Thank you for serving, now move along

Yesterday I posted an article I read from the Voice of San Diego to Facebook. Following up an earlier expose on the rejection of a housing project in Poway for low-income veterans,  it irritates me to think how my neighbors to the north look on themselves as a privileged class.   I think posting the original article is very instructive on the social biases of affluent people who often want the Government to do something to help people but NIMBY (Not In My BackYard).  Poway is home to large businesses, Defense contractors, and expensive homes.   Sadly, many of these residents depend on the military residents who pay taxes, shop in their businesses, send their children to local schools and attend their churches.  With land that is mandated for low-income residential use — home ownership and not a transient rental population is overlooked because of mistrust, ignorance and fear.   Is this just an unwilling city to put money where its mouth is?  When houses in the county average a half-million and condos $300K, what exactly does low-income veteran housing look like?

We Do Not Owe Them a House in Poway’
Posted By Maya Srikrishnan On December 29, 2016

After the Poway City Council denied a low-income veterans housing project in November, residents opposed to the project rejected suggestions that they were “anti-veteran.”

They are right. The opposition to the Habitat for Humanity veterans project had nothing to do with veterans.

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Thanks Pepsi, I’ll still drink Dr. Pepper

9c871-perfect-harmony
Coke: Nobody opposed singing  

One of the bloggers I follow posted on the recent Pepsi ad that features Jenner and scenes that bring up all the controversial issues in the USA today.  I appreciate reason and tolerance.   Some people are ‘offended’ by everything from colors to messages.  As a retired Navy Chief,  happily heterosexual man, a disciple of Jesus, and a California-born, social conservative, I probably offend some who have never met me.   Though educated by world -travel, technical and university scholarship, and nearly six decades of examining human behavior,  I lament the end to civility, tolerance, and nationalism.

The rub is to tolerate differing opinion – without shutting down the one who differs. That’s the real underlying message of the media and school programs which seek uniformity of thought along the guidelines they establish.  Pepsi and other companies, will test the wind and see that ‘inclusion’ is the marketing tool of today.

May I use pitbull dogs as a metaphor for the messages in that ad?   Some will hate that breed regardless of evidence.  If there are a million dogs that have some Staffordshire Terrier in whole or part, perhaps ten thousand have been exposed to dog-fighting abuse. Some people will examine each animal  individually, to see what they were exposed to and whether they can be placed with children or other pets.  Some want to exploit fear and doubt of the breed for power.   Some will see dogs abused to kill and maim as misunderstood.   Some will adopt pitties and then neglect them.   And if a community legally forces everyone to adapt by banning ‘pitbull’ ownership; by fining disobedience and by teaching that anyone who believes differently is maladjusted, can we still sing of “land of the free, and home of the brave”?

And so corporations – Pepsi, NCAA, NBA, and socialist governments- especially, the California legislature —  do not try to force my thinking or my life into your determination of ‘inclusion’.   While I will render to Caesar what is Caesars, I will not spend discretionary money on you.  I will follow Thoreau and Civil Disobedience.   I will join like-minded voters and oppose policies by the process we initiated in 1789 and worked well for 230 years.

Impressionable

When Al Qaeda terrorists attacked on September 11, 2001,  I was a 42 year old reservist; I was absolutely willing to go if called up.  One of my mentors while I was on Commander, Third Fleet staff (1997-99),  had been killed when the Pentagon was attacked.   While my unit’s signals analysts were mobilized,  as an electronics maintenance supervisor, I was not.   As the war continued, members of our larger community went into harm’s way and some died in combat.

While many young Americans today have been conditioned to think we are aggressors in many places,  they have no firsthand experience with people or places outside North America.   My peers and I have firsthand experience of the difficult, dirty, dangerous and often violent world people live in.  Twenty years ago, I had conversations and developed acquaintances while traveling around the Mediterranean, Bulgaria, Russia, Turkey,  Egypt, Israel,  Central America,  South America, and Asia.  Most of these relationships may have lapsed but people I know who still travel to those places know that the same struggles continue.   Every week we are witness to violence that occurs in the name of a religion or a faction that Westerners want to blame on secular causes.  Military members have been often marginalized by critics including academics and journalists for behavior or biases that may be exacerbated by tours in those regions.  I trust military service members understand  better than noisy college protesters and  Facebook ranters who complain from the comfort of the United States.

I’m first to admit that I don’t have boots on the ground exposure to the war in Afghanistan or Iraq.   My service in the operational theater aboard a Spruance -class destroyer occurred over 20 years ago following the combat phase of the Gulf War.  I was there when we launched 15 Tomahawks to destroy Saddam’s Intel center; it was retaliation for plotting to kill former President G.H.W. Bush.   But every IED, every homicide attacker against our troops and against civilians since the 1990s has been funded and armed, directly or through proxies, by the Iranians.  Some terrorists have used US arms we stupidly provided to extremists because the “enemy of my enemy is my friend”.  Today we are rejuvenating a relationship with the one democracy there – Israel.  Those politicians will not admit that just about every Islamic group we have given arms to in the past 40 years has at one time or another been used against civilians or against us.  When the terrorists were not Sunnis killing Shia or Shia killing Sunnis, they were blowing up soldiers, sailors, contractors, police and aid workers.  Only through constant training and force was any semblance of peace being fostered there.  And today, while we consider adding to the presence in that region, the entire Western European and Arab worlds are succumbing to a misguided and poorly implemented influx of refugees.   In the 1990s, we named the breakdown into factions and groups unwilling to assimilate into the culture of the host countries “Balkanization”.  This has certainly been seen to exist in many nations where the influx of Islamists have not assimilated.

Combat veterans have a unique position to support, refute, or respond to policies of the United States that engage us in conflict; however,   I think all veterans have a moral duty to protest when policies or bureaucrats fail to support those who returned from a conflict.   For more than thirty years, my friendship with a Vietnam combat veteran and scholar, whose acerbic commentary on all things involving politicians,  military affairs & particularly anything that can be ascribed to failures of the Republican Party – has continued as I respect someone who has been at the “pointy end of the spear”.   Another veteran, a retired USMC Colonel also has acerbic commentary, but would likely be diametrically in opposition to the other combat veteran.  This continues to keep me mentally sharp to engage in debate.

I hope to add my voice and watchful eyes to call the Government to account for many shabby incidents of treatment for honorably serving veterans.    I am hopeful that a website for combat veterans,  The War Horse,  started by a combat veteran of this most recent conflict will help veterans.   I have a son serving in the Army today and know that the culture in the military often puts the military family at odds with young people who have not experienced military service.    I am also leery of the biases and motivations of journalists and academics who generally have been critical on all things American, who now promote a combat veteran’s experience toward journalism and academics.    Yet I will add this to my reading list on conflict, coping with the aftermath, and the promises kept and broken by the nation that sent them to war.

 

 

Gunsmoke

What influence on your future career and life choices did neighbors , teachers or other mentors have when you were in high school?   I can only recall that my Junior and Senior year of high school were most influential in my future;  the first two I spent at a different school 1500 miles away from Tucson, Arizona.  Those first two were more of a battleground with a few toughs at school whom I eventually stood up to,  beat and embarrassed.

During the last two years I worked hard at school;  rode seven miles on my bicycle every school day so I could remain in the same district for my Senior year;  Being in Arizona, it was only proper for a city slicker to learn to ride horseback.   Before and after high school, i traded labor for riding lessons at a dude ranch near my home. I was more of a ranch hand in those days than many of the kids in their cowboy hats, big belt buckles and pickup trucks.   I learned to operate farm equipment and drive a jeep.   While I was eventually to find my career path in the engineering world, at that time I loved history, Spanish and French languages.  Some afternoons I visited a nursing home where my mom worked, spending time listening to the adventures of mule skinners,  WWI and WWII veterans.

Two of my favorite teachers were World War II  Army veterans.  One history teacher,  had been a driver for General Patton in Sicily.   Another, Mr. Davis,  spoke of military units and battles of the Revolutionary War as though he had been part of them.  But more interesting to me and to a few of my buddies,  is that he had a black powder shooting club; It was there that we learned to load, clean and shoot muskets.  As it was the Bicentennial year (1976), a couple of us were introduced to a group of enthusiasts who participated in both an Indian Wars U.S. Cavalry re-enactment group and those forming a Revolutionary War Connecticut militia unit.   Everything was period dress, arms, slings, powder bags and the like.  I never actually mastered the fife, but I kept that tri-corner hat for probably fifteen years.

It was so odd for me, two years later, when I enlisted in the Navy and was sent to San Diego for bootcamp,  that we NEVER touched a pistol nor a rifle for marksmanship training.    Only in the final weeks of bootcamp,  did we actually see rifles — ceremonial rifles – as my company was a Drill unit.  The ones who marched in parades, at football  game halftime ceremonies and the like.

Through a series of events, it would be more than ten years later in a second stint in the Navy, where I obtained military marksmanship training, qualified to shoot rifle, pistol ( 45 S&W) and shotgun as member of a shipboard Quick Reaction Force.  Since retiring from the military, the only shooting I do these days is with a camera.  But then, California would probably NOT license me for a 50 cal deck gun, and I have difficulty justifying 500 dollars for a plinking pistol.   Dear me,  I’ve become a liberal!

 

40, 7 and 2: lucky numbers

I moved my first attempt at blogging from Blogger to WordPress today.  My other blog  are observations of daily life mostly reflected in adventures and sometimes misadventures of my two dogs.   This blog,  Truths, Half-truths and Sea Stories,   I hope you will find entertaining and thought-provoking.    It is my second blog hosted on WordPress, and expresses more salty insight into daily events.

I retired in April 2010 ( 7 years ago),  after combined Active, Retired, and Inactive service of more than 32 years in the United States Navy.   I took my initial ASVAB aptitude test while the Vietnam War was all but ended ( 1975), entered bootcamp when Jimmy Carter was President (1977), and then re-enlisted into Active Duty after George H. W. Bush succeeded Ronald Reagan as President.  Since I retired as a Reservist,  I am eligible to claim a pension starting at age 60 ( 2 years from now).

 

 

Weekend Garden Warrior

Saturday was a fine day to relax. Some weekends relaxing mean an early-morning hike with my friends and the dogs. The dogs and I were a little out of sorts yesterday – I think they count the days between weekends knowing that Saturdays are the hiking day. But we had an appointment that morning so the hike was scratched rather than rushing through the park. 

 On other weekends, I try to straighten out my garage, or work on a list of projects, painting, putting up pictures, and sweeping the patio. With dogs, dog hair is everywhere, and in Southern California, dust coats everything so I HAVE to sweep every weekend.  I’ve considered buying a leaf blower to deal with this.   As I look at the bushes and trees, I start thinking I should buy a power trimmer or hire some professionals to get my trees and bushes cleaned up. 

Sometimes I channel wood-working and gardening ambitions to build stuff for the yard.  Last Fall it was a new gate;   the one it replaced was a decayed bit of fencing that I had for several months propped up with rebar, baling wire and metal posts.  For months I’ve kept the old wood in a back corner of the yard for a future project. 

Last weekend I worked in the front yard.     Rock roses, and tea tree, and bark made this area more ‘finished’.   I knew it was pleasing with all the new color when my wife joined me for a late-afternoon iced tea and magazine time on the front patio.


This weekend I built a raised bed frame for vegetables –  a pee-free zone.    I had marked off an area to create a vegetable and herb garden last year,  But it became a playland for the dogs.  I now have to get the soil, mulch and plants potted which is next week’s goal.  My next project – or somewhere on the top five in my list –  a dog run,  will take the place of the chicken wire.  It has nonetheless been effective-   fruit trees, bushes and some succulents have a renewed lease on life now.  But we are getting near that time of year to have friends over, so the wire has to go (soon).


The best part of these projects is the work with power tools, wood and planning and seeing  my ideas take shape.   At other times, with sinks backing up, cable TV losing picture,  or one of the cars develops a glowing idiot lamp, I know it will take more effort to solve.  Those things are not  horribly difficult – I work with troubleshooting electronics all week long – but  are particularly irritating when they occur late on a Sunday afternoon. 

Fortunately, my meter tells me the car trouble is an easy fix.  The sink clog was vanquished by a determine wife with Clorox, hot water and a plunger.   The dogs  are going amok — but not on the plants;   it sounds like coyotes are hunting in the vicinity.  Maybe they are coming to check out my garden.  Perhaps they will eat a few gophers – we have plenty to share with the local predators.   

I need to savor the moments I get to relax.  Tomorrow,  my work commute comes early And even a little dog-pee won’t make the commute nor my job any easier.

What is Your "Why"?

Leave it to an evangelist to publish positive messages and motivation on his FB feed.

At lunch I was looking online at social media, and blogs of people I follow.  One topic that captured my attention was that of failure and success, in that a person succeeds in not giving up after setbacks.  The world we live in is at odds at every turn it seems.    In a world that is wracked with suffering –  there are as many if not more – moments touched by God.  Look closely – a mother gives birth to quadruplets, it is national puppies day, a child rescues another from the clutches of a would-be kidnapper, and an elderly veteran wins the lottery ( the last may be more of a curse than a windfall but remains to be seen).    When the world knocks you down, and against the odds, you determine to stand back up and fight; a fight you will win if you know “your why”.

A Clear windshield is a $350 lesson in physics

I got a brand new windshield on Wednesday for my nearly-new 2014 Chevy Cruze.  Mind you, in the two years I  drove a  now 11 year-old car,  I never so much as chipped the windshield of the dented, faded-paint Ford while driving  it almost 45,000 miles.  In  42 years as a licensed driver, I have been fairly responsible (or just fortunate?).  A few cracked windshields and perhaps four major accidents in a million driving miles.  You see,  most of the time I drive paranoid – looking for the individual trying to kill me that day. In the picture here, my last car – I bought new and drove 150,000 miles –  over 7 years still  in excellent shape under the hood and body.  Then a gent in a GMC hit me at a stoplight going 50 plus MPH.   And that was how I came to drive the old Ford.

One Thursday evening two weeks ago,  I was almost home from work.  After a heavy rain all day, I was driving the Chevy on the freeway when a loud crack convinced me I had been shot at.   Road debris kicked up by a truck ahead of me (about a hundred feet) must have been responsible for shattering the windshield.  Driving with a cracked windshield taught me to look forward to my appointment. (How many cars get glass work? I may be in the wrong business!)

This morning I am looking up calculations for the safe-driving distance behind vehicles at various highway speeds.   I was too close by half the distance.  Safe is not what I think it is, rather it is what PHYSICS says it is.

And until I get complacent again,  I will be a safer driver.

Extending a helping hand to veterans

“The Chief will know what to do”  

Last week, I saw a news article about a WWII veteran here in California that was losing his home of forty years.  I had to help.  Today I started compiling a list of resources that may not be known to older veterans or their families.  Friends and relatives with long-ago wartime service,  recently in difficult circumstances have told me about programs that helped them. A resource list is provided here.  

Reader:  Please let me know of other help you may have received or suggestions to improve this list.   

Action speaks louder than words

It is the age of the “Like”, Emoticon,  and “re-post” and “Share”.   In the time of “Social” media,  the human race – or at least a portion of it – is so inundated with information there is little time to process it.   Given our busy lives, there is little time to physically interact with each other.  To remain sane,  we decide to filter out what is not beneficial or relevant to our situation.    I decided that I would remain interested in veterans’ issues,  dogs, cats and animal stories, and keeping up with old friends and extended family.

Yesterday,  I read a story that seized my attention.  A 92 year old, World War II B-17 pilot was losing his home of 42 years in an apartment building to eviction.    Apparently the new owner of the building was evicting everyone to do some remodeling and raise rents; this one tenant had been on a fixed rent through a few landlords and for many years because of his veteran status and long tenancy. It  seemed very unreasonable to me.  My grandfather had escaped conscription in the Soviet army during WWI, my other grandfather had been in Civil Defense in his native Ireland during WWII.  Teachers, mentors and friends had been in France, Italy and Germany as soldiers in WWII.  And I knew that one of the most dangerous occupations in that war was aircrew in B-17s.

I made a comment on the featured story on Facebook that something like GoFundMe should be started for this veteran, and this landlord should be pressured via social media.  At present, over 250 reactions from Facebook users indicated that this was well received.  I decided to ACT on my comment in the interim, by seeking information and reaching out via email. In a time when everything is potentially suspect, I did not want to start something that would prove to be either an old story or an urban legend.

And so I emailed the reporter whose story was picked up and repeated by social media.   And subsequently, I received an email from the family members of the B-17 pilot.   The gentleman was fiercely independent, but had accommodations with both of his children as a standing invitation.  This newsworthy story was prompted by them to inform others of the shabby treatment of veterans. Apparently, the city government was woefully unconcerned and had provided no help.  Bureaucracy is never motivated unless it is to promote themselves or increase their budgets.

After consulting other veterans advocacy experts, I provided the family members with some contacts and information available to support veterans.    And they were adamant that donations were not solicited but only the collective outrage focused into action for our nation’s population of under-served veterans.    That is the true sense of community,   Supporting those who served to defend us.  No politics, No discussion of the morality of war,  Simply for citizens to give back to the men and women who put their lives in harms way – or were willing to put themselves in harm’s’ way.