Frank Buckles passing

Frank Buckles, who lived down the road from me in Charles Town, West Virginia, died last Sunday. Frank was 110 years old, and was the last surviving American World War One Veteran. The US House and Senate passed resolutions to allow Frank to lie in state in the US Capital Rotunda, however these resolutions were blocked by Speaker of the House John Boehner.

During World War Two, Frank, a civilian, was captured and held as a POW by the Japanese for three and a half years. Still, John Boehner is blocking Frank from lying in state in the Capital Rotunda.

Frank received the World War One Victory Medal, the Army of Occupation of Germany Medal, and four Overseas Service Bars, but still John Boehner is blocking Frank from lying in state in the Capital Rotunda.

The French Government awarded Frank the Legion d'Honneur, but still John Boehner is blocking Frank from lying in state in the Capital Rotunda.

The British will send their Air Vice-Marshall to Frank's burial, but still John Boehner is blocking Frank from lying in state in the Capital Rotunda.

The French Government will send a Defense Ministry official, and plan to send two honor guards and pallbearers, but still John Boehner is blocking Frank from lying in state in the Capital Rotunda.

Frank Buckles was the last American survivor of The Great War. Over 65 million troops, from all countries, were mobilized during World War One. Of these, 8,556,315 were killed. Frank represents all Americans that served, indeed all those of every nation that served in World War One. This would include my grandfather, Burt Wiggins, and my grandmother's brother, George Alley. Still, John Boehner is blocking Frank from lying in state in the Capital Rotunda.

This does not in any way diminish Frank's accomplishment or his service to his country, or any of the millions of those who served, and continue to serve.

Thanks, Frank. I won't forget you.

January 18th Hike in Shenandoah National Park

On Saturday I hiked from the Meadow Springs parking lot on Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park (SNP) north to Mary's Rock. The view was spectacular, although it was cold and there was a lot of snow on the ground. On Monday I called SNP and learned that the Central District was open, but both the North and South Districts were closed due to snow and ice. I decided to give it a shot and planned to hike from the Pinnacle Picnic Area, about six miles from the Thornton Gap Entrance Station, north on the Appalachian Trail (AT) to the Bird's Nest #3 Hut. I had hiked up to the hut on Saturday, so this little stretch would add to my AT hiking goal.

On Monday it was supposed to be warm, around 50 degrees, and sunny. On the drive up Route 211 the views of the mountains were very impressive. The fog and clouds had obscured the view on Saturday, so I was happy to see clear skies on Monday. As I approached Pinnacle Picnic Area at around 8:30 AM, Skyline drive was covered with ice that had blown from the trees. Very slick. And I had driven up into the clouds. Fog was rolling over the mountain driven by strong winds from the west. When they say the weather changes rapidly in the mountains, they ain't just whistling Dixie. The change in elevation of only a few hundred feet resulted in a cold, windy and foggy start to what I had hoped would be a warm and sunny hike.

Shot a little video with the new Kodak Zi8 before I hit the trail, then swapped the SDHC card from the video to my still camera. I had planned to swap the card between the cameras as I hiked, but my hands were so cold that I decided I would shoot stills on the way out and video on the way back, only swapping the card once I got to the hut.

The trail was a devious white chocolate layer cake. The bottom crust of leaves topped with eight to 20 inches of snow, and capped with a heavy coating of curly ice blown from the trees. As I hiked the ice was flying off the trees and hitting me in the face. Sort of sharp, too. Because of the fog there wasn't any view. I slogged up the trail, slowly gaining elevation. As the trail skirted around to the east facing slope the trail was a little less snowy and the wind was less fierce. I was walking along a level stretch of trail when suddenly there was a loud booming crash. Sounded like a Civil War Reenactor's cannon going off. Birds took to the air. I didn't see what caused the commotion. I assume it was a large tree being blown over. I didn't hear a crack, just a boom, so the tree must have been uprooted and not just broken off. Does this answer that famous question? Well, I was there and I heard it, so I guess the question will go unanswered, but those birds definitely heard the tree fall in the woods.

Later as I was hiking along, minding my own business, I scared up a large bird. If I was back in New Mexico I would say it was a Prairie Chicken. It's flight was similar to a quail, but quite a bit larger. It was a very noisey get-off and I admit, it startled me. The remainder of the hike down to Bird's Nest #3 Hut was uneventful.

Once at the hut I was dismayed to see that the strong west wind had blown a lot of the ice off the trees and into the open west side of the hut. Everything inside was covered with ice and was soaking wet. Somewhere recently I had read that a used Tyvek mailing envelope makes a good water resistance butt pad for hikers. I had crammed one in my day pack, but hadn't had the opportunity to test it out. It worked like a charm. The envelope, folded in half, was the same size as my trail journal and fit nicely in the pocket of my pack. I was pleased to see that when I was ready to leave I could fold it so the wet sides were together and everything in my pack would stay dry. Whoever turned me on to this, thanks! You kept me from having a damp ass.

Switched out the SDHC card while sitting in the hut, then I was on my way. Not far from the hut I spotted a deer. Not unusual in SNP. Sometimes it seems like the whole place is a giant deer park, but the last several times I have been hiking I haven't seen any deer. Maybe they went to the lower elevations where they could find some greenery to browse on. As the trail switched direction and climbed up the hill I found that I was face to face with the deer. Shot a little video of the deer, who seemed entirely nonplussed. I couldn't have reached the deer with my trekking pole, but I would guess it was only two trekking poles from me.

The trail was back on the ridge, and at The Pinnacle I stopped to admire the view. The sun had broken through and the clouds were scattered. Very nice view. As I was gazing out over the valley another hiker came up the trail from the south. Nice to see I wasn't the only crazy person out there. Headed down the mountain, but now the trail was a little slushy and slippery. I stopped a few more times to take in the scenery. I also noted that the stretch of trail near the trailhead, you know, the icy part, had a pretty precipitous drop to the west. Good thing it was too foggy to see it when I started out. I also noticed quite a few deer tracks in my outbound tracks, so the deer had visited while I was out on the trail.

I am reasonably pleased with the Zi8 video camera. I still need to get a little practice in, but I think it will work out OK for my needs. I wasn't real happy with the audio. Close up it's OK, but if you get very far from the camera it is basically inaudible. I probably need to invest in an external mic. More crap to carry.

I had a great hike and even though it was only a total of five miles it was quite a workout. Burning thighs and glutes from slogging through the snow. The only part of me that got cold was my hands, and they were OK if I kept my gloves on. Another great day in Shenandoah National Park.

April 20, 1999

This is something I wrote nearly 10 years ago. Where does the time go? I thought I had lost it as a hardware failure caused me to lose lots of old documents a few years ago. IT Guys know you need to back up, but we also think data loss never happens to us, until it's too late. I found a printed copy, and here is what I wrote:

April 20, 1999

It's always raining when I drive to BWI. Eighty miles in the rain, cold and dark. What's with the spring break in April? Seems a little late to me. And why is he coming out here anyway? If it was me, I would stay in California. Used to go to the beach in April. Hell, we would go to the beach in January!

What's this costing me, anyway? A bundle. And just for a week? Can't he stay with friends? What about his cousins? He eats like a horse, too. Whose idea was this anyway?

Geez, there's always construction on this damn road. I'll probably miss the exit. Should have sent him a hundred bucks and told him to stay with his cousins. That would have saved me some money. Alright, got the right turnoff, construction and everything.

Well, the radio station is fading out. The news is too depressing anyway. I'll see what else I can find. Country; Country; Oldies. Hey, this sounds good: "Washington's favorite Classic R and B." Now I get to sing. Man, I haven't heard this for years!

I had to meet you here today
There's just so many things to say
Please don't stop me 'til I'm through
This is something I hate to do

What I lack in ability, I compensate for with volume!

We've been meeting here so long
I guess what we've done, oh was wrong
Please darlin', don't you cry
Let's just kiss and say goodbye.

I start to cry. All those kids. Their moms and dads, grandparents, friends; no one got to tell them goodbye. No one got to kiss them one last time.

I turn off the radio. After parking the truck I wander into the terminal. The monitors show that the plane will be 45 minutes late.

Must be the last arrival of the night. The concourse to the gate is already closed off and the lights are dimmed. I sit down in the large waiting area, where there are three TV's. Three different channels, but all the same story. Columbine High School. One TV has paramedics rushing a gurney to an ambulance. The sheet covering the person is soaked in blood. The next TV shows two girls talking wildly and pointing, extremely distraught, close to going into shock. The last TV shows a teacher; calmly, coolly explaining the situation, then she suddenly falls apart, sobbing uncontrollably.

The waiting area is uncharacteristically quiet. Everyone is watching the televisions, sitting as far away from them as possible. It's as if they were trying to distance themselves from what happened.

The quiet is finally broken by the public address system. The plane has arrived 15 minutes earlier than expected. Seems like they are trying to take credit for being 15 minutes early, when they are actually 30 minutes late. Bogus!

The passengers emerge from the darkened concourse looking like miners coming out of a coal mine; squinting at the bright lights, fatigued after their ordeal. At six foot five my son is easy to pick out. I walk over to him and give him a hug. "What's up?" he says, but his look says What the Heck are you Doing? I grab his bag and say "Let's go home."

Musings on Labor Day Weekend

Well, I made it through another Labor Day Weekend. This one was a little different, though. Thirty-one years ago on Labor Day Weekend my father died. He was 57 years and three weeks old. He had a massive heart attack while training for a swim meet. He was physically fit and a very competitive swimmer in his age group. His birthday was August 13 and mine August 12. As of this Labor Day Weekend I have lived longer than my dad. The tragedy and heartbreak of that day 31 years ago was only compounded by the fact that the happiest and most exhilarating day of my life occurred three weeks prior, on August 8, 1978, when my beautiful son, my first child, was born.

Once the shock and the feeling that dad left us too soon faded a bit, I began to think about dad's life. He certainly crammed a lot into those 57 short years. He and my mother nurtured two children to responsible adulthood, and saw his first grandchild. All of us should do so well. In my mind I see his smile and his clear blue eyes, taking the early flight off this planet, saying "My work here is done," turning the reins over to a new generation. He was never cut out to be an old man; it just didn't fit him.

When you lose a parent at a young age you think "I wonder if I will croak that young?" I made it this far so I need not ponder that point any longer. What's eating at me is have I let life get in the way of living? Oh, I have done a lot, including raising five wonderful children. But you always wonder about missed opportunities and things that you didn't do. Working hard to meet other people's expectations while allowing your own expectations for your life slip through your fingers. I have outlived my dad, at least chronologically. Now it's my turn to add to the fullness of life; to measure life in accomplishments instead of years. Even failed attempts at new endeavors add to the experience. It's all gravy from here on out.

About nine years ago my wife told me "You're not the husband I expected; You're not the husband I wanted." This was a surprise as well as a deep hurt to me. I have spent the last nine years attempting to live up to her expectations. I must be a slow learner. I have found that once you give up your own personal expectations and try to live by expectations defined by someone else, you will go no where. I found that no matter how hard I tried to measure up, I failed. Even when I met her expectations, those expectations changed, and I would fail in her eyes. I will not blame her. To thine own self be true, as Shakespeare said. I am the one that failed to set my own life goals and work toward achieving those goals. But now, I will no longer be measured by another person's ruler. I will determine my own life expectations and measure my own success. I fully intend to set my expectations higher than others would set for me, and those expectations will be more relevant to my own life. No matter if I have 30 or more years to tread this earth or 30 more minutes, success will be measured with my ruler from this day forward.