There and back again... or another Appleseed bites the dust...

  I signed up to instruct at an Appleseed in Idaho, which is just down the road - I have been to CdA and Lewiston before, I have even been to Boomershoot. But this Appleseed was in Nampa and I hadn't been there and wanted to see the range and the other RWVA folks - it was on a Friday Saturday schedule, so my time for church would be open. Then I left on Thursday morning, and found out my GPS wanted me to cross a lot of Washington State, turn towards Oregon and then cross a lot of Oregon, before I would get to Idaho and Nampa. Long trip, then they throw Mountain time zone at me, too. I would never recover.

  I was glad that I found the range, that Mike was already there and I could park and stop driving. I got out a folding chair and sat down and spent the evening talking to Mike after looking at the way he built a fence for his target backers. He says it is relatively cheap, I would have painted the political signs two different colors, but it was all pretty effective. I slept in my van.

  Up with the moon and the Sun and we went off to breakfast and meet the Shoot Boss Tim and his wife, Pat, another RWVA instructor, they are migrants from California, if they stay they become California ex-patriots. Just kidding, I am always surprised anyone is still living in California. I got my oatmeal and raisins, and coffee. Talk about the day and what they have been doing and are going to do. Then back to the range. Finish setting up and Pat takes in-processing. We have nine shooters, three parent child teams and many camera shy. Still the day is gentle, and slower than I am used to. Since I am there to help and look for other ways to make an Appleseed work, I am watching closely. Only one sighting square target, then lunch, and then two Red Coats side by side, very much like I once did using the Green Coat targets. I had discussed my use of an AQT instead.

  The only AQT target was used to present the sitting and Standing positions, steady hold factors and the transitions - it was not timed nor scored. After that the only Red Coat of the day, and then the Third Strike of the Match and the benediction.  Clean up and pack up and I would spend several more hours thinking I should get my rifles out and shoot - but instead I just talked to Mike. Then I turned in, although the pace and instruction seemed slower and gentle I was beat.

  Woke for second day, washed and shaved, and thought I really should have a load list for my travels. Mike remarked that he had also thought we should have shot some targets last evening - as he sat there and talked the night in. Breakfast again, I got a farmers platter over easy and lots of coffee. Only eight shooters were still there when we opened the range. Review was quick, the shooters still lacked confidence in their answers, to my mind. Their shooting skills hadn't improved, but they showed promise in the Red Coat target and the only sighting square of the day. Shoot an AQT with a walk down to see the target engagement after each stage and talk targets and techniques with each shooter.

  Lunch with Dangerous Old Men stories, shoot the ball and dummy drill, then two AQTs at speed and I was finished. I had jumped upon a shooter that was just walking beyond the firing line with three shooters with rifles and magazines in preparation period on their mats. She was going to post her AQT target thinking of NOT. I used my PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO ME voice, which is startling, to frightening. And had unkindly reminded her that she hadn't been told by me the LINE BOSS to move across the firing line, and I hadn't cleared the line and NO ONE should be talking while I was talking as LINE BOSS (that last was for the few that had kept right on talking while I got her attention and back to the equipment line). I had the shooters in prep safe their rifles and go back to the equipment line, the RSOs to clear the line, then I sent the young woman down to post her AQT target so she could shoot it.

  I called the AQT course of fire for all four stages, told Mike he was now going to be Line Boss and to take over I was on my way home - a long drive to Spanaway, Washington. Said good -bye to Pat, told her I was sorry about shouting at the shooter, and I hoped it would not affect her the remainder of her day. Shook hands and said good-bye to the Shoot Boss and left one rug, one folding chair and a memory of me that will last beyond my name. It is a beautiful range with a wonderful history they proudly share with tourists. I was also sure I had left an M1 Rifle Appleseed cap at the diner during breakfast on day two.

  I made fuel stops and short rest stops and was home by ten in the evening, Pacific Daylight Savings - being the longest day of the year, I used every bit of it. Although I wore two sets of sunglasses and the visor down to keep the setting sun from burning my eye balls blind. Unload, glass of wine, hot shower and sleep, deep sleep of the exhausted. I will always wish I hadn't had to turn tyrant on the shooter with no regard for her own safety. But that was only one of several instances that I thought wouldn't have happened on most Appleseeds done at the normal pace and unfeeling professional instead of personable professional that projected kind and caring... I thought two shooters weren't getting as far as they could have with a different tact. Maybe next time, it will click. Everything except Known Distance and carding the sights was taught and covered, so they have it all. Hope I see them again somewhere on the trail.

Fledgling flights...

Every year swifts nest under a front eave, having at least two fluffy mouths to feed. Which is good to hold the bug population down as their parents fly trying to get them fed. But sooner than later the fluff is picked off and kicked out, and real feathers show. Then the fledglings come out and stand on the edge of the roof asking for food, and somewhere along that time the parents have had it and do demonstration flights and aerial dances to get the young'ns to follow, or just flutter. Then I start to laugh, for the young'ns will fall off the edge and flutter and flop to the ground, and then flutter harder and fly, kind of, back to the safety of the roof.

But they really aren't flying yet, except they are moving through the air. They are stumbling around like a drunken sailor or that almost toddler in diapers, no control over wings and four forces of flight - shucks they can't count that high yet. Too early, too soon, they will have to get much better before they can catch food in flight, much. Still, they do strengthen, smooth out their landings, learn how to make quick twists in flight. Now if the neighbors cat doesn't creep up on them they might make it.

I finished The Boys in the Boat,


                           
Great read, more for me because I row to nowhere in the YMCA, but mostly for the perspective of the people living in the depression, and just hard life, and what was needed to beat the Supermen of Germany on their home waters in 1936. Very interesting.

So after watching Munich last evening I stuck Seabiscuit in to the DVD player and watched the story unfold, again - how against the odds, good sense - the best won. But only because they believed and worked hard. Don't really see that lesson on the media now.

Just like the fledglings, flap those wings furiously until they tire and you get efficient. Then learn to soar.

Back to me, since I can't control the borders... or the boarders.

Repel all boarders! Avast, me hearties,    .....where is Long John Silver when one needs him?

I wake to the whine of NPR, didn't hit the correct buttons on the radio last night - no telling what subliminal messages I have to ignore the remainder of the day. Saturday, after five days of good hardly a workout at the YMCA, I feel like a break is due. No, I will go later and sweat, I am so old and fat and falling totally into pieces. I must go. But I should have fun along my way, the lawn needs trimmed today, I have at least one rifle to shoot and I want to try that 100 yard KD AQT. I do believe in hands on experience - theory is fine to start the mental images, but I read way to much fantasy and fiction to not know I need to have done it badly at least.

I got a green laser to mount on my dummy rifle for training, actually I received two, one puts out a multi-point pattern (?) and the other a very nice dot. The dot is the one I will work to make happen. Then the red laser goes to back up utility. I don't have cats to chase the dot around, maybe I could distract the neighbor's cat?

I have a computer cave that needs more organization, and I need to quit drinking so much brandy.... no, I don't drink that much (first step in knowing there is a problem is the denial?). So I pack the YMCA bag, pick up one rifle - one, NO,
not two, I will take two to Idaho, just in case. But then I don't have to take all the Appleseed gear, just my support my shooting gear. Hooded sweatshirt today, it is in the fifties and rainsome and somewhere. Top of Mount Rainier is covered.

So, since you did stop by to look, have a wonderful weekend, Army birthday, Flag day, and Father's Day on Sunday. Go shooting, safely and well.  The church is having a Golf Tournament this morning, seventy-five dollars - I told the Pastor that I could get a spot on the range much cheaper and would have more fun, but he always looks at me funny when I mention shooting. My son might be golfing, it would look good on him - he isn't a total klutz. How do I know the sport isn't for Earl? Well, if a ball is used that is where I can sit and watch. I would play rugby (when I was much younger) but never handle the ball, except to pass it back to someone that wouldn't drop it.

Since the President and Congress have surrendered to the invasion...

I mean, when Syrians want to be refugees in Turkey, they get tent city, international aid and surrounded by Turkish soldiers that will kill them if need be. It wasn't that long ago 'Ottoman' wasn't a piece of furniture.

But I think the turmoil in Central America, and Mexico, is easily cured. Just teach the refugees how to speak English, study HISTORY, economics, civics and get a fine education in revolutionary tactics, and send them back better prepared than the Bay of Pigs.

I understand not wanting to grant amnesty for breaking the law. Issue them a permanent, or temporary labor card. No citizenship. They already have a country they are afraid to go back to... no reason to allow them to stay here forever cringing every time the government picks on them, like it picks on us. Don't worry about them ever voting, there are enough dead voters and crooked election officials. That is how they play the game, they being the respective political parties, living in fear of losing their power. That was King George the Third's problem - he wasn't loved enough, respected by those far, far away and was sure there was Historical precedent for Kings losing the throne, or even their head.

Personally, if I had enough time left, I would seriously study Spanish to gain a command of the language. Then I would prepare to exploit the Latin American nations, one filibuster at a time. a person engaging in unauthorized warfare against a foreign country.

Sign up early, and sign up often...

Good morning, world. I listen to the ravens in the woods, opening my window for the fresh cool air, admiring the rich greens growing outback. I am back from an Appleseed shoot at Blue Lake Range in Stevenson, Washington. Nice group of ten shooters, one father observing and encouraging his son. One woman, two eleven year old boys, seven men of various ages and marksmanship levels. One of them had made a Rifleman score before and brought friends. He was also an EMT, so we were covered.

   I had driven three and a portion of one hours to be the shoot boss, the fellow in charge of making it happen. Actually, Kenjo had mentioned the shoot had no shoot boss signed up, so I had offered to wear that hat - it does still fit my head. Janer had signed up to learn and share more and get her progress check for IIT3, which she earned. TheSquirrelPatrol had forgotten to sign up, but since Kenjo put out another blanket email, his memory was jogged and he said to include him with the COI. So we had a great ratio for the twelve expected shooters. Two became no shows and we taught ten. The range can hold a few more but the brass would be bouncing back at the shooter instead of landing on their neighbor's bare skin.

   I had written the course of instruction (COI) assigning instructors and demonstrators for the first day, I intended to get the Redcoat target and two sighting square targets done before lunch - there is so much to teach that sometimes shooting is secondary. But we got the instruction out, fired fifty rounds on the two sighting squares and tightened up most of the groups. The boys had challenges, one shooting a single shot Rascal rifle - his size but the rear sight was off and he never hit paper. He couldn't close his right eye either. I tested his rifle, found it hitting six inches high, knocked the rear sight down, and had duct tape covering his right eye protection (safety glasses). He hits! Often learning marksmanship is conquering one problem at a time. The other boy had a very heavy adult size 10/22, heavy from the bull barrel and the scope. He was also smaller than the normal rifleman, he will grow into it, in about four or five years. His father was thinking of getting him one for his current size soon. Still, he took to shooting excellent groups and in the rifleman's cadence so he will do fine when he is big enough to carry the weight.

   Lunch in the shade, listening to the pre-1775 history, the First Strike of the Match and followed by the Second Strike of the Match. We know too much to tell it all, I had six Revolutionary War books with me, and I learned long ago that trying to stick every thing in your presentation isn't what the shooters need, what they need is enough to decide to find out more on their own. Let them connect the dots and explore. I mentioned Lexington was a village of seven hundred people and four hundred cows - no one asked how I knew.

   After lunch I used an AQT target for Ball and Dummy and then teaching the positions and steady hold factors, NPOA, and Rifleman's cadence. Not recorded for score, but to verify they were picking up the instruction. Then we fired and recorded two more AQTs at speed. Interesting results.  We then had the Third Strike of the Match and shot the final Redcoat of the day, improved so much from the morning one. Gave them a short benediction and the Seventh Step and cleaned up the range sending them to hot showers, food, lots of liquid and some solid sleep. Yes, I gave them a packet of homework to read and memorize before morning, but I know they would look at it later.

  The instructors gathered and talked about the day, the COI, the good things the bad things the way to improve, and gave out assignments for Sunday instruction. I stayed and camped on the range, talking to one father, who was camping there, too. He knew about the Iceland Solution. Interesting conversation but I needed water and sleep.

I  did get a beautiful view of the Big Dipper and the Milky Way, the night sky over the Columbia River was crystal clear and only tall trees limited the horizon.

Second Day, Redcoat, review, one sighting square target to confirm groups and sights, then two AQTs before lunch, Dangerous Old Men stories at lunch. I held the line boss while they were told. The lunch line boss is a lonely quiet time. Still it demonstrates to me that those fine rifles don't put holes in paper without a shooter attached. In the afternoon, we would shoot a known distance demonstration by moving the targets back to the hundred yard line. Showing the bullet drop from the 22LR and the rise from the center fire .223s, and the spread of the Minutes of Angle as the distance grows. We would also use the drop or rise to adjust the shooter's aiming point, doing the Rifleman's Dance. Moving back to the twenty-five meter line we fired one Peppermint drill for bursting the candy, some could and some couldn't. There were four more AQTs, and a Redcoat target.

Although the day was sunny and bright, the pace and heat started to take its toll and I could wrap the shoot up about an hour early. We honored our repeat Rifleman, and had a baptism for our new Rifleman, Gordon, who scored exactly 210 points We had one Rifleman, with three Appleseeds under his belt, volunteer to become an Instructor in Training (IIT) and gave Junior Patriot patches to the two young boys for doing so much with the adults, no complaints nor problems. One had all the math in public stuff down when I had given the IMC the day before. He was rocking.

Overall, I would do it again. And likely will, although the drive is long it reminds me of the early Appleseeds, that were smaller, friendly groups, more coaching than preaching. A great weekend for me, hope yours was, too.

D-Day, seventy years ago, remembering the trips to Normandy...

Talking to Mike at church fellowship last week, about how one has to teach the new soldiers to run through the machine gun fire, Mike's eyes got big. He had been taught that one can't do that, and I said you can's stay still and be anything but a target.Yesterday I watched Saving Private Ryan, have owned it for years but hadn't watched it ever. The big screen movie had been a solid lock in my mind. A powerful movie, and then I stayed for the credits and Mister Spielberg's comments after. Then I put Band of Brothers Part 2, Day of Days, on and watched as the paratroopers came in and tried to live through the drop.

The choice of movies had others clamoring for Longest Day, which I had read while young, I read all his books. But I will save it for today, it is too star studded but a great overall view of the span of the battle.

One of my cousins is on a honor tour of Normandy this week with his wife and other old folks.

I was stationed at Pinder Kaserne in Zirndorf, BRD from1978-1982, four years. One of the soldiers from that tour reminded me of where the name was earned. MOH John J. Pinder,

He died on his birthday, on D-Day, doing all he could to get communications established for the unit.

The same posting got more about Pinder, seems he played baseball and is considered by those that follow the game to have been one of many that would have made a difference. So Facebook makes a difference and does spread knowledge. And I know more about the day. Difficult to honor all those that served and died. While we had a large military presence in Europe, staff tours and studies relived all the battles.

Politicians posed and post and think about the effort. But like my American History teacher, that taught and coached the high school rifle team, took a trip to Gettysburg every summer. We have to connect, to honor and to grow into the best we can be during our time. And to ensure that our current politicians don't bend our admiration for the past into a very stupid future, where we have to do it all again.

So olde, I probably need a nap...

so I started today off missing one wife, and a bottle of milk.

No problem, pour last nights coffee on the rolled oats/raisins and nuke for two minutes, add one egg, and another minute. Eat with peach yogurt.

 Wife returns with milk and eggs and I go off to the YMCA. Told to buy beans and hot sausage at the Commissary on the way back. Did so. Only a light work out today, 5k rowing, 7.22 miles on bicycle machine, effort about an hour total.

Then off to range 15 at JBLM. To shoot of course. One redcoat target one AQT. Then back home to rest or finish lawn before Bible Study tonight. Life is so easy, something is going to be very bad soon.

Shot the target from largest to smallest.. I scored 200 rds of CCI 22LR by asking at the range. Keep asking, it is flowing slowly into the system.

So how would I address the graduates of the USAMA?

or how would you?

What is important that they know walking off as young new officers?

What must they be ready for?

What do you want them to report after having done their duty?

For sure the Command in Chief didn't cover my points.

It would be an interesting exercise to see how they would have written their graduation speech, or the one they want to deliver in thirty to forty years to another class.

Something to think about, we are talking about the nation's future and who we trust to hold it dear.

Finished reading "Lexington and Concord" by Athur B. Tourtellot...

The beginning of the war of the American Revolution -- pretty good read, has some information that I hadn't read before, and is presented differently than Paul Revere's Ride, which is not in the Bibliography for this author. Well cited, with footnotes and maps and illustrations and portraits from the period.

Mostly outside of reading and walking the park with my wife, I spent the day remembering those that stopped living for their country, giving it all up. My obsession with my passing age was well summed up by NFO on his post Facts on Vietnam Service , time is flowing. I was in that war late.

Add caption

But mostly I dwell thinking about Rim Michael Dungey, born in 1946, member of the 4th Infantry Division out of Fort Lewis, Washington - by transport ship to the Republic of Vietnam. Where as an infantryman, grunt, Private First Class he would give up his life to a booby trap? At about the same time I was on my way to Fort Benning's school for boys, Infantry Officer Candidate School.

Nope, he isn't related that I know about. Born in South Dakota, raised in Southern California, Crawford High School graduate. Well thought of By those that knew and wanted to write about him. One of over fifty plus thousand that died in service, names upon a wall.

I have always asked the question, am I worth it? Was their sacrifice, death and effort for me to honor with the best life they could never live? Have I lived up to what they could have done if they hadn't paid the piper? too early, so needlessly? But then I was willing, and I feel a brotherhood with them, as they did their best to win wars and give the next generations their finest gift -- their life and their love. Honor them eternally.

It is Memorial Day Observed...

Ever walk the grave yards looking at the fallen service people? One should try to do so every Memorial Day. Go out and find you can't read all the names, appreciate all that they gave up on - representing us on some battlefield, somewhere, some time ago... or even not so long ago. They are still in danger, still targets of our enemies and so will become one day one of those you won't give enough time to remember, consider, to ponder the price.

I worked an Appleseed shoot this weekend, in a small Victorian Town marketing itself as such, at their shooting club. We took time to fire a volley in honor of thirteen of the fallen of Massachusetts from 19 April, 1775. Not sure they get a nudge in Heaven every time some one remembers to say their name, so the effect is for the many that just want to understand the price: the real price of our Liberty, our Land and their love for it, something we may never completely understand.

So find them, respect them, remember them.

Jonas Parker
Isaac Muzzy
Jonathan Harrington, Jr.
Samuel Hadley
Caleb Harrrington

Robert Monroe
John Brown
Ashabel Porter
Abner Homer
Isaac Davis
John Raymond
Jason Russell
Deacon Haynes. 


But for sure, don't forget that all the wars and troubles, battles won and lost, had two sides - and they will all be drinking mead in Valhalla, such a price to pay for a mark carved in stone - remember the fallen and respect their lives and deaths.

Been playing in the dirt... a real boy...

My cousin mentioned that Dungeys were tenant farmers or just farm workers as a general rule of kind of folks they was... long ago and far away, and then not so far away and not so many generations back. Hmm, and the problem with that is? None that I can see. Yeomen, is just fine, bauer ist besser, and cattlemen just raise all their vegetables and grains into steaks. Works for me.

Was it Esau that was the hunter, and Jacob the farmer? and who got all the women? Not that that was my point but one can play foolish with Bible stories read or told wrong. Still, I was turning soil, cutting grass and weeds, making the home better for my wife as I will be on the trail again this weekend. Port Townsend, Appleseed. Looking on the internet, there are some fine gardens much bigger and better than my wife's, but we are just little old people and must watch some television mindless entertainment - ever notice you never miss what you didn't miss while you weren't looking? When I would return home from long periods overseas on government grievance work, I noticed that the soap operas hadn't moved that far along from what I remembered the last time I was in the States.

YMCA and shooting stuff readied tomorrow, pack up my Caravan, early departure on Saturday morning.

I walk alone, but not really...

Loner, not part of the pack nor the group or the gang... alone but watching. Friendly enough, but not overwhelming, hopefully not smothering. Strange until close to eccentric, but odd is closer.

I have ridden my motorcycle with other cyclists, but mostly I ride alone to my own destination, riding with my bother and nephew was neat, but they actually talked to each other while they rode and I just go in silence, or all the silence the wind and wheels will give me on top of an active engine. I am content with the ride, as long as I maintain upright, when I am down a little help is appreciated. And I do go down, not as hard as I once did, but hard enough.

It has taken my wife years to get accustomed to me not doing what everyone else does, she has to explain me to her friends and relatives. I shouldn't burden her, but I am going to remain myself and she accepts me, her friends and relatives that haven't really met me only feel a little sorry for her. She is my lover, and that has been a real stretch to love enough to not be truly alone. We ignored two governments as much as possible, but they did get involved in making our partnership legal and binding. Duh, like we couldn't find a way out of their paperwork - lots of others have. It took my mother a few years to figure out how strong we were committed. If one or two are crazy enough they will be committed. But it isn't the paperwork with some unloving government agency.

Instant communication has made me farther away rather than closer. I start ignoring telephone rings because there are so many I have no interest in listening to trying to persuade me of something. Call blocking worked for a bit, but ignoring the rings always works. Emails are easier to delete without opening, and if it is someone that I want to read or hear from I can open my end and do so.

Facebook has pictures, posted by interesting folks, relatives and friends, and I always love to see me in actions (if he would just get younger and thinner). So even with NSA storing all my bits and bytes, I don't mind for my own utility, their foolish storing of everything because they don't know what it is they really need to do their job. Government job, they only have to show you something to make it look like they are critical, not actually productive.

Sent a message to my sister with our parents slides, looking for a picture of a younger me and my Harley-Davidson 1948 flathead with the tank shift and the rocking clutch pedal. Dad had to have taken some kind of a photograph, he really rebuilt it, I only rode it. Pennsylvania to Coral Gables, Florida and back, alone but not lonely.

For Facebook folks: You need something to feel guilty about? How about the number of friends that you never hear from now, because you are so strange, in what you share, post and postulate? Yes, they only thought they really knew you....

From a Facebook Friend:

Reread Dune this weekend. Perhaps the 6th time I have read it.
I am struck by how much more the details emerge in the story as I, the reader, have matured with age.

Was this Herberts plan all along?
 
My comment: I am sure that great books speak to a new you, every time you return, the words didn't change, but you have.

You guys don't really know any truly poor people do you?

A comment on a FB post from some Rightwing group.

I have been poor, truly poor. But I always thought of it as temporary a condition of having no cash on hand nor ease of borrowing the little I would need until I found work, or cash or something. So I never qualified for government poor-ness and the benefits that would flow. I have never collected un-employment, never, not one dollar. So I really couldn't have been poor, could I? My calorie intake when I was poor was really bad, lost much weight quickly, my smoking habits dried up faster, although if you want to smoke you will beg a cigarette from strangers faster than asking for a meal. Folks once shared smokes, quicker than meals or money.

Then again, I wasn't really POOR, since I had my spirit, my pride and my self esteem to buoy me up until I really fell out of whack, or sunk into the abyss.. . I can see how being depressed would make one poorer.

So maybe I don't really know any poor, but then I don't know that I know any serial rapists or murderers either. Just not hanging around with the right crowd. I am sure I am not poor, for all of the measurements, I exceed. But then I am much smarter than most of the people of the world. I am so smart that I know they can't all be like me, nor can any government ever make them like me or better. And I don't think they would want to be me, nor would I like a world full of folks like me, either.

I do know that teaching people, at a young age is fine, that work is good and will create rewards is better than drugging them with media buzz and other harmful toxins. I only want what is best for them, I don't know any truly poor people, and I thank God for that - not the government.

Good day, thank the Lord.

Weather was perfect, the breezes in tune with the rising temperature. I put the Christmas stuff away until next November. Having a little floor space was nice, so I rolled the motorcycle out to get it started. And I won't go into how that was done.

But I did it, got it running, fueled it up and rode to the YMCA, which had given me the day off. Rode the Trusty Triumph back home and on the way, realized it didn't have its new plate, sticker nor title. Where did I put that, I was headed towards the garage to put it on, and got diverted.... what happened? Don't know now, the garage is cleaner for the looking for the envelope and plate.

Still, the motorcycle ride was fun, leaning into the turns and going up the gears like I knew what I was doing. The motorcycle is away, the garbage is on the curb, hot shower done and I am wearing shorts and a polo shirt, so cool. Dinner and then iced wine until I sleep.

Don't like the weather, wait it will change soon...

I was expected, welcomed and loved for all my parents' dreams come true.

My mother wanted to be a writer, an author, a true champion of God, a lady, a real do-gooder and settled for wife and mother. If she wanted anything in greed, it would have been more hugs, more time in conversation and more visits from far away children and to know about the grandchildren.

A different world that I grew up in, no real Home Schooling, although my mother seemed to tell stories always, read books with us, and tolerate the blanket house under the table, the couch pillow fort walls and stepping on AWOL army men with her bare feet. Dogs and children, church every Sunday, and summer church camp adventures to add to the vacation Bible school. Taking us to Uruguay and Argentina for a meeting with those we had only heard about.

She spent an awful lot of time trying to rein in her first born, a challenge from the get go. We had quiet talks in the car about the real important stuff, so as not to be interrupted by siblings, telephone nor time. Those stuck in my mind and heart long years later. She had rules and I was always testing them, for I always had things to do and was late already.

In the end, I am hoping that she was happy with most of what I did, why I have done it and what my life shared with her meant. I should have loved her better, but what do I know about love?

So this Mother's Day, I wish more Americans have what I did - a loving mother, a confident, a warm heart and a cheer leader. She did work making doughnuts for a bit, taking census in 1970, and wrote a lot of poetry - but where she earns her sainthood was as my mother. Thank God for mothers that love enough for His glory. Amen.

I turned my death clock off, it was ticking down...

My pacemaker is going to last longer than I according to the Death Clock app. Maybe, I couldn't say just yet. It is too beautiful a day to be concerned about. I found an old photo of my mother, smiling in her decline, it is now my Facebook avatar for this Mother's Day weekend. Maybe I should pay bills but I am about to go to the YMCA so I can look as skinny as I did in 1971 (when was Obama born?).

That is sixty to seventy pounds away, and ain't gonna happen. I am doing the Savage Revenge on the bicycle -- a twenty mile jaunt through the snowy mountains with Yetis yet. I have done it before and will probably scull 6.2 miles on the rowing machine after. Real sculling would be better but someone would insist I wear a helmet and have a floatation devise on...Sigh.

Not everything in the Republic of Vietnam was not worth taking a picture of. I snapped this one of fleeing beauty. I really have always loved that size, type and utility Truck.

The young ladies were the Miss America contestants doing the only USO visit to our little fire base. I was so tongue tied I couldn't even say hello, hi or thanks for coming. Real American women, things only vaguely remembered from a time long ago and very far away.

But I sure do like that truck. And hot showers and hot food and a cot to sleep upon. When I got to the 82nd Airborne Division in the 1973 alert for Israel and Egypt in conflict I got the floor. Which never gives way.

So you wanted to know how much time is left?

Afraid or just timid? different degrees of fear, aren't they?

I am worrying on the next Appleseeds, and there aren't a bunch of shooters out there signed up to learn, shoot and hear the stories. Have all the Americans been on the line already? Don't think so.

Not only don't I get all the shooters, but I am having challenges getting enough great crews to instruct, coach and make the shoots safe and entertaining. There is something amiss.

I am blaming it on the ANTI-Gun Goofs and elected Foolish Officials and their shared Mouthpieces. The gun guys and gals are just tired of beating their heads against the wall of stupidity maintained by media and political correctness. Haven't any of them gotten beyond the entertainment industry's glorification of guns and gun violence? For sure the criminals haven't, but then we can all agree that there aren't any smart criminals caught and convicted - so they have a reason to be stupid about guns and gun violence. I didn't say that criminals aren't effective as the police in making the innocent fearful of men with guns. If I believed all the stories in the media and entertainment I would think disarming the military and police should be first priority, but most law officers aren't trigger happy, do train and have thought out why and how they would use their firearms. Still, there seems to be an overcast of gloom among the unknowing population that would like to learn about firearms, own one, and be a responsible adult.

Now I am certain that people that really know why they fear firearms, have good reason. And I am sure I will never convince them that they should overcome their fears. But when their fears start to ruin my day, week, month, year (and I don't have many of them left) well, that is my challenge. Get them off my back and out of my life.

On a very positive note, if they are getting work and building a better world and haven't the time to come to the Appleseed events - that is still a great thing, for them and the world. Go get it done, pilgrim.

How are you doing, really?

I now know exactly what my DNA ethnic estimate can tell me William Earl Dungey.  Now traditionally the table talk has always been that in about 169? there was a rebellion in Ireland - not really, there was a major defeat of the Jacobites and James by the Orange Lord William, also current King in England with James' daughter, Mary, as his queen. The Battle of the Boyne. For whatever reason one of King Williams victorious soldiers could have been our Irish ancestor, whom according to table talk married an English woman and settled in Kent, where all his sons married English women and continued to live in Kent until they came to America in 1848 or so. From all I know about History of England, that portion of Kent and Sussex, the DNA is close to perfect.

For as long as my ancestors lived in America, I had thought there might be some American Indian bloodline, none has been found. My mother always quoted that the longer the line to colonial times the more likely there was some. But it isn't there to be seen. I am not convinced of the DNA science yet, they haven't a large enough pool, nor much beyond statistically might be.. so. I want linkage to real royalty and a title... ha, ha, ha! Not happening.

It was the 5th of May, my wife's birthday, and we celebrated with breakfast in bed (almost) then a movie "Heaven is Real" and dinner at the Azteca, which was too much and too good. Home to a Skype.com visit with the grandchildren and son, and the granddaughter is talking a mile a minute and a pitch too high for my hearing mostly. But she is lively and lovely. The grandson is tough and independent. Nice finish for the day for her.

Got the news on Facebook that Jeffro had passed on to his reward, blogger, Poor Farm on the left, shooter, former farm son, truck driver, and race car fan. Good man with a big heart. Never met him before the internet, but we were cousins kind of... wanted to meet him on my cross America motorcycle tour, didn't happen. But it was close in Colorado.

Appleseed happened well in Waitsburg, Washington. The link is on the left but you may have the pictures of me from others.

I have to keep talking them straight...

I shared a picture, message was: 'I am a conservative, Pro-life, gun owner. What else can I do to make you angry?' or some such. A family member comes back with how can you be pro-life and a gun owner? I find that very easy - I actually know the danger of weapons, the effect on the humans shot, and the effects on the minds of the humans shooting. So my choices are because of knowledge, not because somebody says...

Another picture of the NRA Convention and someone posts, a child - what is a child doing there? (She really knew, but was repeating the mantra of NRA+Guns = EVIL.) My response, not that there are any anti-gunners reading those posts in Facebook, The child is growing up, informed aware and interested.

Listening to the Blues, falling asleep at the wheel...

Sunday evening and I listen to the Blues from KPLU while I drive back from Whidbey Island and the Coupeville Appleseed. I must talk too much, because I was tired enough to fall asleep again while waiting to load on the ferry in Clinton. Someone ran out and beat on my window to wake me up. I knew it couldn't happen twice, but it has.

I think back over the two days, and remember the good and bad stuff, I have to write a report and file it. Good that it was a safe shoot, bad that our only riflemen were only repeat riflemen (they had made rifleman before), but there was real improvement in everyone's performance. There were six youth, and they did the very best they could and shared in their families' experiencing the marksmanship and the heritage of the Revolutionary War. I made sure we had an opportunity to shoot a peppermint. That made a very young lady and her father very happy.

Of course the joy of bursting the peppermint could also be shared by the experienced Riflemen on the line, even to the point of offering to do another's candy. Two full AQTs on day one, and six on day two, four Redcoat targets, three sighting square, ball and dummy drill and all the Three Strikes and the basic three Dangerous Old Men stories. Did not shoot any Known Distance and this is a great range for a quick hundred meters demonstration shoot and practical application of Rifleman's Trajectory and bullet drop and rise. The shooters need better grounding in the basics, more study and dry fire and position practice.

I started Friday evening with the first day of a Revival at my church, and the speaker was great, subject was about being a good steward. And how the Lord will give you what you need for the call that He sends you, and you will not be wanting. I thanked the speaker and shook his hand, telling him I was going on my own mission in the morning, the Appleseed. My wife's pastor wanted me to bring another to the Revival during this weekend, but I was going to be where I could do the most good.

Drive and ferry ride were exactly as I expected, met Tracey at the gate and she told me she had ordered better weather (looked a lot like rain), but then she and I knew the Appleseed would happen anyway. So we starting setting up, Ralph came and added to the effort, Bob brought some breakfast and more help. We were on time and on schedule, only two No Shows.

I did too much talking, but I was very happy that Matthew took over nine hundred pictures on the first day, and an unknown but probably enormous amount on the second day. I am in so many more than if I had been the only photographer. He was also on top of handing out targets and assisting in anyway asked, he is still too young to be an Instructor in Training (IIT) but he has shot Rifleman. I think he will have to be my replacement one day in the future.

So as my medical tech asks, as she monitors my pacemaker's performance, have you done anything fun? the only answer is yes - I showed up and excelled. Who is telling this story anyway?

Every day, starts again, and I am still in wonder...

Picked up some flowers, looked at the new greens growths in the evergreens, dogs barked, a black Caravan honked at me and stuck an arm out the driver's window to wave as I walked along.

I think about changing back to the regular fifty star flag and taking the First Rebel Flag with me (Betsy's best) to Coupeville. I do have to pack out this afternoon after I refuel. I was about to exit for the YMCA, but my wife asked if I could wait and take some food to one of her friends for Korean social/hospitality reasons.

The answer is 'Yes, dear.' with a smile. I could sneak off and read some more adventures in the kindle. Or print out the shoot roster for the Appleseed (done!). Family groups, only six of twenty have done an Appleseed before, six are youngsters. No one is as old as I am, so I get the honors of age.

I was thinking about what could I do that would be a good thing when the world falls apart, what value would I have for society that could get me fed. In primitive societies everyone has a part. There were a lot of people doing the things I laughed about when I went to the University of Miami in 1967 - Basket Weaving. Or braiding, or knitting, or net making and mending, or goose herding. Everyone had something.

I would probably want to be the librarian/story teller. I don't eat too much now and have a great attitude to questions about how come we do it this way. Rick Santorem just called me about how to Take Back America. But America hasn't gone anywhere, I don't own it, and we will get what we work for and what we give away proudly. I recommend Love, always love.

The kitchen is closed tonight... did you hear me, yobo?

Ah, just more sweet nothings, yes, dear, I heard you. The kitchen is closed. I had a fine lunch at two, and have been nibbling and will knock out two Korean pancakes and I will stop eating long enough to nap, soon.

The rain has finally stopped a bit, the Sun is shining and I get to tell you how the Concealed Carry Permit renewal went. So smooth. First park and go to the Country Courthouse, where one gets the permit, or did ten years ago, and five years ago renewed at same. Go in the West doorway, where you may check your weapons and get a tag for pick upon your departure. No problem, metal items in that basket, weapons in this basket, walk through the metal detector. Easy, no conflict no problem. Then wander and find out that it isn't here any longer. Across the street in the 911 building. Okay, go back through gate, turn in check tag and get handed my weapons outside the metal detector. No questions, they do this daily.

Get a number for renewal of permit, fill out all the paperwork again, wait for call to show permit, photo ID, and pay 32 dollars for renewal and 3 dollars for lamination. I wash my wallet enough to believe in lamination. It will be coming to me in the mail in a few weeks - as soon as they check to see I am a fine fellow. Until then the current one hasn't expired. Civilization, is folks that use please and thank you. One customer was late on renewal, and the cost is more, but he was worried about keeping the same number. I never memorized mine but it is cool with lots of sevens and a pair of eights.

The car maintenance was fine, but they found more things to fix than I think I need this month, but the time is coming. If I win the Lottery I could buy a new car. If the world collapses I can walk when gasoline isn't around, or if the Chinese and Russians nuke us until we glow I don't need to worry.

I got myself a railroader's hat, it is cool. Just call me the brakeman.

Luckily, I don't write professionally, I don't seem to even write to be read...

Just have to get that off my mind and on to the monitor.

The nation is at the crossroads and there isn't a clear direction to go. If I want to dwell on metaphors we are stuck in the mud, and it is still raining. We wanted it all, bought it on credit, loaded it up on the wagon with the fine horses and went off down the road towards Easy Street. But the pot holes weren't fixed, the foundation has been corrupted and swept away, the highwaymen took all the valuables and cash. Leaving us, anything but high and dry, more like low and going lower. Wallowing in the mud and mire, since high and dry is for ships and I was working on station wagons or Conestoga's. (I drive a Caravan, see where I get stuck?).

Sent off the Plan of Instruction for this weekend's Appleseed, I have my shoot box, plus all the stuff I am carrying just in case. Lovely Coupeville, Washington. I catch the ferry at six, drive to the range and unload, set up and have a great two days of marksmanship and heritage. All the slots are filled, I need more instructors, but the pay is in satisfied smiles and that warms my soul, doesn't put potatoes on the plate. Still, it will work out, Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

When did the NRA become so EVIL?

Ah, the demon Democrats did it. Or those that don't believe in the goodness of men or some other agents of CHAOS. Evil, just say the letters and my brother won't stand with them even when they are right.

Not that the NRA has stopped any murder conviction, nor have they lobbied for crazy tunes when no one wanted to sing. Just because they are the NRA, and they seem to buy government representative better than former Mayor of Madness Bloomberg. Then I do understand that fifty million dollars of fertilizer is going to make grass roots as deep as the Gun Lobby has... except the Gun Lobby has shooters and all kinds of gun lovers that don't put any money into causes, especially political ones. They just vote, demonstrate and expect to make every shot count. Or, and I often think this is the majority of the gun owners, they just go about their lives hoping no one bothers them in their activities with firearms -- but they aren't betting on it.

Kind of like the KKK demonstrating against the Jews, Catholics and other un-American races -- ideas that need to be looked at in the light of day. They weren't true nor worthy.

There are many bad ideas, false teachings, and evidence buried far from the light of day. Troubling times.

I think I will drive my wife to her eye operation, and read while I wait patiently. Wearing my reading glasses by Foster Grant. I did get my Rebel flag up yesterday, but I think I will go for the larger size next time and keep the two by three for a marching or demonstration guidon.

Uncomfort Zone... don't we all live in it?

I noticed the other day,  that I was getting comfortable being an old fat man, can't run, can't ... you name it and there are many things that I can't. What I found interesting was the idea that I wasn't comfortable being an old fat man - acceptance, I should be aware that I am more than what others and I see when I waddle, or limp, or walk down the street, but that I should accept what I am -- shouldn't I?  No, I am Earl, and I am a game changer... from the time my mother heard me breaking the crib slats so I could escape the afternoon nap (which I always thought was her rest time more than mine) to the jumping out of the second story window to escape to go down to see the circus parade... I wanted my way and I was going to reach it.

We work hard to make life good, adventurous and meaningful - and do best when challenged by being uncomfortable. I have been blaming women for civilization for years, men would still be living in caves hunting fishing drinking and swapping lies and brags and periodically paying attention to feminine companions. But no, women wanted more for their little piece of a man's life and the cave was cold and damp, and if they had to stay with the babies all day they wanted running water, fresh air and more of everything. Men are still stuck on hunting, fishing, drinking, swapping lies and brags -- they amount of time they listen to women has increased beyond measure - not that they are paying any more attention to them. Civilization has arrived.

Comfort sells: recliners, mattresses, a good night's sleep, snake oil medicines, pain relievers - words like easy, warm, dry, smooth, simple, and ready. Politicians use them constantly to assure the people they are being sensible, taken care of, and secure. But then politicians lie a lot, almost every time they open their mouths to speak. When the politician needs a vote, the language brings messages of comfort. When the politician needs you obey - the words will all strike fear into those listening.  Normally when trying to make a bad idea work.

So I am watching Helen of Troy on dvd, comparing and contrasting it with Brad Pitt's Troy and Homer's Iliad (in English verse). I am comfortable watching something unreal and still heroic, based on some long ago war between tribes in the bronze age - and Helen is hot and lightly dressed or totally naked periodically. If I could I would have merged the two visions of the war, no real humans nor animals were harmed in the making of this production - although the real story is based on human brutality. I have always told those that want to know what war is like, about and all - I have always told them to study the Iliad, it says it all.

Homer left out the sweating at the oars, the digging in and erecting camps, the wasting of the land the stench of the rotting dead that didn't matter enough to burn in honor, the screams of the wounded animals and men, the despair of the losers - panic, and the calming heroes standing against the discomfort of ruin and rape. He covered the important stuff - but real life and war is full of little problems, irritations and things to drive you to drink or anger or frustration - little uncomfort zones.

Best get out there and struggle against the overwhelming tide of time and truth... get into and destroy that which makes one's uncomfort zone. I just want to be loved... don't we all?

Who are you and what is going on?

I called in to a fine blogcast (?) called The Squirrel Report (Thurday evenings 8PM CDST), hosted by Alan Andrews and Breda Fallon - two people I have met in cyberspace - actually I have met Alan at Boomershoot, and was wondering at his strange love of those firearms he had. I have talked to Mike and then Breda while motorcycling madly through Cleveland on my way to a Dairy Farm in New York State (before the STATE became anti Liberty and 2nd Amendment).

So as we were talking they thought I should be a guest and answer questions. How do I become important enough to want to call in and talk with? What have I ever done? That I would talk about freely? Well most things I would talk about - don't ask me for the truth, I only know what I know and you know that isn't all there is to know.  About anything.

Born in Albert Lea, Minnesota moved to Ohio before kindergarten, and had to go into 1st grade without its benefit. Sigh, missed a whole year of education no wonder I am flawed. I got a Robin Hood Castle set for Christmas there, was baptized by my Grandfather, Reverend Earl Martin Smith, and we moved on to Pennsylvania. Eleven years in the Pennsylvania school system and I graduated. Kind of just barely, since I hadn't done the paper that Mr.Giboney was expecting and he required it. Yes, I did get it done, he was expecting it, and I graduated.  Not much to talk about there - I was a growing boy prepared in my own mind to run off to join Castro against Batista in Cuba, or to quit this waste of time high school and do something military with my life.

Off to college in Florida for one semester, rode my Harley Davidson both ways. Joined the Army and did the best I could for years and years and years and years. Did travel to foreign lands meet strange people and try my best to kill them, or look scary.

Why would anyone want to talk to me on a blogcast? what have I done they need an opinion on, a point of view, a closer look at? I did get married, and it stuck. I also have a very firm opinion of the government's ability to make my life better, as good as it can get and how to deny me what I am going to get on my own.

I have logged on to Ancestry.com and asked for the DNA test, like they will find I am made of coffee and the Spirit of Liberty.

Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is His...

Everyone can identify the coin with the Emperor's face on one side, then assumes there is something that God has given us that we can return for His glory.... but what is that? Another assumption is that it must be a coin, since anything else has little real value (okay, animals for sacrifice - but blood is such a juvenile view).

Silly folks, all God has given you is your life. An opportunity to serve Him. Oh, you could get out of the exchange cheap if you recognize that God has given you Love, shown you love and only expects your love - then remembering that you love, then you would lay down your life for that love - and the price became too high and you want to go back to the animals, crops and coins with the face of folly on it.

Sorry, I insist you concentrate on Love as your medium of exchange - works better than any Gorilla Glue at holding families together and dear. It builds stronger bonds of community than jealousy and fear will. Yeah, keep working on it, spread it around, depend on it and allow it free flow. Love comes back, or maybe it just binds the tie.

After midnight... and all the

Shucks! Seems like I have lost another chance for Appleseed Instructor glory in April, 2014. The Poulsbo range decided that there just wasn't enough interest in the six that signed up. So they canceled. In May there is the Port Townsend range Appleseed with room for those shooters.

So I begin to wonder if I am driving folks away. It wasn't so long ago that we had a pretty nice Appleseed at Poulsbo.  Like: Poulsbo WA Sept 14-15 2013. It was only a week before we would have Port Townsend, WA. Are we scheduling too many? Isn't there enough 22LR ammunition? Have we reached all the shooters that want to learn? Or are they all still trying to recover from a seemingly long Wet Winter?

In two weeks, I will be at Coupeville, twenty shooters, and I must nudge some more instructors in that direction, we have got to get out of the Winter and into the shooting cycle. Well, like I said, it is after midnight, time to think seriously about sleep. I have to seriously think about getting into hunting season, walking daily, exercising vigorously (passed my pacemaker check this morning), and shooting straight with bouts of tracking and hunting for finding targets in the natural settings.... fun stuff. Good night and God bless all our best, the government will tax and claim all the rest.

What is making you so slow? really?

Noticed this morning, that we didn't turn on the distraction box (cable) and our morning had more minutes in it for our use than normal. We got ahead of ourselves several times and could look back in wonder. I was considering turning off the computer at least for internet access for getting even faster - the speed of light was a very frightening potential result.

Off we went for church, and keeping that happy feeling going, good sermon (added to my Pastor's English 'lineage'). Just looked it up in the dictionary, which was way up high behind the boxes of .45APC. Don't ask for cataloging and book shelving sense in my computer cave, reach for more ammunition than word definitions? Any way he still appreciates it when I find a word he needs to work upon. So I freely gave it away.

Coffee and a doughnut I didn't need from my wife, I got her coffee with creamer and sugar. Told everyone the two weekends this month I wasn't going to be at church, so they adjusted things that could be for my participation - even after I told them they didn't need to... So the 19th will start with singing, and finish with Bible Study and prayer. The 20th is an Easter Service, where I could get baptized if I thought it would improve me. I don't.

Sunday School lessons were on Proverbs treatment of man and money. Good discussion and lessons to be learned. Went off to wait for seaweed soup and rice lunch, which would be after the Korean service finished. Not enough seats, so I stood and noticed they were selling hotdogs, or giving them away. I went to get one, and asked the price (50 cents) so I told them to give nine more away to children that were hungry. Which excited the pretty young ladies that were serving, love to light their eyes up. And I went back to standing, eating my hotdog with everything on it, and talking about what-evers with the other guys. Suddenly three children were holding their hotdogs and waving at me from across the fellowship hall. And later two young people came up to me and thanked me for the hot dogs they had. Nice to be thanked, but I did it for the feeding of the needy. Still remember the quiet polite boy watching others getting free hotdogs, waiting to be invited. So I went up to him and invited him.

It only takes a real invitation to make something happen. The picture is of my missed Appleseed event, yesterday. Drove 173 miles to a closed range and a non-event, then drove safely home thinking about the anti-gun goofs winning. For no better reason than they got the range closed, made sane people do foolish things like blame the tool for the troubles, or frightened off enough people that .22LR ammunition is held too dear to linger on shelves or warehouses. Doesn't matter, I have to keep inviting people to shoot, listen to the heritage and help. An invitation always there.

Land of the Free and home of the Brave...

Title comes from something else I wanted to write about, but Fort Hood, Texas is on the news. One, it is a sad thing that so many are dead and wounded or injured. And the shooter was a service member, a Veteran of the last of Iraq.

The story bothers me, because what has happened in the wars since Vietnam, is the idea that PTSD is everywhere in combat, and needs to be treated and disability applied. That last is where the money is, disability and treatment, untaxed dollars and lifetime privileges. So instead of like most wars, the wounded became a burden on the family or hidden from society in Veterans Homes, now people could make money from them, medical retirements and commissary and exchange benefits forever.

I know the wounded need medical, dental and rejoin polite society adjustments - not that I think re-joining polite society is the highest one should reach for. Still I do want them cared for, but ever since the German chemists and medical doctors started playing with humans to see how far they could go - I have been worried about the idea that a pill can compensate, for any ill. It has never been true, and it doesn't change because we have better chemicals, more science and more research. There are disclaimers on television advertising - side effects include, if you are having suicide thoughts, changes in mood or ... stop taking the medication and consult with a physician. They may put the warning there because of lawyers and law suits, but really it could be that all medications don't treat exactly the same thing in the same way in every patient.

So I always come back to you have to care for them, watch them and their reaction to the treatments - and it would be perfect if you would love your patients, to the point of willing to die for them, but I would be putting some stress on the providers.

While watching one of the exercise groups at the YMCA, I thought to myself that Zumba classes for two years might make the returning troubled veteran much happier than anything the doctors will do. It shouldn't hurt to try it, never saw so many happy sweaty exercisers in in rhythm!

For sure really talk to the vets, eye to eye contact - not looking at your PDA as you twitch your thumbs over the flirt that just showed up.

Never mind me, only someone from some of my wars understands - which is why those treating the wounded have some but not enough idea. And the best doctors and nurses all love their patients. I am not to be trusted, I have been missing my watch since I left the YMCA, several hours ago, and just found it on the other wrist. Sigh, I think I will put the real story of Noah in the VCR, where John Huston does it right.

One date long remembered...

1 April, 1945. I know what my father thought about that day... long before I was born. So don't concern yourself with what you find today, check back tomorrow. I should focus on the normal and mundane there are bills to be paid and flower to see and sweat levels to achieve, my month long no upper body workouts is over, but I will go gently into the night.

Techicolor dreams last night...

Seems that watching Nebraska in black and white will do that to me. Very good movie, just to think a little about. So glad my extended family isn't like that, but Woody had an interesting life and wife. Yes, a very good movie.

I started the Revolutionary War done by the History Channel and realize why I no longer linger when sliding by that channel. Historical re-writes for today's ignorant. Still nice color and somethings were correct, King George was only the Third then.

Fine Bible Study when we could get off the subject of being subjects and subjected to authorities and cultural bias. Heaven is going to surprise us all - most often heard phrase will be 'I didn't see that coming.'.  I think God will do exactly as He wants. Lawyers aren't going to persuade Him at all. Hard to ignore the evidence. IMHO

I am spending too much time on the monitor, since it took me a bit to realize that the letters QC were meant for conversation. I thought they meant Quietly CRYINGoutLOUD! but they meant Quality Control. Too many joined at the hip letters wandering from lazy typists.

Throwback Thursday... way back when

 It is Thursday and for various reasons I ended my day cooling out watching A Bridge too Far. I have marched across that bridge in Holland, was a paratrooper and constantly studied the European theater of WWII. Nice finish for the day spent on mower maintenance and grass clipping. While visiting Facebook before the DVD, I noted it was Throwback Thursday and wondered if I could scan an old picture from a Yearbook of Yesteryear... the Wayback machine in action.

So I looked in the 1964 Yearbook, and found a picture and in the 1963 Yearbook I found two signatures that I scanned to share. Or laugh gently at the memories. I was known for one of the best in Spanish class, an artist, a Brain (was that a curse in those days?), a rising football player (?), leader of the pack rats, a motorcycle enthusiast (didn't own one then nor ride), a rifle shooter, and not to be forgotten... do any of them know my name now? Well, some did years ago when I started chasing folks with computer searches.

The girl in the top picture is in the High School Rifle Team in 1964, the picture is in the gymnasium and that was the year that the girls could shoot in competition with the boys. I like to remember that was the girl that out shot me in the Junior High Rifle Club the year before. The American History teacher, Mister Mauger, was coach for both organizations and signed my 1963 Year book with his red pen.

 The signature on the other page is from one of the girls that didn't think I should shoot so well. As I remember it, we all shot well, and I like to think none of us ended up having a terrible life because of our education and social and sporting activities. There were guns in the schools, in the cars in the parking lot, in the teachers' desks (maybe). There was a rifle in the hands of the Old Mountaineer, with a beard, pipe and jug of moonshine - simple mascot for the school. No, they weren't rednecks, but Lil' Abner was a famous cartoon character of good heart.

I would like to think that my favorite History teacher thinks I have kept up with the rifle, although I didn't join the High School Rifle team. My Revolutionary War Veterans Association is doing well bringing some marksmanship and heritage back into the school systems as we can.  Carver Middle School, Colorado City, Colorado was the most recent example.


Marksmanship in the Classroom   On Facebook one page is dedicated to promoting marksmanship in the classroom. And the CMP, the NRA, and Military Marksmanship Units continue to support and encourage the competition shooting.

The biggest problem of looking back is noting changes, Blue and White were the school colors, the Old Mountaineer the mascot. Now, a larger School district is Black and Red and the mascot is the Ram. Change happens, and there is not a rifle team nor club listed.

Dreams, or sweating the night away...

New pillows on the bed, Costco shopping stop by wife and friends. So I sleep just fine, to be awaken by worried wife since I am sweating while asleep. Some kind of cultural no-no, or just time for her to worry. I did the night before, too. So it isn't the pillows. I think I am rejecting the Borg adaptation, or feeling guilty about the lawn mower? I am not worried, still have coffee and wine in the house and more time to sleep.

Last dream was interesting, my parents attending -- seems my brother was correct, my paranoia is being noticed by the powers that shouldn't be. The Federales are closing in as they decide I am a bit too strange to trust in un-assisted living. Potentially dangerous, is a key term of their fears. My mother is for accepting the political correctness for the sake of her first child's future. Ten Thousand missing in Argentina the last time government got goodness graceless. Spooky.

Bit strips from Facebook. I am just digging up the French Drainage and find the ghost of long ago blogger, with the Librarian Death stare.

Went to the television as the coffee heated up, looking for the latest on the missing airplane and the Indian Ocean, found President Obama lecturing the Europeans on territorial integrity and honoring international boundaries. The Europeans wondering where he went to school, didn't they have any battlefields where one could remember how Napoleon rewrote the Old Order? So much to laugh at in that memorable speech, I thought I was on late night television stand up comedy.

Of important note, since I am very retired I have not concerned myself with filing my income taxes, I once was always finished by the second week of February, but I haven't even looked at them this year. Right after the grass attack, I must put the papers on record for filing. Most of what I hear about the IRS is how they have more to do as the nation gets ducks in order. The trials of the Federal Agencies as they attempt to modify choice, behavior and betterment... King George III would be so proud of his will his way.

What is Liberty and what is there to fear?

Thinking early Monday morning, leaving a warm bed to post a thought on a dead information/entertainment: the blog.

Had a great weekend in Port Townsend, Washington. Appleseed event for ten on Saturday, eight on Sunday. Cold a bit on the first day, warmed up with Sunshine on second day. Nice facility for shooting, have been there before. Since then it seems they are under attack, or threat of attack by anti-gun goofs. Sneaking in taking soil samples, pictures and creative havocs un-noticed so far. Because of that the Super Secret Executive Board passed rules against taking photographs, soil samples and doing un-authorized stuff.... or something. Do you see how easily terrorists will use fears to manipulate the mass? So being a fine law abiding citizen I took my pictures and will not expose the once fine shooting club to snipes, snarks and snears of the unwashed heathen anti-gun goofs. I had one video and fifty-four digital master pieces, and now I don't.

So George was the shoot boss, Jay was an IIT and coordinator with host range and sponsor of many of the young shooters - providing rifles and ammunition and transportation. Ralph and Brian were there as IIT and emergency coverage and we worked well as a crew. I was just there for texture.

I will have to work harder on my upcoming Appleseeds, finding crew, cutting my words to the need to be remembered, not the larger need to be spoken. Good attitudes went a long way this weekend.

It must be real Spring here, Brian talked of riding his motorcycle up to a restaurant for some fine Southern pie, we had a great instructor meal there - food was so fine I forgot to ask the waitress to consider coming to our next Appleseed event and learning marksmanship and our heritage. No worry, I have a motorcycle, as soon as the Pacemaker implants heal deeply enough I might be able to lift the motorcycle back up and ride up there to ask her. It really was fine Southern cooking.

Five teens on Saturday, four on Sunday, three parent-child groups, one semi-pro shooter going for his 250 score on a red AQT, he was at the constant 235 point on his AQTs this weekend. We had something to offer all of them, and what they wanted they took and worked on. An Appleseed won't fix all the potential greatness, just a couple points at a time.

High tech, one of the shooters (she who shot the sighting square displayed above) showed me her phone on Sunday with the video (with music) her mother had shot on Saturday as we ran the course of fire. I am now a music video star, or just the big old man hollering the line commands. It was really neat to see, and I was looking forward to seeing it better on my computer monitor at home - but it had to be taken down, because the Executive Board has declared that digital data un-approved of will not stand. Sigh, what was the Revolution about? Liberty? or chains of restrictive measures to make certain nothing ever gets done, shared or proudly displayed? Well, if you don't know, come to an Appleseed and we will tell you what we think.

Be of good heart, what I have always loved about the RWVA, is teaching marksmanship, introducing our Heritage and winning smiles and acceptance by strangers of my shy self. Thank God for smiles, the best reward I have ever gotten.