Thinking about my Mom....

It has been 30 years since my mom died....I wasn't there for her illness and I wasn't next to her bedside when she died. Do I feel guilty about that? Yes I do but there's nothing I can do about it....then or now. She died way to young (61) and there are so many questions I would love to be able to ask her but alas, she took her secrets with her....like we all will do some day.

Mom and Dad at wedding

I have written about this in prior posts to this blog but I really didn't know much about my mother. I know almost nothing about her childhood or her teenage years. I know almost nothing about her college days or the courtship of my dad. I know very little about their early life together and quite frankly, I know very little about her up till the time she died. She held everything very close to the vest...I'm not really sure I knew the real Jeanne H.

I do remember her temper, I do remember her humor (somewhat), I do remember her stand-offishness (a lot!), I do remember her vindictiveness (somewhat) and I do remember many other adjectives as well!!

This short little blog will highlight three memories (not in any order) of her that will stick in my mind  forever.

Early picture of my Mom

Very early picture of my Mom

My mom had a temper....we didn't see it often but when it came out, it really came out. I can remember one time when my mom was baking in the kitchen. She was baking pies and she was baking more than one so my guess is that she was baking for some cause or maybe the church at the time. I was young so the details are sketchy. I remember all these pies on the counter with cans of whipped cream all around. My dad walks into the kitchen and says something to her. In their younger days, my dad liked to tease my mom but most of the time my mom didn't have time for his nonsense. I was a kid so I thought it was teasing but who knows, it could have been so much more.

Mom and Dad on vacation

Anyway, my dad walks in and says something to my mom....the next thing I know is that my mom grabs a can of whipped cream and sprays my dad and starts screaming at him. He then grabs a can of whipped cream and starts spraying her and he begins to yell. Now they are chasing each other around the kitchen, spraying each other with cans of whipped cream. My mother runs out of whipped cream first so what does she do, she grabs a pie and throws it at my dad. He then grabs a pie and throws it at her....now, they are running around the kitchen, throwing pies at each other....then my mom opens the refrigerator and starts throwing anything she could get her hands on...all the while, screaming at the top of her lungs. She is screaming, GET OUT.....GET OUT.....and when she starts throwing the pots and pan, my dad makes a hasty retreat. I remember her falling to the floor crying but what I remember the most is that I had to stay and help clean up the mess......and what a mess it was!! I assume they made up but there always seemed to be a lot of tension between my mom and dad, at least when I was young.

Mom in red at one of their 100's of parties

The second incident that I remember vividly happened in San Antonio. We lived in a very nice neighborhood with big homes and manicured yards. Almost everyone who lived in the neighborhood had household help that came to work on a daily basis. Remember, this is San Antonio..so cheap, household help was easy to come by. We lived on a corner lot with a very large tree right at the very corner of Rockhill Dr. and Vandiver Rd. At that corner, there was a bus stop. In the late afternoon, around 5 pm.....all this household help would get off work at about the same time and gather underneath this tree (trying to find shade) waiting for the downtown bus to take them back to their side of town. My mom didn't like them gathering under this tree because they were killing the grass and they were leaving small bits of trash, cigarette butts and the like. She went out there a few times and ask them to move, but of course, she didn't speak Spanish so they pretended not to understand her. This went on for a long time until she decided to put a sign out by the tree, asking them not to gather....well, of course that didn't work so guess what she does!.

Mom at far left at another party

We had an automatic sprinkler system at this house so what my mom would do was wait until there was a pretty good size crowd of people under the tree waiting for the bus. She then would go on the back porch and manually turn that section on and the water would drive the "squatters" away. I really think she got a lot of pleasure doing this because she started doing it every evening. She eventually set the timer so that the sprinklers would come on every night on that section only. Finally, after many complaints by the bus passengers, the city moved the bus stop to the next corner. I'm sure she felt that she had won.

Mom on right at yet another party

The third memory I have written about before but didn't mention the reason. My dad bought my mom a Nash Metropolitan car. This was in Baltimore. She and I were coming home from somewhere when the snow and ice was starting to gather on the streets. The car was a stick shift and was new. My mom knew how to drive a stick shift but this was the first one she had had in a long time. All her earlier cars were automatics. Anyway, we were about a mile from home and the roads were getting very bad. She started to drive slower and slower just because she wasn't use to driving this very light car. The other cars were starting to stack up behind her and where really starting to get aggravated with her slow driving. These cars started to pass her and as they did, they would blow their horns.....she got so pissed that she started cussing them out and flipping them the bird. She did this one time to many and when she took her hands off the wheel to shift and flip off at the same time...she lost control and we went off the road, over a curb and down a large hill into the woods. I remember her being so mad, but at the same time laughing her head off. She asked me not to say anything to my dad, and of course I didn't. We were both fine and the car suffered no damage.  

Mom and me in Williamsburg

My mom was a character and I only wish that I had known her better. My sister spent more time with her, especially in her later years after my dad died. I know she has some good stories to tell.


























 

...And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead ...part 2

I'm sure that everyone has a memory or two that haunts them. Something that you experienced and that has lingered in the back of your mind, making you ask yourself...."what if....". I, for one, have a few of them. How would my life have changed if I did, or didn't, do this or that. But, like I have always said....that's water under the bridge....you can't change it so why let it dominate the way you live your life. Move forward, keep it in your memory as a reminder, learn from it and move on with the rest of your life!!

Like I said, I have a few memories that make me, from time to time, ask myself ..what if?? This is the one I have had the longest and may be, in the long run, most profound.

I mentioned that I graduated from MacArthur High School in San Antonio. The graduating class was over 1200 seniors. Out of the over 1200 seniors, only five were admitted to Trinity University in the fall of 1964. Remember, I only went to class my senior year of high school for less than half a day so I really didn't get to know very many of my classmates. The other four who were going to enter Trinity, I only knew casually. After our freshman semester began in the fall of 1964, the parents of one of these kids hosted a reception for all five of us that were accepted to Trinity (in their mind, it was a big deal). I was invited by the parents who were hosting the reception and I was also reminded about it by the other four students. I elected not to attend. I really didn't know the four other students very well and I'm sure I was busy doing something else. After the reception the four students headed back to Trinity to attend a function that was going on there, a freshman dance I think. They all were in the same car. The easiest way to get back to Trinity from where we all lived was to go through Brackenridge Park that bordered the East side of the campus. There was a shortcut off Broadway that ended up right in front of the girls dorms. It was a twisty and winding road with lots of old trees lining the way. For no apparent reason, other than speed....the car carrying these four MacArthur students hit a tree, killing them all instantly. If fate had taken me in a different direction, I WOULD HAVE BEEN IN THAT CAR!!  I heard the news in the very early hours of the next morning. A friend of mine at Trinity called me to tell me what had happened. I remember hearing his words but the impact of what he was saying didn't hit me right away. After a while, it started to sink in and it hasn't left my mind since. Yes, that was a moment in time that I will never forget.

The next two incidents involved airplanes. After I went to work at OTASCO, and after I was made a buyer, I started traveling a lot. Most of the travel involved flying. I loved to fly!! I had been flying since I was 5 years old. My parents would put me on a plane with a BIG name tag pinned to me and send me off to Columbus by myself to stay with relatives. I remember the stewardess' taking really good care of me, letting me sit with them during take-offs and landings. I also got to go up into the cockpit and visit the pilots....a very big deal for a 5 year old. I still think I have the collection of "wings" that I was given on each trip packed away somewhere.

My first experience was in the mid 80's when OTASCO would send some of the office people in Tulsa out to visit the stores. It was called Operation Contact and we would drop in on our stores unannounced just to see if they were following procedures. I won't go in to all the details but needless to say, it was fun and got us out of the office. On one of these trips, we took our corporate plane to Little Rock and from there, divide up into teams and headed out to visit stores all over Arkansas. I was on a team that was going to visit stores in Southern Arkansas and West Memphis. That meant we would fly a "puddle jumper" plane (usually a very small plane that held from 4 to 6 passengers, including the pilot). We would land in some very small airport somewhere and the Supervisor of the area we were visiting would pick us up and drive us from store to store that was on our itinerary. Well, we were flying along when all of a sudden there was a loud bang and the plane filled with smoke. We were over pasture land and we had to make an emergency landing. Yes, I'll admit, I pee'd my pants. The pilot found a small farm road to land on and after circling it once to make sure there were no cars or livestock on the road...we made our landing. Yes, I was scared but then again, when the plane touched down...I felt a calm. Anyway, the pilot called for help. After a long wait, the Supervisor for the area arrived and we continued on our way. We ended up visiting all the stores on the schedule, only missing two. Before the first store visit we stopped by a small variety store and those of us who needed to, bought some new underwear!!.

The one thing I learned from this is that my Prudential life insurance policy DID NOT COVER, non- scheduled air flights. When I got home, we had our insurance agent add a rider to our policy. Why somebody didn't think about it ahead of time was beyond me but hey, live and learn and we had a good story to tell!!  By the way, it was the air conditioning compressor on the plane that exploded and burned up....didn't find that out for a week or so after.

The next experience was on a Delta flight from Dallas to Atlanta. I was going to visit a factory just outside Atlanta. The pilot came on just before landing and said he was having some trouble with the brakes on the plane. An indicator light had come on warning the pilots of a potential problem. He told us all to prepare for a rough landing. I had had rough landings before so I kinda knew what to expect. The plane touched down and I knew by the speed, we were slowing down but I didn't feel the brakes grab. Next thing I knew we had skidded to the end of the run way but the plane was OK. They sent buses out to pick us up...That certainly got the day off to a great start!!

My last close call with checking out was the weekend of my son's wedding in 2004. I was driving up on a Saturday to attend the rehearsal dinner. While I was driving, I was pulling into Enid when I felt a bit dizzy. I pulled into a McDonald's to get a bite to eat and go to the bathroom. When I went into the bathroom, there was nobody else there. When I finished, I turned around to wash my hands and passed out and collapsed to the floor. I was out briefly but when I woke up...I stood again, but in just seconds, I passed out again. I finally made it out of the bathroom and into the dining room. I called one of the workers over and ask them to call 911. She said she would have to ask the manager. What the f**k!!. Anyway, the manager came over and I ask her to call 911. I was feeling very ill and I knew I needed some help. Fortunately, Bass Memorial Hospital was just down the street. The ambulance came...loaded me up and took me to Bass. To make a long story short.....I had a bleeding ulcer in my stomach that I was unaware of. I lost about a third of my blood. I wasn't able to make it to the rehearsal dinner but the doctors released me on Monday for two hours so I could attend the wedding. It wasn't until much later that I found out how close I was to bleeding out. Just another twist of fate.

Well, I have a couple other stories about close calls and twists of fate but they are not so dramatic. If you count these, I think I listed 8 near misses and they say a cat has 9 so I best hold fate off the next time!!

...And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead

I'm not really sure why I'm writing this other than I promised myself that this blog would be about memories I had that were vivid enough to remember in detail.

Most of us, who have lived a long time and were subject to lots of travel or who put themselves at risk probably have stories on how (except for the grace of God) they could have easily taken themselves out of the gene pool. I realize that people in the military or people who have super hazardous jobs face death every day, but us civilians who lead normal lives and don't put themselves in harms way, don't really expect to experience something that might kill us.

I received an e-mail the other day, stating all the things we did as kids and survived...you all have seen those types of e-mails and it got me thinking of the times that if circumstances has gone in a different direction...things could have been totally different for me.

The first episode that I remember happened in Florida. In the mid to late 50's my dad was a partner in the ownership of the Ocean Grand Hotel in Hollywood Florida. Since he was a minority owner, we, as a family, would drive down to Hollywood for one of our yearly vacations. This was a hotel but it also had 8 apartments attached. My dad would reserve one of those apartments for about two weeks for our vacation in November...usually around the Thanksgiving holiday. My dad would play golf and my mom, sister and I would hang around the apartment and just play or relax on the beach. I remember one day climbing into a little blow up plastic boat and going out into the surf. Playing on the beach without supervision was a big no no but hey, it was in my nature to disobey. Our apartment was right on the beach...the surf was maybe no more that 100 feet from the apartment's deck. Here I was in this little toy boat and the surf started taking me out to sea. I could swim but not that well and I really didn't realize how far I was getting away from shore. I kept drifting out and out and out. My mother noticed that I was getting farther out in the surf and she was getting uncomfortable. She ran out into the surf and tried calling me to come back in but there was no way I could paddle myself against that surf. My mom went out into the surf until the water was up to her neck and she realized that there was no way she could reach me. Fortunately, there were life guards on the beach and we had a tower not far from the hotel. I guess the lifeguards noticed me getting farther and farther out about the same time my mother did. The lifeguard had a "longboat" or rescue boat next to his tower. He and another lifeguard paddled out to me and pulled me and my little blow up boat into the longboat. They brought me back to shore and to safety. They told my mother that the surf had taken me almost a quarter mile out. If fate had gone in a different direction....I would have been gone.

Actual picture of boat

Just before the incident

me playing in the surf

My second close call was in Wilmington Delaware. I was playing sandlot baseball in the field behind my house. All the neighborhood kids played baseball and we played all the time. We built a baseball diamond right behind our house in a huge field. My best friend at the time was Michael C. We all chipped in to keep that field nice and clean and mowed. We used it almost everyday in the summer time. Even some of the dad's built us a backstop...that's how cool this field was. We couldn't afford to buy real bases so we used big rocks to designate first, second and third base. One day we were playing and Michael was batting. Michael was bigger than me and weighed more. Michael hit a ball to the pitcher, I was playing 1st base. Michael ran full speed into me while I was trying to catch the ball. I caught the ball at the exact same time as Michael reached first base. Our heads hit with a thud and that's all I remember until I woke up a while later. Someone ran to my house to tell my mother and she and another neighbor ran out to see if I was OK. I was out cold but this is what I was told. When Michael ran into me, his head hit mine and knocked me out cold. When I fell, my head hit the rock that was first base and cut my head wide open. By the time my mother showed up, there was me on the ground, eyes rolled back in my head and blood everywhere. My mother and the neighbor got me back to my house and mom called the ambulance. They got there, woke me up, checked me out and sent me to the hospital. The doctors told my mom that I was very lucky because the jagged part of that rock just barely missed my temple. If it had hit me just right....my days would have been over. The silver lining was that our parents bought us real bases for our ball field!!

not us but could have been

Let's see, incident number 3 happened when my dad took me sailing with a friend of his who had a sailboat. This friend had a home on the Severn River...just north of the Annapolis Navel Academy. We sailed from the marina just north of where the Severn River empties into the Chesapeake Bay.  The day was a bit overcast but not that bad and  my dad loved to sail whenever he could so he wasn't going to cancel out. This was not a large sail boat but it was a nice one. The guy my dad sailed with was a purest, meaning that there were no engines on this boat. You did what you had to do by sails, rudder and wind only. We headed out into the Chesapeake Bay and of course we were at the winds mercy. We heard on the radio that there was a fast storm approaching and it looked like we were going to get caught in the middle of the bay when the storm hit and sure enough, that's what happened. The storm was upon us instantly and the wind really picked up. It tossed the sail boat all over the place. My dad and his friend were afraid that I was going to get washed over the side of the boat. Both my dad and his friend took off their belts and lashed me to the main mast (yes, I was wearing a life preserver!!). That way if the boat tipped over or a big wave hit us, I wouldn't get washed overboard. Finally the storm passed and a patrol boat from the academy came out to see if we needed any help. We said no, they unbuckled me and that was that. I'm sure my memory of this makes it much worse than it really was but it's one of those memories that is burned into my brain. I have always wondered if lashing me to the mast was the smartest idea but since I made it through...it's just water under the bridge.

My next near death experience was with my other best friend Jim C. I met Jim at Trinity University. Jim was an only child from a very wealthy family. Jim is the one whose grandparents owned a 25,000 acre ranch north of San Antonio in Comfort Texas. When I met Jim, he was finishing up getting his pilots license. As a graduation gift for passing his solo flight test, his grandparents bought him a small plane. A Piper Cub or something like that. He had his solo license and asked me if I wanted to be his first solo passenger he took up. I said sure, why not!! He kept the plane at his grandparents ranch so on a Friday afternoon...we drove up to Comfort and hopped in the plane. His grandfather had a small runway built so that Jim could take off and land easier than trying to land on the dirt road leading to the farmhouse. Anyway, we both had been drinking (just a little, mind you) and off we went. We took off and headed east toward Canyon Lake. Canyon Lake was just in the middle of being filled so Jim liked to fly over it just to see what it was like, seeing a new lake being filled up. So off we went. I made the mistake of eating just before we took off and along with the alcohol, my stomach was not in the best of shape. Jim got over the lake and decided he was going to scare me by diving this little plane towards the lake surface. If his intent was to scare the bejesus out of me, he accomplished it. I also made a contribution to the floor of the plane as payback. He did not have any barf bags available. I didn't think about it at the time but later on, I started thinking...what if the engine had quit or some other mechanical mishap had occurred. I would have just ended up a memory. It scared me at the time but not enough not to fly with Jim in the future. I must admit, we had a great time flying around in his plane. I have other stories about Jim and his plane but I'll save those for next time.

This is almost identical to Jim's plane

I also remember another incident with Jim and his grandparents ranch. Sometimes on weekends Jim would invite a few friends up to his grandparents ranch just to mess around and do some hunting. Now, I'm not a hunter but I did like to drink and play poker so I usually went up at the first sign of an invitation. I remember one night, after some drinking, Jim and a couple of the other guys thought it would be fun to get into one of his granddad's old farm trucks, take a couple shotguns and head out into the fields to chase jack rabbits. Jim would drive with the headlights on and when he spotted a rabbit, he would try to chase it with the truck. There would be two guys in the bed of the truck, leaning over the cab, trying to shoot the rabbit when it appeared in the headlights. Believe me, the rabbits were never in any real danger!! On those weekends, we were NOT the sharpest tools in the shed!!. I was riding in the passenger seat, holding a loaded shotgun straight up with the safety off and my finger the trigger. It didn't even enter my mind that my finger was resting on the trigger. We were bouncing from furrow to furrow chasing this stupid rabbit when we hit a bigger bump than normal. My finger squeezed the trigger, firing the shotgun inside the cab of this truck. Talk about something that really sobered us up in a hurry. None of us were hit...the main part of the blast went into the roof of the cab but later, thinking about it....scared the hell out of all of us!!

I will continue this in part two of this blog. It will include a fatal car crash where I should have been a passenger (this is the one I think about most often)...two incidents on airplanes while working for OTASCO and the weekend of my son's wedding.

To tape or not to tape.....my unofficial job and facing the unexpected

In my last post, I talked about my three jobs while I was in school. I delivered furniture, I worked in a hobby shop and I was on the assembly line making ammo boxes for the military but there was a forth job that maybe took more time and led me down a strange path than all the other three put together....and I was working for myself. Most of you will be to young to remember what I'm getting ready to talk about.

It all started out very innocently in the mid-60's when a Muntz stereo store opened on Broadway Ave. in San Antonio. If you wanted to make sure your car would stand out, you had to have three things...cool wheels or wheel covers, tinted glass (not like what we have today) and a cool stereo system. Before Muntz came along, all you had in your car was a radio. Earl Muntz invented the first tape player for the car. It was a stand alone 4-track tape deck. You would hook it up, usually under your dash board and connect to you OEM speakers. If you were really cool and had the money, you would get a custom installation and get an upgraded speaker system. Most kids didn't have that because it was so expensive but at least they could afford the deck.

Of course, I had to have one of these cool 4-track decks as soon as I could so I went to the Muntz store to get one installed. The deck played specially designed 4-track tapes....the forerunner to the cassette tapes that all of us remember. Yes, for you purists, there was an 8-track developed that put an end to the 4-track and it came before the cassette. The 4-track tapes at the time could only be bought at the Muntz store so it was like the razor blade/razor style of marketing. If you bought the deck, then you had to come back to Muntz to buy the tapes...a least for awhile.

One day, my buddy Jim and I were in the Muntz store when they were putting on display a new Muntz model #330. This was a 4-track tape player/RECORDER and a record turntable all in one package with speakers. What you could do now was buy a blank tape, put it in the machine...put a LP record on the record player and tape the record to the 4-track blank. Well, it was cheaper to make your own tapes than to buy them so the cost of this combo package could be justified. This model #330 cost almost $400, a lot of money back then.

 I looked at Jim and he looked at me and we both had the same idea...let's buy this machine, make these tapes and we would have the latest albums on tape long before they ever hit the market in 4-track tape form. When the record companies released the new LP's, they waited to put it on tape because most record companies did not think that this new tape playing system would last. They thought it was a fad.

 I was making good money at my jobs but I didn't have $400 so I waited for my dad to come home that night so I could ask him if I could borrow the $400 for this tape machine. I promised to pay him back within 6 months. Since my dad was in electronics and understood the value of what I was asking for, he went ahead and loaned me the $400. He made me sign a contract promising to pay him back in 6 months. If I did get him paid back in the allotted time, the loan would be interest free, if not, then I would have to pay him interest on the whole $400. He was trying to teach me a life lesson here.

Well, I went to the store, bought the unit and some extra blank tapes. The first record I remember recording was the new Paul Revere and the Raiders album. I taped one for me and one for Jim. I also taped the Beatles and Rolling Stones newest albums at the same time, for both of us. Well, that Friday night we headed to the Frontier Drive-In, our local hang out. Of course, we played our music loud and we wanted to show off our new custom made 4-track tapes. I remember playing the Paul Revere tape in Jim's car...he had a tape deck too...when some of our friends walked over and ask, how did we get the new Paul Revere album on 4-track tape already. We told them that we taped it ourselves. Little did we know that night but a new job was born. Some of our friends asked us if we would make tapes for them. Initially, I said no because I didn't think I had the time and I wanted Jim and I to be the only ones with the latest music on tape. We thought it added to our popularity and somehow made us cooler than we already were...something way more important to Jim than me.... because he loved the girls and he was a good looking dude...a surfer type that had all the girls hanging all over him. Jim was fun to be around because he thought he was God's gift to women, and by the looks of all the women around him....he was.....and since I was his best friend...I was cool too (only by association!!). Even my sister thought he was "cute".

 Well, over the next couple of weeks, we got lots of requests to make tapes for all of our friends...they were offering all kinds of things, including money, for us to make tapes for them. Everybody wanted to trade for something...car parts, free labor, money of course, just about anything and yes, even drugs. You have to remember....hard drugs were not yet on the scene in the mid-60's (at least not in our group). There was LSD, marijuana, mushrooms, peyote, mescaline and other assorted "soft" drugs. Of course, the girls also had their own special talents to barter with. It got so bad, that these girls boyfriends would ask them to do us "special favors" if we would make them some tapes. IT WAS STARTING TO GET CRAZY!!.

After all this craziness, Jim and I decided that hey, why pass up this opportunity to make a little money...let's start making tapes for our friends but lets set some ground rules. We decided that we would only take cash payments for the tapes we made or we would barter for things that we knew we could easily sell...car parts, records, anything other kids would buy. We also decided that we would not take drugs or girlfriends as payment. Both were way to dangerous to get involved in. Just a side note here...Jim's sister worked for the San Antonio District Attorney so we had to keep our noses relatively clean.  

 Well, we started making these tapes, the more we made them the more we would be asked to do. Unfortunately, our friends would tell their friends and their friends would tell their friends and on and on it would go. Before long we were making tapes for all kinds of people. We had such a high profile that the San Antonio police, the Alamo Heights police and the Terrell Hills police were watching our every move. We couldn't drive up and down Austin Hwy or Broadway without police cars following us around. Did it look like we were dealing drugs, yes it did since we were selling stuff out of the trunks of our cars. But the police knew what we were doing...it was legal (kind of) and we even had some policemen buying tapes from us.

This whole thing was getting out of control. We had our friends, friends of our friends, people we didn't know, soldiers (remember, Jim's father was Commanding General at a very large military base), WAC's, kids from the South Side of San Antonio...people from everywhere wanting us to make tapes and offering us tons of stuff to pay us with. Eventually, these people got my telephone number and my parents address. We had phone calls and front door visits at all hours. My parents were getting fed up plus our garage was filling up with all kinds of bartered stuff. Finally my mother put her foot down and said no more. She was tired of all the late night phone calls and front door visits from people none of us knew...especially if I wasn't home. I would stay up all night, every night from about 10pm to 6 or 7am recording as many tapes as I could...I could usually get 10 to 12 made in one session.

There is a song lyric in the Beach Boy's song "I Get Around"....that says...."the bad guys know and they leave us alone". That was so true for us. The bad guys left us alone because they wanted us to make tapes for them. At one point, we knew every bad guy on the Northside of San Antonio and even some Southside bad guys.

 Here is just one of hundreds of examples of us getting asked to make tapes. Jim and I were in the Frontier one Saturday night in Jim's car. This hot conversion van pulls in...all tinted up so you couldn't see inside. This beautiful woman gets out of the passenger side. She had the most amazing figure, wearing a halter top, short shorts and CFM heels. She walked over to our car and ask "who is Andy_____?" I said I was and she asked me to come over to the van and talk to her boyfriend. I asked if it was about making him some tapes but she wouldn't answer me, just come over and talk to her boyfriend (btw, this kind of stuff was happening to us all the time). Jim and I proceeded to get out of the car when she told Jim to stay put, just me. I really didn't like not having my back up with me but since I was in a drive-in where EVERYBODY knew me and EVERYBODY was watching me...I thought, OK...I will be safe. Anyway, I walked over to the van to the drivers side window and this guy rolls down his window and tells me to get in on the passenger side. I entered the van...closed the door and proceeded to see a FULL GROWN LION in the back seat of the van. I was scared shitless but this guy assured me it was only a pet and everything would be alright. He went ahead and ask if I would make him some tapes and I proceeded on as if everything was normal. He was willing to pay me more than my asking price because he wanted a bunch of tapes made and he was in a hurry. By the way, this guy turned out to be the largest supplier of marijuana in South Texas. He also became a good friendand one hell of a customer (and hey, I wasn't going to tell him no!!)...at least until he went to jail. Yes, he did offer me the opportunity to sell drugs for him because he saw and knew of my now huge customer base. He was willing to pay me a ton of money but I said no thanks...I wouldn't even do referrals for him...I really wanted to keep him and his friends at arms length...I was happy in my little corner of the world. This was just one example of the many strange experiences that Jim and I had during this time of making tapes. I could be anywhere in the city and because both my car and Jim's car was so recognizable...complete strangers would walk up to us and ask if we were Andy _______ or Jim _______. What a weird position to be in.

I want to mention here that Jim and I had another real good friend. His name was Big Jon. He was 6'4" and weighed over 300 pounds...he was all muscle. Not only was he our best friend, he was also our protection. Nobody would even think of messing with us, whether Jon was with us or not. Jon played football for Texas A&M and got drafted by the Dallas Cowboys but he was in a horrible auto accident and could never play football again. I wish I could locate him now!! I have really tried to reconnect with both Jim and Jon but to no avail. I have found some other friends off of Classmates who remember Jim and I and our time in the late 60's. I'm hoping they will add some of their memories of all of our times together.

I could probably write a book about this whole experience. Needless to say, this whole thing got WAY, WAY, WAY out of hand so in about 18 months, we decided to shut it down and go back to how we started. We just bought the current album, made a bunch of tapes off that album and proceeded to sell those tapes out of the trunk of our cars on Friday and Saturday nights.

OH YES, I PAID OFF MY FATHER IN LESS THAN 30 DAYS!!!!!!!

A Working Man's Hero....Jobs When I Was Young

My sister and I were incredibly fortunate!! I cannot speak for her but as for me....I NEVER remember wanting for anything. I'm not saying that my parents gave us everything we ever wanted but on the other hand, I don't remember ever asking for something and NOT getting it. That could be due to the fact that we never asked for much.

I was lucky in the fact that I did not have to work while in high school or college. The funny thing is that even though I didn't have to work, I worked all the time, especially in college. In high school I only had two jobs and I did both when I could. First, I help my father by working in one of his warehouses. I don't remember ever getting paid but then again, I received a nice allowance every week. For that allowance, I did what my dad ask me to do, either at his business or around the house. Cutting the grass, painting, taking out the garbage, washing the cars, just odd jobs. None of it I really considered as work. I did take a job in Baltimore that I have already talked about. I worked in a Johnny Unitas' bowling alley. I did not have set hours...I just showed up when I could...usually after school and on weekends. I was just a gopher but I really enjoyed it. I think I got a little pay but when times were slow, I could bowl for free and eat at the lunch counter for free (great hamburgers at bowling alleys by the way!!) and if the Pro wasn't busy....he would give me free lessons. I really wished I had been able to work at one of my dad's country clubs....I would have loved to be a caddy or just work around the pro shop. I had the opportunity once but I was doing something else and had to turn them down.

Once we moved to San Antonio....my work changed. I did not work my senior year of high school/college but in the summer of 1964 that all changed. I worked because I wanted to. I remember both my parents telling me that I did not have to work because they both wanted me to spend the time studying (yeah, right). I was in college now and getting through college and getting a degree was all that mattered. Like I said before, I was a good student and was smart. Early on in my college career, I just had a hard time focusing....having fun took precedent.

MY CAREER AS A FURNITURE DELIVERY GUY

I met a guy who was a bit older than me. His name was Clem and he came from a very wealthy family. His family owned a chain of restaurants around San Antonio and also owned two furniture stores. We met through our love of cars. He drove a Corvette and a Shelby Cobra. He would drive into the Frontier Drive In and we would gather around the car that he was driving at the time. We all became friends, even though his friends were older than me and my friends. This would eventually lead to some interesting experiences. Anyway, Clem was the black sheep of his family. He wasn't disowned per-say, his family just gave him what he wanted and told him to stay out of their way. Clem ALWAYS had lots of money, pretty girls and fast cars. One night, I was sitting in Clem's Corvette and he asked me if I wanted to have a part time job. I said sure, even though I didn't need one, but what I needed was the extra money. Like I said, Clem's family owned two furniture stores and Clem was in-charge of and made all the deliveries. He wanted to know if I would like to help him deliver. I said sure and that really was my very first official job. What was fun about that job was that we got to deliver furniture to all the wealthy families in my parents neighborhood, along with Alamo Heights and Terrell Hills....all three very expensive neighborhoods. Making deliveries, especially when you get to enter someone's home can be very interesting. It always amazed me what state of dress or should I say undress, women would answer the door and allow you to enter. I did enjoy some very interesting sights. Remember, Clem was older than I was and there was a time or two where Clem would send me out to the truck to wait for him....he would emerge 15 to 30 minutes later and it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was doing. Yes, there were a few lonely housewives out there. Clem always said it was a "perk" of the job. I didn't mind because when he did something like that, he would always come out hungry and we would get to stop by one of his family's restaurants and eat free. That was MY perk!!  Moving furniture was a good way to stay in shape. I was really a skinny kid. My first year of college, I weighed about 135 to 140 and was 6 feet tall. Moving furniture was just the thing to help me bulk up. It seemed liked Clem knew everybody. He was nice enough to consider me a friend and he introduced me to all sorts of people....something that would come in handy a couple of years later.

MAKING AMMO BOXES FOR THE MILITARY JOB

I also was employed making ammo boxes for the government. I spoke about this little adventure in my last blog so I won't repeat my self.

THE HOBBY SHOP

I was a very good model builder and was always building model cars. I also was very good with an airbrush. There was this one hobby shop that was family owned not far from my house. I use to be a fixture in that place always buying my model building supplies. One day in the summer of 1966, the owner asked me if I wanted to work there. He said he would pay me so much an hour and give me a discount on what ever I wanted to buy. Well, I thought this to be a dream come true so I said yes. All we had to do was work around my college schedule. I ended up working in this hobby shop until we moved to Oklahoma City. What a great job it turned out to be. It wasn't long before I knew just about every male, young and old and many in between. That was back in the days of Slot Cars and almost every kid and his dad had a slot car track at their house. I became an expert on slot cars and what made them go fast. I use to build my own cars and race for money.

 I didn't know it at the time I started working at this hobby shop but it turned out to be WAY, WAY more that just your run of the mill place. I always wondered how the family who owned this hobby shop could live such a grand life style. Big house, nice cars...everything!! Well, it didn't take me long to learn that this hobby shop was into so much more than just hobbies....and no, they were NOT selling drugs...even though the owners oldest son was eventually caught selling drugs on the side. We were all questioned but it turned out that the son was acting on his own......I knew everybody and I didn't even know about him. He kept it well hidden.

To understand this story...you have to understand that there were 7 MAJOR military bases in San Antonio, mainly Army and Air Force bases. There were literally thousands of military guys stationed at these bases. All these guys (and gals) worked hard during the week and always seemed to have a lot of free time. Many took up the hobby of building models, especially models of the things they were use to like jeeps, tanks, armored carriers, and airplanes...jets and prop trainers. They would come into the hobby shop and want to buy the plane or tank they were trained in. Some didn't want to take the time to build the models...all they wanted was the finished product. I went to the owner of the shop and asked him if I could build and paint these models for the customers and get paid for it. Here is what we agreed upon. If the customer bought the model from the hobby shop, then I could build and paint the model and charge him a certain price. The owner did not take a cut of my labor. I agreed that I would build and paint models for the shop to sell to walk in customers and the owner would pay me a flat fee. This worked perfectly for the both of us. This hobby shop was also big into model trains and antique trains. So I got into building and selling scratch railroad cars and engines. I also got into restoring antique model trains. I could do all this at the shop when times were slow. I had my own work area where customers could watch me do my thing. I kinda became a semi popular tourist attraction. One of my best customers for model cars was a guy named Ricci Ware. He was the most popular radio DJ in San Antonio at the time (he is still around I think), plus he was a stock car racer on Saturday nights. I turned that friendship into all kinds of things. I was always trying to find ways of promoting the hobby shop. Not only was it good for the shops business but it was good for mine. I would talk Ricci into displaying his race car in front of the hobby shop on Saturday, before the race that evening and talk about it on his radio show. Every once in awhile, he would make a personal appearance and sign autographs. We also sold models of  Ricci's race car along with his autographed picture. The shop got a cut, I got a cut and Ricci got a cut....we all won.
Ricci would talk about the hobby shop on his radio show and he would always mention me as the go to person when they visited the shop. It gave me some attention and people got to know me. I also got permission to go onto the military bases and leave fliers and a newsletter I created, advertising the hobby shop and everything we offered. I talked the owner into expanding into hobbies that he had not been in before, especially hobbies for women. All these military guys would come in on weekends with their wives, girlfriends or both, and we had nothing for the women. We added art supplies, Decoupage supplies, picture framing supplies, the forerunner to scrap booking and all kinds of stuff like that. During my time at this shop, we expanded the location three times. I even went so far as to add model making and model painting classes to the mix on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I would bring in factory reps from the model companies we dealt with and have them put on demonstrations. I didn't realize it at the time, but this would end up training me for a profession I would have for the next 40 years.

I did wonders for this "little" hobby shop and I was rewarded very well. I got a piece of a lot of the action. I got to meet all kinds of people....even some famous ones. Ben Crenshaw, a famous pro golfer, lived in Texas at the time and was both a model builder and antique train collector.

I also got to know Perry Bass, the Texas oilman and father to the famous Bass brothers of Dallas and Fort Worth. Perry Bass was also an antique train collector. People would bring their antique train into the owner of this hobby shop to sell or appraise all the time. We bought and sold antique trains all over the world. When the owner finally saw my value, he put me in charge of the hobby shop which gave him more time to concentrate on his first love, the antique train business. Remember, I was a full time college student at the time...not a great one, probably because I had all this going on.

 I could go on and on about the hobby shop...we got into all types of things and maybe I will expand in a later blog.

Needless to say, I made hundreds of friends, I was a local personality and I made a ton of money. I bought my first Rolex watch at the age of twenty....here I was, a twenty year old kid, walking into a jeweler and paying cash for a brand new Rolex watch. My son is now the proud owner of that watch....I gave it to him right after he graduated from high school. I hope he knows how much it meant to me.

I also had a side job that made me more money than I could ever have imagined. It was part time and I had to do it in my spare hours which I didn't have many of, EXCEPT between 10pm and 6am. I will write a special blog dedicated to this job. All I will say here is that it made me some money, it brought me into contact with a very unique group of people and it raised my profile much higher than I ever wanted it to be or was comfortable with. So until next time...thanks for reading and being a loyal blog follower!!

My college career....The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

Since my last post covered most of my college career....I thought I would just finish it up while it was fresh on my mind. When I say college CAREER...that's exactly what I meant. I turned a four year college degree into a seven year adventure. My last post about the draft, highlighted many of the reasons.

Like I said before, if you were a male between 18 and 26 and you were around from about 1966 to 1972...the military draft weighed heavily on your mind. As it turned out, I went to college for a number of reasons. First, it was expected of me..my mother and father were college graduates, all my grand parents were college graduates and even my great grand parents had a higher education. Of course, I went to college for an education and man, did I get one. I went to college to meet the "right" sort of girl but in the mid to late 60's the "right" sort of girl really didn't interest me....except one. I went to college to attend "better" parties. High school parties were OK, but hey....you have to say that if you were a party animal....there were no better parties than college parties in the mid to late 60's. Even though I went to college in San Antonio....if we got a whiff of a good party somewhere else...off we went. We had lots of money, we had cool clothes, we drove nice cars and we knew how to have a great time....plus, for a guy....I was a great dancer. Remember, my dancing ability came from when my mother sent me to dancing school way back when. I also attended a male finishing school....my mother went all out to make sure I had all the tools to succeed. While in San Antonio...we attended parties in Austin at UT, Houston at Rice and the University of Houston, at Texas A&M in College Station, in Dallas at SMU and TCU in Fort Worth...in Denton at North Texas State and the BEST party school of them all...Texas Woman's University in Denton Texas. There was no better place to party than TWU...where the ratio of women to men was about 99 to 1. If we had to skip school on a Friday to get to a party....we would. That's why, when we set our college schedule, Friday's were always a light day and classes were ones we could easily skip. I also attended college to legally avoid the draft....a big deal to some of us in the late 60's.

OK, most of my college career has been documented in my last blog. Let me say here that I was a very good student, I was smart..I scored very high on both my ACTs and my SATs. I took both tests more than once just to see if I could out score myself and I did. Even though my sister and I changed schools about as much as you change clothes, I kept very high grades. I enjoyed school...I maintained at least a B+ average all through grade school. I think I only missed two or three days of school for all the twelve years I attended and those were because of our parents taking us out for one reason or another. I can remember only one sick day and that's the day that JFK was assassinated. The one thing I lacked was discipline...and as I was soon to learn...discipline was an essential ingredient when you entered college.

I started out at Trinity University. At Trinity, you had to declare a major before you started. How the hell did I know what I wanted to be at 18. I picked Geology..and you want to know why....because the guy that lived across the street from us in San Antonio was a Geologist. He had a big house, a beautiful wife, two expensive cars, lovely furniture, a boat and a beautiful pool in his back yard with a huge deck. That's the criteria I used to "pick my major". Was I ever going to make it  in Geology at Trinity....HELL NO!!. I remember getting B's in my first two semesters of Geology but when I entered the first semester of sophomore Geology, there were only 5 students in the class. The professor, who was, by the way, a Doctor (almost all professors at Trinity were Doctors in their field...very intimidating!!) said on the first day....there are five students in here and I grade on a curve. There will be one A, one B, one C, one D and one F. I turned to my friend and said....do you want to be the D or the F. I dropped the class the next day and there went my career as a Geologist!!.

I dropped out of Trinity after the third semester. I entered SAC or San Antonio College. SAC was a community college and I was very successful there. I maintained a B+ average but it was only a two year school. I took all kinds of classes just to stay in school. Remember, if I was not in school full time, I would be subject to the military draft. SAC was pretty uneventful. By now, I had a full time job plus I was doing something on the side that was making me a lot of money and some interesting new friends. I will be writing a blog about my various jobs while I was in college but that's for another time. Since SAC was a community college...there were not a lot of parties but I had maintained most of my Trinity friendships and I was still included in all the "must attend" parties around San Antonio. Rich kids parties if you will.

I must admit that girlfriends were scarce at that time. Did we have girl "friends"....yes we did but as the Beach Boys said in one of their songs.."We didn't go steady cause it wouldn't be right, to leave your best girl home on a Saturday night". That's the way we thought. I did meet a girl at SAC that I was very interested in. Remember, I was a smart alec, egotist, thought I was better than everybody else except my close friends...all in all, a real asshole. But around my friends (who were also real assholes...yes, even the girls), we thought that was just normal. The girl I met at SAC was named Claire. I won't mention her last name. She was a beautiful girl...She looked a lot like Michele Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas. Her dad was a very well known, respected Doctor in San Antonio. They were very wealthy and lived in a very expensive area of San Antonio at that time..Alamo Heights. For some reason, she showed some interest in me. Remember, I was moving more and more towards the counter culture. I had no idea why she was interested in me. Later I found out that it was my "bad boy" image and she was rebelling against her father...a very strict person. We dated some and I took her to some of the parties I attended. She was a sheltered girl. She was an only child to a dominating father and a socialite mother. She was going to SAC to get her first two years in at home, before she would head off to some girls school back east. She was fun and we had a great time. I think the reason I really liked her was that when I knew her..she was rebelling and wanted to be part of that group. She would have me pick her up when she knew her dad was home. He hated me and I really didn't know why....I think when she fought with her dad, she would tell him things about me, and us, to just infuriated him. Anyway, she loved the "bad boy image" and we lasted about a year off and on.

After I had taken about all the classes I could at SAC....I had to find a four year college. I was still trying to avoid the draft and at the same time, get an education. That's when I entered Southwest Texas State University in San Marcos Texas. As mentioned before...after I enrolled, I found out that this school was 100% cowboys and cowgirls. I was well into my counter culture hippy stage and found out quickly that cowboys and hippies don't mix. Since there were more of them than me, I dropped out after about two months. The only redeeming factor at SWTSU was the girls in tight jeans and boots. I think there was where I learned to adore great asses on girls in tight jeans.

After dropping out of SWTSU, I was flying blind. I was out of school, I was legally dodging the draft, I was working and just having the best time. I still had all my rich friends from Trinity, I had my Mexican friends from SAC and I still had some high school friends. It was a real heady time but things were about to change.

My dad was transferred to Oklahoma City. By then I was an adult and could do what I wanted. I wasn't to eager to move and leave all my friends and fun behind and I told my dad so. One day, he was sitting on the back porch and ask me to sit with him. He told me that it was his opinion that if I did not move with them to OKC and I stayed in San Antonio with my so called friends...that I would end up in jail or dead. My dad and mom were smart people. My dad and I fought a lot and my mom was usually the peace maker. Both parents gave me all the freedom I wanted...mainly because they knew that if they didn't, I would probably do what I wanted anyway. I was into all kinds of things in 1968, 69 and 70. I want to make it clear that I never sold drugs but I was always walking a fine line between legal and illegal. I was doing something in my spare time that was making me a lot of money and was exposing me to all kinds of people. I was known for what I was doing and all types would seek me out. What I was doing was legal but it was certainly in a grey area. I will get more into that later in my jobs blog. I mention it here because I thought at the time I was keeping all my activities from my father, mother and sister but after the little talk my dad had with me, I came to find out that they knew more about me than I thought.

After my dad's little talk and his offer to let me start over again with a clean slate in OKC, meaning he would pay for more college, I decided to move. I entered OKC with a new outlook on life and I challenged myself to go back to college, put my nose to the grind stone and keep it clean and get a degree as fast as I could.
I could have gone anywhere but I decided on Central State University in Edmond. CSU was a community four year school and had a good reputation. I excelled at CSU. I kept my friends to a minimum, I really didn't party much...I was studying all the time. I was a fixture in the library and at the student union.I was there for five semesters. I graduated with almost 200 college hours. Remember, I had been going to college for 7 years. I graduated with honors. In 5 semesters, I was on the President's Honor Roll (all A's) 4 times and the Dean's Honor Roll (all A's and B's) once. I had so many hour that I majored in Management and Marketing and minored in English and History. Most of classes at CSU were advanced classes. I loved it. I always sat on the front row, right in the middle of every class...I loved to challenge the professors...I had people coming to me to help them study. I didn't know it at the time but I was a big man on campus, even when I was keeping a low profile. I'll mention here that my sister was also attending CSU and causing a commotion in her own right. Once the guys found out that "that girl" was my sister, I had more male friends than I knew what to do with. My sister was a girl of the times, dressed the part and drove a hot, red sports car!. All the guys wanted to get to know her. When some guy wanted me to introduce him to my sister, I told him he was on his own...my sister was left to make her own decisions. I hope my sister some day writes her own blog...it will be as interesting, or even more so than mine.

I was a great student, smart and made great grades and all the professors and administration knew who I was. Since I made going to CSU a full time job, I was on campus a lot, even on Saturdays and Sundays. I hung out with the intellectuals, the hippies, the communists, the weirdos and the student agitators. I wasn't a leader but I was always around when thing were happening. If there were marches or protests or sit ins...I could be found. I wrote a few articles for the student newspaper, the Vista and all in all, stuck my nose into everything. I was a big part of the student sit ins and protest on May 4 and 5 of 1970..the Kent State shootings. Eventually all that activism got into my personal file along with the FBI's local file. You have to remember the times we were living in and in my opinion, you weren't alive unless you were for or against any of the movements that were happening around us at that time.

I graduated in December of 1971 and would attend the formal graduation in May of 1972 but that never happened. In April of 1972 I received a letter from the CSU administration telling me that even though I graduated with honors, I would not be allowed to attend the May graduation for fear that certain of my friends and I would "disrupt" the ceremonies. That of course was the furthest thing from my mind but that's what they thought and that's why I never got to attend my graduation ceremonies.

It was OK, after getting my diploma in December of 1971, the rest of my life was beginning. I took a job at OTASCO in OKC in January of 1972 and haven't looked back since!!

San Antonio....My Military Draft Saga

Every male between 18 and 26 that lived between 1966 and 1972 has some type of story about the military draft. Mine is a bit unusual and I have been wanting to tell the story in print for many years. The military draft was conducted by the Selective Service System, an agency of the federal government. Every large city had it's own draft board and these draft boards carried out the function of processing every male that was eligible for military service. Between 1966 and 1972....you either joined the military or you were drafted into it or, like many....you tried to figure a way to get out of it, either legally or illegally!!. It was the height of the Vietnam conflict (war had not been declared) and the military needed every male they could get their hands on.

This is my story and I swear every bit of it is true. I have all my documents stored away and some day, I will find them and print them but I wanted to get this saga written down first. If you have ever heard the song by Arlo Guthrie called Alice's Restaurant (now playing)...you can get an idea about how the local draft board operates.

Let the saga begin (I hope you read it all..it is interesting)

It's May 1965 and I have just been kicked out of Trinity University in San Antonio. Trinity informs my local draft board that I am no longer in school and that I am no longer classified I-S (student deferment). I get a notice from the draft board that my classification will change to I-A (available for the draft). I scramble to find another school to take me and in June of 1965 I get into SAC, San Antonio Community College. SAC informs my draft board that I am a full time student and I get reclassified I-S (full time student)...WHEW...I just dodged a bullet.

In June of 1967, I had taken all the classes I could at SAC (SAC was a two year school) and could not stay there without being reclassified as I-A (available for the draft) so I had to find another school fast. I enrolled in Southwest Texas State University in San Marcos...it was a four year school and was within driving distance from my home in San Antonio. I drove to San Marcos everyday.  What I didn't realize at the time was that Southwest Texas State was a shit kicker school (that means it was 100% cowboys who drove pick up trucks and had at least one gun on their gun rack). By June of 1967, I was a full blown hippy, long hair, funny clothes and a little Austin Healey Sprite convertible, red in color. I soon learned that cowboys and hippies didn't mix and since there were more of them than me, I dropped out of SWTSU after about 2 months.

OK, now I'm in trouble....SWTSU informed the draft board that I had dropped out so I was immediately reclassified as I-A (available for the draft). It was now about September of 1967. I received my pre-induction physical notice from my draft board telling me what date to come in to take my military physical to see if I was physically fit to be drafted.

In early 1968, I went down and took the physical and PASSED. DAMN IT!!!!!!!!!

In May of 1968, I RECEIVED MY DRAFT NOTICE. I was ordered to report immediately (they gave me a date and time in mid-June) to my draft board for induction into military service (the Army to be exact).

On June 5, 1968 Robert Kennedy was assassinated.   I received a letter telling me that my induction into the military had been postponed for two months.

My best friend's father was the Commanding General of one of the largest military bases in San Antonio (there are 7 large military bases in San Antonio). I won't use his name because I don't have permission. I was at their house one day discussing my pending military induction when I mentioned that I was under a doctor's care for ACNE (that's right, don't laugh....ACNE). The General told me to have my doctor write a letter to the draft board, telling them I was under his care and that as an ex Marine doctor, he felt that I was not fit for military service. The doctor agreed to write me the letter and I took it with me to the draft board on the day of my induction.

So in early August 1968 my mom and sister drove me to the draft board early one morning. After a tearful goodbye, they drove away and I entered the San Antonio draft board building, where in a little over 6 hours, I would be inducted into the Army and sent to Fort Polk Louisiana.

NOTE...there is a song playing right now called Alice's restaurant by Arlo Guthrie and it really tells the story about getting inducted, Take a few minutes to listen to it....it was a very popular song back in the late 60's.

OK, here I am at the draft board. I'm going to keep this as short as possible. I go through the whole procedure. I even  take the oath and I get officially welcomed to the US Army. All I had to do now, was to take one more light physical, then stop by and talk to a doctor one more time and then I was on my way.

Here I was, sitting in this military doctor's office in my underpants and nothing else. He asks me a bunch of questions and stands up and gives me the once over, He asks me to lower my draws and grabs my balls and asks me to cough. He then sits down and has me return to my chair. Then he said...."I understand you have a letter for me from your doctor"...I said, yes sir and gave it to him. He opened it, read it, shook his head...looked at me and said...."you have got to be kidding", (remember...the letter said that I was not fit for military service because I had a bad case of ACNE). He then took my file and stapled a form to the top of it and stamped REJECTED!!...he said to me, "I can't believe that I just did that". He then stood up, said "good luck son", handed me my file and said when I leave his office, to follow the red line and stop at the first station. There were three colored lines on the floor to follow, green, yellow and red. The green line was for those who were accepted. The yellow line was for those who had to see other doctors or still had a question about their eligibility and the red line was for those who were rejected for military service.

OK, I followed the red line to station #1 and the military guy sitting there ask me for my file, told me to get dressed, stamped my file 1-Y (medically not fit for military service AT THIS TIME) and told me that I would get a notice to return in about 6 months to see if I would then be fit to join the Army. He then told me to follow the red line to station #2.

At station #2, there were two Catholic nuns. The lead nun ask me if I had any questions or did I need any spiritual help. I guess, when someone is found to be UNFIT for military service, they fall apart. My answer back to the nun was "no, I think I just received all the spiritual help I needed, but thanks anyway"!. That made them both smile. They then gave me some paper work, a brochure on spiritual help if I needed it later and a phone number to call to an outreach center. The head nun then said good luck and handed me a dime. I ask, what is the dime for and she said...."for a phone call to have someone come and pick you up....follow the red line and there will be a pay phone at the end of it".

I thanked the two nuns and followed the red line to station #3 and the EXIT. At station #3, there was a Marine...he asked me for my file and my paperwork. He too, asked me if I needed anything...I said no thank you. He proceeded to read all the paperwork....he looked up at me and said..."I can't believe that they found you UNFIT because of ACNE....that's the first time I have ever seen that reason to find a person UNFIT". He smiled, shook my hand and said, we will see you in about 6 months. He then pointed me towards the exit and the pay phone. As I walked away, he said that I will regret this decision and 50 years later he may have been right!! I followed the red line to the exit door and the pay phone. I took the dime the nuns had given me and called home. My mom answered, I told her what had happened and 20 minutes later, there she was with my sister, picking me up.

The story is still not over!!

It's now April 1969...I received my second notice to come and take another physical. I was still seeing my doctor for ACNE and again, he wrote me a letter. This time, it was just a physical and if I passed, I would receive another induction notice. I was still found UNFIT for military service and was still classified as 1-Y (temporally unfit for military service). I was told that I would probably get another physical notice in January of 1970.

I was still out of school, still getting into trouble, still doing all the stuff I shouldn't be doing. I had beaten the draft for a second time and thought I was invincible. I was still working at the hobby shop (a story for another time) and I was still doing my little side business (again, a story for another time).

Sometime in early summer I was over at my friends house...the one with the General for a father. The General was telling us about a local job that he had heard about. I was a government job for the summer that paid $15-$20 an hour. That was huge money back then. He said that the Post Office was taking applications (it was a government facility) and he said he would write us both a letter of recommendation (that was a BIG DEAL). I think his ulterior motive was to get us off the street and start doing something useful. The job was working an assembly line at a local manufacturer make of all things...ammo boxes. We applied and with the letter of recommendation we had, we were immediately hired.

So now, not only was I classified as 1-Y (temporally unfit for military service)..I was also classified as 2-A (civilian job CRITICAL to the military). I really thought that I was sheltered from the draft. There was no way it would get me now. We both worked all summer...we worked both our regular hours and volunteered for overtime that paid time and a half. We made a ton of money that summer but sadly, the contract ended and the great job dried up. It was about September 1969 and I went back to the hobby shop and my old job.

I knew that I was going to be called back for another physical in January of 1970 and I had heard that my type of deferment was going to be done away with and that I would be reclassified as 1-A and be drafted some time in February of 1970.

THEN THE BIG DAY ARRIVED!!!!!

It was announced by the Selective Service System that a draft lottery was going to be put in place and that all eligible men would be entered into this lottery to see who would be drafted first. The first lottery was scheduled for December 1, 1969. The lottery was televised that evening. The Selective Service System had this big drum and there were balls in the drum that had numbers from 1 to 366 (leap year). They started with the birth date of January 1. They reached in and pulled out a number. The number was then assigned to your birth date. The lower the number, the more likely you would be drafted...the higher the number, the less likely you would get drafted. When they got to my birth date, February 3rd....we were all glued to the TV set. My number was 297...I WAS SAVED!!!!!!!! There was no possible way I would ever be drafted as long as war was NOT declared. I couldn't believe it..I'm sure I let out a scream!!. Later that night, I met up with all my friends at a bar...we discussed the lottery and shared our lottery numbers with each other. All my friends had high numbers and we were all safe from being drafted.

I had waited it out. I certainly owed a big thank you to my friend's dad, the General and my Dermatologist who wrote the letters to the draft board. I remember buying them both a bottle of their favorite liquor!!

In early 1970....my dad was transferred to Oklahoma City where another adventure in my early life was about to begin. But that's another story for another blog.

I received one more letter from the draft board officially telling me that my lottery number was 297.....like I didn't know that.

WHEW!!!!!!!