I've been on the road recently (sans RV) to partake in the annual migration of ham radio aficionados to Dayton Ohio. For here is Hamvention. The Oscars, Academy Awards, and Grammies of the amateur radio hobby all rolled into one. Like lemmings to the sea, we fly, drive and waddle to the jumble of high tech toys and old tech junk scattered amongst four buildings and 10 acres of asphalt. Braving whatever weather shows up, we trudge through the open-air flea market looking at stuff most (no all) wives would quickly have in the trash yet we pause, fondle, negotiate, and scheme how these treasures will enhance our radio lives in some special way. We journey through the several buildings seeking out that unique new gadget that will transform us or our station into something better than we already are.
I had not been to the convention for about about five years so it was a way to re-ignite my old hobby. Friends Bill and George also made the trip so it was just like the old days.
Three days of shopping for radio stuff, would seem to most a general waste of time but to hams, Dayton is like no other place. And besides the radio stuff there is a town full of great restuaruants and the finest aircraft musuem in the world.
The thought of being able to sit in your house and talk with someone in the next state, in Europe, in Asia, in South America, almost anywhere without a cell phone or a plane ticket is still pretty neat. The challenges of building a basic radio station with a couple of hundred bucks or a mega station costing tens of thousands; the process is both exciting and rewarding. Literally something for everyone of all ages.
For those of us in the RV world, ham radio is yet another opportunity to stay connected with others as we travel and share our experiences. So if you're ever get into the hobby and hear me on the air, give me call back. My call is N8FPI. and 73's to all. (ham radio talk for "Best Regards")
Still livin the dream
Phil
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Frank the Photographer
He was sitting alone watching the clothes dryer spin. A cane at his side, his arthritic hands folded in his lap.
The laundromat was almost empty this late afternoon as Sharon picked out the washers she wanted to use and I settled in to read a magazine. The old man got up from his seat and came over to the magazine rack near where I was sitting. His gait revealed a slight limp; on his head a crumpled Knights of Columbus ball cap. He looked through the magazines and turned and gave me a glance over. His sharp blue eyes peered over his glasses as he walked by but stopped momentarily and held up a teen magazine and said "not much to choose from". I agreed... but in my pause to find another subject to talk about, he said something about being an Army photographer and the pictures in the magazine he was holding. I didn't quite catch all of what he said but muttered back something just to be polite. About 80 years of age I guessed, standing with a slight stoop, propped up with his rather ornately carved cane. Since I was an old Army photographer myself, I thought we might have something in common.
"Name's Frank" he said. And for the next hour or so he spilled out most of his life's story to me. And quite a story it was. From his high school days at Taft High School in Chicago as a yearbook photographer to his enlistment in the Army two days after graduation. His photo assignments in Europe covering the Battle of the Bulge to the horrors of Auschwitz, and to his touching story of smuggling some unusual contraband out of Europe when he was reassigned to the States.
As he told his stories I was intrigued by his use of the word 'contraband' and before I could press him on the subject he volunteered the story. Apparently he and several members of his photographic unit had come across a young German boy whose family had been killed near where he was camped. They took the boy back to their camp made him into their 'tent boy'. Probably charged with cleaning up after the group, making beds and general 'go-fer' tasks, they provided shelter and a temporary home for the boy. The war in Europe was ending and the photo group was being disbanded and sent home. The group of four concocted a scheme to smuggle the boy in a duffel bag aboard the Navy ship that was taking them home. All went reasonably well in the beginning but when finally at sea the young lad was discovered by the ships personnel and the problem of what to do now with him came to the forefront.
As the story unfolded, Frank was obviously pretty proud of what he and buddies had done but now the reality of what was to happen to the boy became a serious question. They had been told prior to leaving port that if any contraband was later discovered it would be dumped at sea so don't bring any aboard. Not knowing what the boys fate would be, they made it known that one of Franks buddies would be willing to adopt the boy if possible.
Their journey home was to take them across the Atlantic, through the Panama Canal and then on to an undisclosed port on the west coast. Apparently along the way provisions were made, while at the Panama Canal, to proceed with the adoption and the boy and his soon to be parent, left the ship and proceeded home. I asked Frank what had become of the young boy and he said he settled in New York state with his new parents and now grown had his own family and children. Frank said it has been almost 20 years since he'd talked with him and thought it best to let him not be bothered by the past so has not corresponded with him since.
Frank got a surprise after leaving Panama as the ship headed directly for the Philippines rather than the planned west coast stop. WWII was still raging with Japan and photographers were still needed to record the effort. Stories unfolded of meeting up with a survivor of the Bataan death march and who later became a life-long friend and seeing the aftermath of the atomic blast at Nagasaki, painted a picture of someone who not only had seen a lot in his life but whose memories were still vivid and revealing.
After the war Frank set up a photo processing company in Chicago with a couple of his buddies handling all the photo work for Montgomery Wards department store. He later sold that business and moved to the South Haven area were he purchased a retail paint store. A life long bachelor he recounted one story of dating a widowed women some years ago who had several children and grand children. He reminisced that she would have been a good catch and that he could have had a ready made family but she it hadn't worked out.
Thinking about my short time with Frank clarified something that all of us really want and need in our later years. Someone to listen to our stories and tell of our life experiences (hence this blog) . It's sort of a validation process that what we've done in our lives is worth something. That maybe someone would want to do something or see things like you have. I continue to be rewarded by these little experiences while travelling and hope you enjoy the stories.
Still livin' the dream
Phil
The laundromat was almost empty this late afternoon as Sharon picked out the washers she wanted to use and I settled in to read a magazine. The old man got up from his seat and came over to the magazine rack near where I was sitting. His gait revealed a slight limp; on his head a crumpled Knights of Columbus ball cap. He looked through the magazines and turned and gave me a glance over. His sharp blue eyes peered over his glasses as he walked by but stopped momentarily and held up a teen magazine and said "not much to choose from". I agreed... but in my pause to find another subject to talk about, he said something about being an Army photographer and the pictures in the magazine he was holding. I didn't quite catch all of what he said but muttered back something just to be polite. About 80 years of age I guessed, standing with a slight stoop, propped up with his rather ornately carved cane. Since I was an old Army photographer myself, I thought we might have something in common.
"Name's Frank" he said. And for the next hour or so he spilled out most of his life's story to me. And quite a story it was. From his high school days at Taft High School in Chicago as a yearbook photographer to his enlistment in the Army two days after graduation. His photo assignments in Europe covering the Battle of the Bulge to the horrors of Auschwitz, and to his touching story of smuggling some unusual contraband out of Europe when he was reassigned to the States.
As he told his stories I was intrigued by his use of the word 'contraband' and before I could press him on the subject he volunteered the story. Apparently he and several members of his photographic unit had come across a young German boy whose family had been killed near where he was camped. They took the boy back to their camp made him into their 'tent boy'. Probably charged with cleaning up after the group, making beds and general 'go-fer' tasks, they provided shelter and a temporary home for the boy. The war in Europe was ending and the photo group was being disbanded and sent home. The group of four concocted a scheme to smuggle the boy in a duffel bag aboard the Navy ship that was taking them home. All went reasonably well in the beginning but when finally at sea the young lad was discovered by the ships personnel and the problem of what to do now with him came to the forefront.
As the story unfolded, Frank was obviously pretty proud of what he and buddies had done but now the reality of what was to happen to the boy became a serious question. They had been told prior to leaving port that if any contraband was later discovered it would be dumped at sea so don't bring any aboard. Not knowing what the boys fate would be, they made it known that one of Franks buddies would be willing to adopt the boy if possible.
Their journey home was to take them across the Atlantic, through the Panama Canal and then on to an undisclosed port on the west coast. Apparently along the way provisions were made, while at the Panama Canal, to proceed with the adoption and the boy and his soon to be parent, left the ship and proceeded home. I asked Frank what had become of the young boy and he said he settled in New York state with his new parents and now grown had his own family and children. Frank said it has been almost 20 years since he'd talked with him and thought it best to let him not be bothered by the past so has not corresponded with him since.
Frank got a surprise after leaving Panama as the ship headed directly for the Philippines rather than the planned west coast stop. WWII was still raging with Japan and photographers were still needed to record the effort. Stories unfolded of meeting up with a survivor of the Bataan death march and who later became a life-long friend and seeing the aftermath of the atomic blast at Nagasaki, painted a picture of someone who not only had seen a lot in his life but whose memories were still vivid and revealing.
After the war Frank set up a photo processing company in Chicago with a couple of his buddies handling all the photo work for Montgomery Wards department store. He later sold that business and moved to the South Haven area were he purchased a retail paint store. A life long bachelor he recounted one story of dating a widowed women some years ago who had several children and grand children. He reminisced that she would have been a good catch and that he could have had a ready made family but she it hadn't worked out.
Thinking about my short time with Frank clarified something that all of us really want and need in our later years. Someone to listen to our stories and tell of our life experiences (hence this blog) . It's sort of a validation process that what we've done in our lives is worth something. That maybe someone would want to do something or see things like you have. I continue to be rewarded by these little experiences while travelling and hope you enjoy the stories.
Still livin' the dream
Phil
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Okay ... We can do this
Kicking back ... sleeping in ... who cares what time it is.. kind of life. Well not exactly, but close. Getting into the rhythm of no rhythm isn't as easy as it sounds but we're improving daily.
We visited a few of our old haunts; you know WalMart, several of the local bistros. the local Rite Aid. Must not made too great of an impression last year as no one remembered us. But then again we didn't remember them either. So it's kinda' like starting anew. Fresh and exciting all over again.
Speaking of fresh and exciting... my old college buddy Rick and co-champion at the euchre table from our college days, sent me a rather dated photo with the tantalizing caption "do you know this handsome guy"?
We visited a few of our old haunts; you know WalMart, several of the local bistros. the local Rite Aid. Must not made too great of an impression last year as no one remembered us. But then again we didn't remember them either. So it's kinda' like starting anew. Fresh and exciting all over again.
Speaking of fresh and exciting... my old college buddy Rick and co-champion at the euchre table from our college days, sent me a rather dated photo with the tantalizing caption "do you know this handsome guy"?
After careful inspection I do concede some resemblance. What do you think? I think the photo was taken around 1975 so the ravages of time have indeed taken a toll. However, in a somewhat lame defense, my mind is still semi-sharp and I still don't smoke but I am starting to drool some. And of course my eyes are still steely blue somewhere behind those bags.
We've been putzing around camp getting some flowers planted, some new solar lights, and trying to stifle the ant population. Pesky little buggers that find their way around the campsite with an occasional one discovering a secrete passage into the coach. A fatal mistake for all of them so far.
My good friend Bill stopped by the other day and brought me some RV supplies from Camping World. A couple of neat teak tables and a fitting for a sewer hose I'd asked him to pick up if he was in the area. A great help saving me a 100 mile round trip.
Today, this Mother's Day eve, we did a little shopping in Grand Rapids and returned in time to stop at the 'What Not Inn' just north of our camp. A homey little bar/grill that is always packed with an ever changing crowd of summer residents and vacationers. The food is good, not gourmet but better than most in the area. The atmosphere is easy and unpretentious. Tonight was live blues music. It was nirvana for me. Front row table, a nice steak, a tall glass of beer, foot thumping blues, and of course my vote for Mother of the Year... my bride Sharon.
So for all you Mothers out there, and mother wanna-bees ... have a great day! Most of us don't say it enough, nor show it enough but we really do appreciate all you do.
Still livin' the dream
Phil
Monday, May 4, 2009
Settling in ...
We made the 150 mile trip south to South Haven; our new summer hangout. Getting out of the casino in Manistee was long over due as a couple of days of getting financially beat up was enough. A great place to visit none-the-less and we'll return someday for another go at it.
Of course the trip was really about getting together with our old friends; something that we greatly treasure.
Along the way we thought we'd do a little bear hunting with our friends George and Paula. (Bet you didn't guess this did you) Now the season isn't quite open yet but when you need a bear... you need a bear. Not just any bear but one that stood about 5 foot at the shoulder and weighed about 300 pounds. We had seen such a critter a couple of days ago near the intersection of M10 and M31. Normally not a hot spot for bruin hunting but all of us saw that very bear not two days prior and thought we do the hunt anyway. I parked the coach several miles east and George transported us back to the hunting grounds in his 4x4. We slowly approach the site only to discover there were more of the critters than we had expected. Many little ones but only a few adults. Paula's keen eyes picked out the trophy of the group and the hunt began. I saw him immediately and he was quite a specimen. Strong, broad shoulders. Standing on his rear legs he was taller than expected easily looking me directly in the eye. His fur was a little coarse and unkempt but since this was a spring bear just emerging from hibernation, he didn't have the smooth coat of a fall bear. He was surprisingly quite and well mannered for such a beast. Standing quite still, and staring off into the distance... maybe wondering where his next meal will come from; his demeanor was majestic and he was obviously the 'big dog on the porch' around these parts. Paula was ready to take the beast but double checked with her guide and suddenly decided to wait for a more perfect specimen. The drama quickly subsided and we were driven back to the coach to continue our trip south. An exciting day to say the least.
You know hunting for a chainsaw carved bear statue can be gruelling work but when you're retired you seek out all the excitement you can.
Actually the bear statue is slated to guard in the entrance of the 'beer cave' at Geoff's (Paula and George's son) new party store in Battle Creek (Duffy's). A novel design feature that will help establish the stores identity.
Silliness aside... day was a very special one as it is Sharon's birthday. Forever young in heart and soul she is the crown jewel of the family. We all love her dearly and we're planning many more years of laughter and good times together.
We're almost completely settled at our summer site as of this evening but with just a few more odds and ends to complete tomorrow. It looks like a number of last year's group have already returned and we look forward to hearing of their winter journeys. The weather is perfect and all is good.
Still 'livin the dream'
Phil & Sharon
Of course the trip was really about getting together with our old friends; something that we greatly treasure.
Along the way we thought we'd do a little bear hunting with our friends George and Paula. (Bet you didn't guess this did you) Now the season isn't quite open yet but when you need a bear... you need a bear. Not just any bear but one that stood about 5 foot at the shoulder and weighed about 300 pounds. We had seen such a critter a couple of days ago near the intersection of M10 and M31. Normally not a hot spot for bruin hunting but all of us saw that very bear not two days prior and thought we do the hunt anyway. I parked the coach several miles east and George transported us back to the hunting grounds in his 4x4. We slowly approach the site only to discover there were more of the critters than we had expected. Many little ones but only a few adults. Paula's keen eyes picked out the trophy of the group and the hunt began. I saw him immediately and he was quite a specimen. Strong, broad shoulders. Standing on his rear legs he was taller than expected easily looking me directly in the eye. His fur was a little coarse and unkempt but since this was a spring bear just emerging from hibernation, he didn't have the smooth coat of a fall bear. He was surprisingly quite and well mannered for such a beast. Standing quite still, and staring off into the distance... maybe wondering where his next meal will come from; his demeanor was majestic and he was obviously the 'big dog on the porch' around these parts. Paula was ready to take the beast but double checked with her guide and suddenly decided to wait for a more perfect specimen. The drama quickly subsided and we were driven back to the coach to continue our trip south. An exciting day to say the least.
You know hunting for a chainsaw carved bear statue can be gruelling work but when you're retired you seek out all the excitement you can.
Actually the bear statue is slated to guard in the entrance of the 'beer cave' at Geoff's (Paula and George's son) new party store in Battle Creek (Duffy's). A novel design feature that will help establish the stores identity.
Silliness aside... day was a very special one as it is Sharon's birthday. Forever young in heart and soul she is the crown jewel of the family. We all love her dearly and we're planning many more years of laughter and good times together.
We're almost completely settled at our summer site as of this evening but with just a few more odds and ends to complete tomorrow. It looks like a number of last year's group have already returned and we look forward to hearing of their winter journeys. The weather is perfect and all is good.
Still 'livin the dream'
Phil & Sharon
Saturday, May 2, 2009
On the road again...
We're rolling now. First stop was a quick one just East of Traverse City Michigan at a lovely, and empty, parking lot at the Turtle Creek Casino and Resort. Free use of the parking lot for the coach was the chosen alternative to the $159/night rate at the adjoining hotel. Makes us feel good saving all that money. Of course our journey getting here was not without a bit of drama.
Seems we miscalculated the approaching storm as I had planned to hit the road just ahead of it and avoid driving in it. We left a little late and managed to stay in the midst of it the entire drive. Just to top off the last hour the low water light came on indicating something was amiss with the engine. Checking the temp gage proved the sensor was not quite accurate as the engine was a normal operating temperatures. However what really irritates is the blaring racket that accompanies the little red light on the dash. This obnoxious siren is in your face and ears and makes you want to jam your fist right through the dash and make it stop. I know it there for a purpose but couldn't they have a sexy voiced woman tell you your water is low and let it go at that?
Anyway we arrived shortly after our old friends Bill and June arrived in their classic GMC motorhome. It's always good to travel in pairs as you sometimes need someone to share your misery with. They too had not made the trip with some issues. Seems there was a small opening in one of the fender wells that allowed a path to flood the carpeted floor throughout their coach. Since carrying a wet/dry shop vac is something most don't normally pack, fans and mopping up with towels got most of the job done.
We ventured into the new casino later that evening for a short and very unrewarding experience. Nice place to visit but we're moving on to our next stop... Little River Casino and Resort.
A stop we've made several times before and one we really enjoy. Not just because we've made a few bucks in the past here but because their RV park is first rate. Well maintained and their shuttle drops you off and picks you up right at your door. Not if that isn't lazy decadence I don't what is. Compared to Turtle Creek this place was booming with people. To be fair it's Thursday compared to Friday's crowd but I think in general Little River draws more people. Anyway we had a great early dinner at a restaurant on M55 just down the road and returned to try our hand at a little gambling. So so results with some of us winning... some of us losing. Didn't spend much time there but it was fun just the same. Saturday our other good friends, George and Paula will be joining us from Battle Creek but they gave up the RV life years ago and will have to rough it one of the hotel suites.
This 2009 season is starting off on a great note especially since we're with our good friends. We hope they can join us whenever their schedules permit. It really makes our travels all the more special. Thanks for joining us...we hope you enjoy the journey
Still .... "livin' the dream" Phil & Sharon
Seems we miscalculated the approaching storm as I had planned to hit the road just ahead of it and avoid driving in it. We left a little late and managed to stay in the midst of it the entire drive. Just to top off the last hour the low water light came on indicating something was amiss with the engine. Checking the temp gage proved the sensor was not quite accurate as the engine was a normal operating temperatures. However what really irritates is the blaring racket that accompanies the little red light on the dash. This obnoxious siren is in your face and ears and makes you want to jam your fist right through the dash and make it stop. I know it there for a purpose but couldn't they have a sexy voiced woman tell you your water is low and let it go at that?
Anyway we arrived shortly after our old friends Bill and June arrived in their classic GMC motorhome. It's always good to travel in pairs as you sometimes need someone to share your misery with. They too had not made the trip with some issues. Seems there was a small opening in one of the fender wells that allowed a path to flood the carpeted floor throughout their coach. Since carrying a wet/dry shop vac is something most don't normally pack, fans and mopping up with towels got most of the job done.
We ventured into the new casino later that evening for a short and very unrewarding experience. Nice place to visit but we're moving on to our next stop... Little River Casino and Resort.
A stop we've made several times before and one we really enjoy. Not just because we've made a few bucks in the past here but because their RV park is first rate. Well maintained and their shuttle drops you off and picks you up right at your door. Not if that isn't lazy decadence I don't what is. Compared to Turtle Creek this place was booming with people. To be fair it's Thursday compared to Friday's crowd but I think in general Little River draws more people. Anyway we had a great early dinner at a restaurant on M55 just down the road and returned to try our hand at a little gambling. So so results with some of us winning... some of us losing. Didn't spend much time there but it was fun just the same. Saturday our other good friends, George and Paula will be joining us from Battle Creek but they gave up the RV life years ago and will have to rough it one of the hotel suites.This 2009 season is starting off on a great note especially since we're with our good friends. We hope they can join us whenever their schedules permit. It really makes our travels all the more special. Thanks for joining us...we hope you enjoy the journey
Still .... "livin' the dream" Phil & Sharon
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