to be sent to Florida for a rebuild. He estimated the cost to be over $700 and said it would be a long time because the company was  very busy. With COVID, people were buying boats and spending lots of money for repairs. He took off the power tilt and said  I could use the motor, but not in reverse. The power tilt held the motor down and kept it in the water when in reverse. I didn't know this was to be a problem with trailering the boat as well.

Since there were no other storage units available at the first site, I started looking for another farther from home. I found one that was 5 feet longer, but it was not a straight shot to back into. When taking the boat to the unit,  the first time the 25 HP motor bounced off the motor support and hit the ground. It also bent the support. I was able to get it back on the support, but it was  badly bent. Fortunately the prop didn't hit the ground. The motor fell off two more times while heading to the storage unit.  Connie went with me and helped me put it in. When I went fishing with Don, I struggled to return it into the unit. After much maneuvering and some help from Don I was able to get the boat in the unit. This unit was also on a slope, but down hill. 

When I went to take the boat out I asked Connie to help since I couldn't see both sides of the unit in my mirrors. She was reluctant, but I assured her it would only take a few minutes to get the boat out. It was too tight to pull the boat out with the truck, so we rolled it out by hand. Unfortunately the downhill slope pulled the boat to the right wedging it against the side of the storage unit. We couldn't move it.

After more than 30 minutes trying to push it back by hand and with the truck I lowered the trailer wheel and was finally able to get it loose enough to get the boat out. Connie was not happy. I decided to take the boat home for storage. I tried different ways of securing the motor support and none of them worked. It drug on the ground and was badly bent again, but again the prop did not hit. I bought a full length mirror to prop up so I could see both sides of the unit from the truck. It didn't work.

The next trip out, I found the 25 HP wouldn't turn. Scott was with me and noticed the steering cable was kinked. We straightened it out and got some movement. It turned out to be a temporary fix. Back to Erik, who replaced the steering cables. $200 more and the power tilt still wasn't back.

In late July I was riding my bike past the old Eureka Williams plant  and saw an ad for boat storage. I  stopped in. Storage rent  was for 6 months rather than the standard monthly rent. Rent was cheaper than the other units and the storage space was large. It was shared with several large RV's and another large boat, but it was easy in and out. The salesman, a former student of mine, said I could use one of two bays off to the side. There was water on the floor, but he said the roof was being repaired. I signed a contract even though I would be storing the boat at home before the 6 months were up.

The first rain storm proved the roof wasn't fixed. Fortunately I had kept the boat cover on. I switched to another bay when I returned the boat. When the season was over I took the boat to be winterized at Erik's.  The power stilt was still not back from Florida. I took the boat home for the winter.

By the end of the season I had spent almost $1000  on storage units, another $500 on repairs, and was still on the hook for the power tilt.

Then came  2022. I returned to the storage place in April  and rented for the 6 month period. Writing a check for nearly $900 started making me reconsider the worth of boat storage, but I was already committed. By the end of the month, the power tilt was finally back. It was over $700. The weather in April was so cold, rainy, and windy, I never took the boat out of storage. 

The temperature quickly increased to over 90 degrees for several weeks. From winter to summer in a few weeks. There wasn't time to fish. When I did get a decent morning I would ride my bike instead of fishing. I went fishing only 2 times between April and July. I was also becoming aware that I wasn't confident in going fishing alone in the boat. Too many close calls made me only confident if one of my friends was available.

Then last week happened.  We got some cool weather and Don and Paul were available. I picked up he boat and saw the roof of the bay where I had the boat was leaking. I took the boat home because I needed to charge the trolling motor battery. When backing in the garage I felt something hit. I was Connie's car. I had knocked a trim piece off and it was sitting at 90 degrees.

I charged the trolling motor battery for a few minutes while I removed the trim piece from the car. Fortunately it came off in one piece and was not broken. I knew I would screw it up if I tried to replace it. I decided to not try and charge the starting motor battery because it had been fine on the last trip.

When I picked up Paul, then Don, I told them this looked like it was going to be one of those days.

When I put the boat in the lake I did it without help, as Don and Paul were trying to figure out how to put on the life vest I loaned Don. I had tied the rope to the dock so it would keep the boat at the dock as I backed the trailer in the lake. As I pulled out the trailer, the rope caught under the rear bunk and snagged under the water. After some back and forth Don was able to get it loose.

When I walked back from the parking lot, I could see Paul was struggling with stating the motor. When I got to the dock, I could see the starter wasn't working. The starting battery was dead. All of us have bad shoulders, but Paul decided he could pull start the 9.9 HP we were going to use. Eventually he got it started and we fished for a couple of hours. We only caught fish late in the morning. I was concerned because the wind came up, and the boat is difficult to put on the trailer in the wind. What worked best is to use the larger 25 HP motor,  but that is almost impossible to pull start. Then Don caught his line in the 9.9 motor. We couldn't use the 9.9 either.

We didn't have enough battery to use the trolling motor all the way back. So we used the wind to drift back towards the dock. We used the trolling motor to make adjustments, but the battery was getting weak . Finally we asked a guy who was just going out for a tow back to the ramp. It was difficult maneuvering to do this in the wind and we never did get connected for a tow. We continued to drift in and got close enough to  dock.

I had a spare set of battery cables in my boat storage. When I bought the boat, the owner had used the cables to connect both batteries when the trolling motor battery was dying. I hoped I could use the little remaining trolling battery charge to start the 25  HP.  After several tries and many pumps on the fuel line, the motor turned over. A couple more tries and it started!

We loaded the boat and headed to lunch. When I got home I pulled both batteries out of the boat and hoped I could get them charged. I also removed Don's line from the 9.9 propeller. I put the boat into a different , hopefully dry, place in the storage building. We have had 2 big storms this week.

The batteries are  charged up, but the hygrometer shows them to be very weak. They are $100 each to replace. It's too hot to fish until September. I found out I can rent a boat at the lake for $75 a day. I am really thinking I am at the point of pursuing my second happiest day.

"A fisherman's two happiest days are the day he buys a boat and the day he sells it!"

A 50 year old story

 This is how I remember it.  I was teaching in Albany in my second year. I had recently received my  "Greetings" letter that said I was drafted into service. The letter arrived in February, but contained a note that my induction was delayed until after the current school year was over.

The letter followed a year long effort by myself, my superintendent, assistant superintendent, principal, parents, banker, a pastor from a church I didn't attend, and others to try and keep me teaching in Albany. All that had failed. The prior summer the  chair of the draft board told the superintendent, "He's had his deferment"

In spite of this we were still trying to get pregnant. We were uncertain about the future, but we had wanted a baby since we were first married. In April, Connie had a doctor's appointment. I clearly remember her coming into our house with a big smile on her face. We were going to  have a baby.

Then I began to worry about medical bills. We had insurance as part of my teaching job, but it would end in August. The baby wasn't due until January. I was going to have to pay the full  insurance premium. Back then, if you didn't have insurance when you got pregnant, new medical insurance considered pregnancy a "pre-existing condition" and wouldn't cover any of the expense. I was too stupid to ask if the military covered  the pregnancy.

Connie wasn't showing when I left for the army in June. We decided she should go live with her parents while I was gone. Although this wasn't what she wanted it helped me to know she would not be alone. I took basic in Fort Lewis Washington. Her daily letters and my Sunday phone calls let me know she was handling the pregnancy well. Still I missed all the early part of pregnancy.

Our biggest worry was Vietnam. It was still waging, but we all knew it was a lost cause. I didn't want to go. I thought it was pointless to give your life for something so worthless. I even considered Canada, and we talked about it on more than one occasion. Connie was willing to go as well. I decided to wait. The infantry, who did the fighting,  trained across the parade field, and Fort Lewis was a major departure center for Vietnam.

In the final weeks of basic training was rifle qualification. I had struggled to shoot accurately because of my inability to sight with my right eye. I was unable to close my left eye to sight the rifle. My only solution was an eye patch or to tilt my helmet over my left eye.

With rifle qualification came a week-end pass. Connie planned to fly out to spend the week-end with me. Unfortunately, I failed by one target. No pass. Connie had to cancel her flight.

A clerk came to speak with those of us that had been drafted. The army would decide what our military job would be. Supposedly this was based on the tests we took at the beginning of basic, but it was mainly based on need. The army needed infantry soldiers in Vietnam. The clerk's role was to give us some options. One was to enlist for an additional year to get a job that wasn't the infantry. I considered enlisting to becoming a missile specialist. The missiles were in Europe, but it was an additional year. The clerk said we might be assigned to truck driver training. I decided to wait and see what happened.

Two weeks later, rifle qualification was scheduled for those that failed earlier. It was a Saturday morning and I qualified. I would receive a pass for the remainder of the week-end. I decided to fly standby and try to get to Chicago. I called Connie to meet me there.

I arrived in O'Hare in the late afternoon. I had called her Dad with my flight number, but Connie was already on the way. Her Dad had her paged at the airport to let her know. I walked off the jetway towards the terminal, not knowing where we would meet. As I walked up the terminal, I walked right past Connie and didn't even recognize her.

In my defense, she had cut her hair, was wearing glasses, a new dress, and was showing. I had never seen her with glasses or short hair, or pregnant. I was dressed like every other soldier on the flight, had lost about 35 pounds, and had short hair. Still, she recognized me first. We hugged cried and headed for a motel. I had to leave early in the morning to get back before my pass expired.

On the flight back, I sat next to an officer who asked me where I was headed. When I told him I was on a weekend pass, he told me that passes were for a 45  mile radius from the base. Oops, the 1700 miles I traveled was against regulations. Fortunately he didn't turn me in.

I finished basic and was assigned to Military Police training along with a number of draftees who had also been teachers. We were flown all the way across the country late at night and arrived in Georgia in the morning where the workday was beginning. 

Vietnam was still looming. We were all trying to figure if we had to go. MP's were in Vietnam trying to manage the prisons and the draw down. Each week a new cycle of trainees graduated and we listened carefully where they were being assigned. The week we arrived, the entire class went to Vietnam. The following 7 weeks, no classes were sent to Vietnam. Most were optimistic .  I thought the cycle would hit us and we were going to Vietnam. Connie was ready to head to Canada. We decided to wait and see.

After graduation, the entire 250 man company waited for assignments. If your name was called you were to get a urine test. It meant you were going overseas. Names were called out alphabetically to get the test. The First Sergeant called out the names, "Kramer, Krapkowitz, Lindberg, Murphy...." I was skipped.! There I was standing with only 15 other soldiers. Everyone else was going to Korea or Vietnam. Unfortunately most were Vietnam.

I called Connie as soon as I could get to a phone booth. I was to stay in Fort Gordon,  Georgia and she could be with me. Later I flew home for a 2 week leave. 

In September, we packed our Fiat station wagon with almost everything we owned and headed to Fort Gordon. Now very pregnant Connie had to endure the long drive in a very small car. As we were driving, the radio news said there was a riot at the stockade in Fort Gordon, Georgia and that part of the prison had burned. I didn't know that would effect us later that fall. 

 We were not sure of the best route and ended up driving down the mountains in the dark. It was very frightening. We wound down the eastern continental divide with no place to stay in sight. Finally after midnight we entered South Carolina and found a small motel, the Magnolia Inn. The clerk was from the Midwest and took pity on the exhausted couple. The room had a coin operated radio and vibrating bed. The towels were full of hair, but it was a place to sleep.

We arrived at our rented trailer the next day. The following morning I reported to my company and Connie was left alone to settle in to our new home. The baby was due in about 3 months.

After 6 weeks as a patrol MP, I was told to report to the stockade. The inquiry into the riot had determined that too few MP's were assigned to the stockade. As I sat with a group of other low ranking MPs, we were asked by the sergeant if any of us could type. At first I didn't volunteer. Then he repeated that he needed two people who could type. I raised my hand.

I was assigned to the front office of the stockade. There I would stay for the duration of my service, Vietnam still loomed everyday, but I had options.

On a Saturday in January I had to report to the office. We had an upcoming inspection, so the entire staff was to report to make sure we were ready. Before I left, Connie's water broke. We rushed to the hospital and she was admitted. The doctor said she wouldn't deliver for several hours and that I should go home. I decided to go into the stockade office as it was closer to the hospital.

I got the call in the early afternoon. Connie was going in to the delivery room. I arrived but couldn't see her. At 3:15, military time 15:15 on January 15 our baby was born. We had expected a girl, and had a girl's name all picked out. Our baby boy was a surprise. We had discussed Spencer, but decided on Scott.

He was all red from a rash. The doctor was using him as a case study. The military treated the new mothers like soldiers. They were in a ward with little privacy. "Mothers get up and go get your babies" was the call in the morning. We also found out the military would pay for every thing except Connie's meals, about $5.00 a day. Our bill for his entire delivery and care was less than $20.00.

50 years have passed. I assume some of my memories are not accurate as that happens more and more. The feelings are accurate. I still can feel the fear we had, the joy and relief and the love.

Thank you Connie for putting up with all of this and more and making our lives better. Thank you , Scott for being. Happy 50th!