Erica Jong predicts that, should her favored presidential candidate not win? Blood in the streets. A second civil war. You’ve got to wonder how people – even shallow, inconsequential pornography writers – become so damned infantilized. Come to think that their preferences are discovered writ. Sound so fricken’ stupid. I mean, there was a twenty minute period back there at the end of the 70′s where Erica Jong was actually famous.
It was a strange time.
There are election promises that everyone knows no one is going to keep. And then there are those we desperately wish some one would keep. Susan Sarandon, Michael Stipe, one of those Baldwin people, Heidi Klum and Seal – Seal – promise to leave America if McCain wins, and settle somewhere else.
(Who knew that Seal was still here?)
More of that, “I’ll love you if” passive aggressive emotional abuse.
Just don’t question their patriotism.
–
One of those who wrote me privately after my “Dream Machines” post recommended ferrying sport divers to their drop-off points. There’s a little bit of money in it, and I’m sure it’d be fun. For a while.
But I had to tell him:
Ferrying jumpers hither and yon is a good way to build hours, but I’ve already got a lot of those, and I’m certain it would become repetitive after a while, at least for me. Hell, towards the end of my active flying career I was already bored to tears with flying red air missions, not to mention carrier landing practice. And that was in FA-18s. God’s jet.
One of the things I dream about is simply the freedom of flight. Getting up and just. Going. Somewhere. Those light utilities appeal to me because they promise access to forgotten, out of the way places. There’s mystery and adventure in that.
Flying is a great good in its own right, but it has to have a purpose. And perhaps sadly, at this point in life, it has to have a purpose greater than throwing another hundred hours in the log book, or even earning a buck or two (although paid flight time is surely welcome). Seeing the light come into somebody’s eye when he gets it does that. As does squeaking a pair of fatties into some gravel bar on a river bend, just for the challenge that’s in it. Going somewhere, doing something. That’s the ticket.
–
People around here make a huge fuss over Hallowe’en. Street decorations, light shows. We have need of our celebrations of course. Something engrained in us, communal. It helps that it’s “for the kids.”
Still, looking forward a bit to our next set of ACLU lawsuits over the abomination of créches situated on public property, the next person who kindly tells me, “Happy Hollidays” as I buy my Christmas tree, I can’t help thinking that Hallowee’n celebrations are essentially meaningless, ephemeral. Shallow. That it supplants something sacred that used to exist in our lives, something we felt proud about, rather than being furtive over.
Things move in cycles, I guess. Hallowe’en is a survivor or the pagan Celtic tradition of Samhain, subsumed by the early Christian church in much the same way that Christmas took the place of ancient Roman solar festivals.
Now it’s back again.
–
More US Marines died in motorcycle crashes in the US last year than died in Iraq.
–
Pensive, tonight. As if you couldn’t tell.
Did you ever fall in love and buy something, only to be faced with buyer’s remorse afterwards? Wondered if you’d made the correct choice?
I’m a subscriber to an email distribution called “NAVNET,” essentially a networking organization for transitioning service members. Guy knows of a job somewhere with skills sets gained in the Navy, and he forwards it to this other guy, who forwards it to all the rest of us. There’s a job on the wire in Fort Worth that looks tailor made for your correspondent’s skills. Setting up the tactical training of junior F-35 jocks. Points on for instructional experience and weapons school cred.
I’ve got some of that.
We could sell the manse here in Sandy Eggo, buy something ret nice with acreage and never a mortgage payment to make, no state taxes and have a little left over for both a horse and an airplane. Rather than living from paycheck to paycheck on what ought to be an objectively absurd amount of money, and cringing in the corner, awaiting the blow of my middle class “tax cut.”
But that’d mean tearing a 14-year old girl away from her friends, which we’ve done enough of that in our time to last us forever.
I’ve often wished that you could split at each important choice in life. Go both ways, each time a fork in the road came up. Compare notes at the end, those of us that made it to the clearing at the end of the path. Tell it all over a tumbler of smokey, single malt.
But you only get to play one quarter, and you balance what’s wanted with what’s needed. You do the best you can.
If I ever did make it to that clearing, I’d tell the myriad me of those uncertain futures that at this moment in my life, I had to push away from the keyboard because the doorbell was ringing, and kids were singing “trick or treat!”
Pagans or not, they will not be denied.
–
Have a great weekend.
“ferrying sport divers to their drop-off points.”
Dive Deep…Fly High
or is it the other way ’round…?
Lex,
theres something to be said about the retirement place sans the mortgage payment. And the Biscuit may lke the idea of a horse of her own in “Horse Country”. And the plane, just a little bonus.
Think you’d rather enjoy Texas…time for a family pow wow….
I’ve often wished that you could split at each important choice in life. Go both ways, each time a fork in the road came up. Compare notes at the end, those of us that made it to the clearing at the end of the path. Tell it all over a tumbler of smokey, single malt.
Well said, Lex.
Greeting from an old haunt of yours. Thanks for the musing. Love ‘em every time.
Though, I can’t say I agree with the Michael Stipe. That he should leave? Maybe… but their latest was so darn good…
Then again, I’m sure they have recording equipment in Canada.
Just got done taking the kiddos trick or treating. VERY interesting. All the houses with kids were full on decorated, and all the military houses were ready and willing to dish out candy in gobs. Everyone else? Not so much. Most houses turned their lights off to avoid the annoyance. Kind of a bummer, if you ask me.
Re: ferrying jumpers. No, no no. You want to ferry planes. Buddy of mine spent his summers working for Extra delivering brand new planes to buyers and dealers all over the country. Built up a ton of time and made a (very) little coin. Also, didn’t have to deal with the I-paid-so-I’m-entitled public.
Tex Lex – it has a nice ring to it
As an expatriated San Diegan, I can tell you what I miss and what I surely do not.
I dearly miss the ocean, the beach, and the Mission Beach Pier. The Mission Beach Pier was a great place to go think at 0200 when life’s web got a bit too tangled.
I miss the ocean – the smell and taste of salt water and the way a mango tasted so much better after a couple of hours on a surfboard with the salt still on my tongue.
I also miss La Jolla, Coronado, and the Torrey Pines glider port. I spent many hours guiding a 2 meter sailplane between manned aircraft above Blacks Beach via radio waves – a time I’ll not forget. Many nights passed with friends at the Pannikin and looking in the windows at Symbolic Motors.
I don’t miss the politics or the congestion of development. Here in Fabulous Las Vegas you can be in the middle of nowhere in 30 minutes no matter which direction you travel. Target shooting is done just about anywhere on BLM land of which there are millions of acres. Dry lake beds support many other activities. And there’s FIREWORKS!
I can’t find fault in either of your possible paths, but I know that 14 year old girls make new friends and it’s good to be without bills.
Best wishes and Godspeed, Sir!
Living in Seattle provides plenty of sailing to any number of destinations, where even the day sail just to get a burger in Winslow is relaxing. Every time out is different, and once you get back you think “You know, that was a good idea.”
I know that thing about uprooting a 14yr old…life changing event it is…
Sorry, Claudio. No offense meant, but Sandy Eggo for Texas? Not when you’re SoCal born and bred. The sand and the sea get in your hair and in your blood, and there’s nothing for it but to be there.
PS The little critters are just so cute tonight!
Hope y’all are having fun with ‘em like I am.
Mongo,
One of my favorite times of the year. When my son was but a lad of 5 summers, I asked what he wanted to be for Halloween. He thought it over for a couple minutes, then said straight out “A door. I wanna be a door”.
Now THAT was an interesting few minutes. He was determined to be a door, so a door he would be. I had a couple spare cabinet handles from a recent remodeling job, cut 2 rectangular peices of particle board, and with two sections of leather strap to set them as a sandwich board, and some half-round molding, VOILA! a door he was.
To top it off, I got a hold of one of those plastic tiaras, cut off the pointy bits to leave just the headband, and cut an EXIT sign to fit on top.
Lemmee tell you there were some right confused folks that answered their doors that night.
Q: “And what are you, little boy?”
A: “I’m a door!”
long pregnant silence……
“Well now, isn’t that nice!. Here, have some candy”.
Priceless times, and too quickly they pass.
15 years later he’s a paratrooper. Still likes to dress up, though…
and now he’s going out the door…of an airplane…
Whoo Hoo!
The boys are in bed having been thoroughy worn out from the evening’s festivities, mostly consisting of a nice walk about on a beautiful fall evening here in the midwest.
I’ve posted hereabouts before on reasons for leaving soCal and feeling all the better for it. You nailed it when you mentioned the economic factors of it (retirement pay and an income oughta be enough). Pretty easy here, not so much in San Diego, Orange, Ventura (pick a hundred other counties). More importantly though are all the more important things (less stress, slower pace, not feeling like I gotta be EP/1 in my second career – even though I still work that way).
Our choice was easier. Too easy. The boys are way young; not the same as the effect on a teenage daughter, especially as you say has been done quite enough.
Still, it doesn’t lessen the pull does it? And the forks keep coming.
Mongo,
None taken of course. I agree with you re the salt and the sea…Since I left home early on, never lived farther than 30 minutes from a beach. Having never met the author other than through this medium, he strikes me more as one who’s more comfortable in the air vs on a Laser.
Was thinking that not having the mortgage, having a horse for the daughter AND a plane, would merit the move to Texas. And Texas is a pretty good place. Have P-3 and VQ friends hanging around Dallas and having lots of fun. Flying F-35s vs the weekend tourist may be a little more fun too. In the end, tis nothing but a balance game, give this to get that…if it’s worth it…go for it. Although the point re uprooting the youngin does sting…thus my retirement and the house, and the plan to be here till she goes to college. She did ask me bout a horse again today…only 4, but most neighbors have horses and she gets to ride every once in a while.
Trick or treating was a blast as usual, we do a neighborhood hayride with a tractor. Driveways usually pretty long, so after about 20 homes…by the time we get to our house, she’s pooped, but hyped on chocolate. Fun every year. Last year I was a pirate, she was a cowgirl. This year she picked a Whoopee Cushion for me. Fortunately, all sold out. While rummaging through my closet she spotted the corner with the uniforms…”Wear the green one daddy, the pretty one with all the colors”. She was only 2 when I retired, and doesn’t remember the flight suit. But while my wife always refered to it as my green pajamas, this was the first time I heard it referred to as “pretty with all the colors” (blue and gold wing patch, WTU patch/name tag, flag). What can I say, she has good taste.
Good day, well worth missing out on another 2.5% retirement increase, raise, promotions, per diem, even Navy friends, and all the rest navy fun that lasted for 20years and 10 days.
So I’m thinking the author may sacrifice whatever he may enjoy, for the little one to enjoy whatever she wants…most of us would I think.
No can argue with that, Claudio…
Few things in life make the Grinch smile like a bunch of expectant knee knawers holding up their loot baskets, all the while threatening the poor ol’ Grinchmeister with visions of evil deeds on the odd chance he doesn’t succumb to their demands for tasty morsels of chocolately goodness.
My 5-yr old daughter dressed up as Mulan again this year – a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Chinese princess, that is. People were giving her extra candy just ‘cuz she’s so cute. I swear, her sack o’ loot must weigh ten pounds – maybe because most of the old folks in our neighborhood don’t get too many kids dropping by, so they tend to make up for it when the opportunity presents itself.
Oh, and I was wondering – how many different interpretations of “squeaking a pair of fatties” are there? I’m sure Nose and Snake can come up with a few alternates…
/Semper Fi
Sadly, I cannot comment with authority on the topic of flying why’s and why nots. But I will notice that Stephen Coonts, who flew God’s real airplane, went flying for no purpose at all but to fly. The Cannibal Queen remains his best book to date. Our host may not have the wherewithal to buy a Stearman (hey, WRITE A BOOK, LEX!) but should he go flying, a tour in a slow plane sounds the way to go…
Lex ~ Having been blessed to realize early on in my adult life everything my Daddy did for me, my hope is that your daughter will come to recognize and appreciate the sacrifices you’ve made (and continue to make) for her. And I hope she does so sooner rather than later.
But even if she doesn’t, she is incredibly blessed to have you as her father.
Though, if it were me, I’d opt for the horse in Texas. I miss SoCal but not enough to ever want to live there again.
Here in Italy, Halloween is yet another excuse for Italians dependent on American largesse to swarm the base with their hands out. But today, All Saint’s Day, and tomorrow, All Soul’s Day, remain serious holidays in the oldest sense of the word, and the necropoli are filled till late in the night with those come to remember their forebears. The closest I had in Maine was going to the old cemetaries and cleaning the graves, restanding the GAR plaques and posting flags for Memorial Day.
As one who was moved often as an Air Force brat, back when the move was yearly, I offer that 14 is a better time than 16. But perhaps a resident of Texas can advise on the layers of hidden costs involved in moving to a state with no income tax. I know that guys from the wing moving to Ft Worth had grand visions in their eyes, but were soon taken aback with the unanticipated costs.
Yes, a state with no income taxes is very nice (says he in Fla., where we tax tourists, God bless ‘em) Of course, you’d have to give up wildfires and earthquakes for tornados and hurricanes, but hey, even Paradise wasn’t perfect, just ask Adam
Lex,
Re your choices about flying. Have you ever tried soaring? It is the purest pleasure to be gained in flight. Gas bills are cheaper. There are some beautiful sailplanes on the market.
I did three years in Dallas area in the early 90s and absolutely loved it.
Best house I ever owned at a fraction of Chicago prices. Warm continental climate. Friendly neighbors from everywhere. Sound prevailing values.
Downsides: unimaginably big hail; August.
I am giving serious consideration to moving out of Maine this next year. The main reason is that I am just not able to keep ahead of the rising cost of living here, and the oppressive state is making it damned near impossible to start a new business.
My two older kids are 22 & 20, the older in college (senior year) and the 20 year old in the Army. The young’n still at home is 10 (God has a wicked sense of humour, you know?). She’s in the 5th grade and when she finishes it up, she’ll have to transfger to a new school anyway, as the elementary schools here only go up that far. We then have a true middle school with 6th through 8th grade, and a 4-year high school.
So, the summer would be a good time for the move so as to minimize the disruption in her life.
I’ve got three places in mind: Texas, Utah. and North Carolina, in that order. All have family connections.
I spent a few months some time back in southwest Texas working on a documentary. About 40 miles east of Del Rio. Nice country, good climate. Close to a lot of places. Good food too
So I understand a lot about what Lex is considering. To my mind, the main consideration is the short term effects of disruption, versus the long-term effects of what could be a great adventure.
If I stay here, it means trying to do more with less, or at best, not losing anything else. With a move, comes options. It won’t guarantee things will be better, but there are, at least, options.
respects,
Sorry Humble, we are the kind who usually don’t even stay home on Halloween. We eat dinner out and leave the house dark.
Last night? I’ve been sick for 3 days so we huddled in our family room in our finished basement, leaving the upstairs dark. Watched “Ironman”, ate popcorn – good times for us.
Tim – I hear ya about leaving Maine; New England in general is like what you describe. Try living in CT…oppressive, expensive, etc…
Except that I love New England and don’t think I could live anywhere else. That said, at some point when I reach retirement (will it come for my generation???) I may consider the southwest, if only for the dry air. Which as a severe asthmatic has its own appeal.
Lex and AW1 Tim … the great state of Texas would surely appreciate having such fine folks as yourselves as citizens. I’m not an accountant, so I can’t detail the “hidden costs” of such a move, but just consider the advantages that would accrue to you and yours.
You can own guns and shoot guns and get concealed carry permits to carry guns. Texans love hunting and fishing and do it a lot. The frontier spirit is alive and well here. Texans love and respect horses and have a lot of horse-related events each year. Down here in Houston, which is an extremely large city and a very livable city, we are only 50 miles from the Coast. [In Texas. 50 miles is nothing.}You can own sailboats and anchor them and sail 12 months of the year [oh, and race them, too].
We control our Legislature better than some states, partly by only letting them meet every other year. Keeps the mischief quotient under control. Dallas and Houston are the two largest cities [Houston is the fourth largest city in America]. Dallas is the banking center, with a huge fashion industry, other silk stocking industries and is very sophisticated in its culture. Houston is the oil industry center of the U.S., has great cultural assets and is very friendly to newcomers. In fact, speaking from experience, Texas is in general very friendly to Yankees and those from other areas of the United States.
It’s a huge state [only Alaska is larger in landmass] but Texans travel long distances easily, because of the excellent roads. I used to drive from Houston to San Antonio 200 miles, judge orchids for 4 hours, and drive back home [another 200 miles] all in one day once a month and think nothing of it.
In sum, it’s a wonderful, friendly place to live. I recommend it, gentlemen.
Of course, we do have hurricanes. But Maine has six months of cold cold winter. And San Diego has wildfires regularly. You pays your money and you takes your choice.
Marianne
AW1 Tim, I don’t think some people have an idea about Maine. The summer brochure is beautiful, but they don’t show the “beloved” black fly, a WHOLE bunch of them.
I have family up there in Northern Maine, not at the top. At the top, it was worse. The issue is weather, specifically, snow. My family had more than 200″ or more than 16.66′ of snow. My family is more than 100 miles South of the northern most border of Maine. Did snow play a role in your decision making? I hope you find the right place for you and your family.
Lex,
Been reading your blog for some time now, but I don’t believe I’ve ever posted. I always enjoy your prose and insight.
This is a post I think I can speak to. When I retired in 2005, we made the decision to leave San Diego and return to the Pacific Northwest. With daughters that were 14 and 10 at the time, there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
I won’t comment on all the virtues of San Diego that we left behind, as I am certain you know them well. Leaving was a very difficult decision.
In the long run it turned out to be the best choice we ever made. Despite all the wonderful things that San Diego has to offer, the downside is the cost of living. We are now earning twice what what Uncle Sam ever paid this used up Master Chief, and now own a home we would never have been able to afford down there. More importantly, we now have six, yes, count ‘em, six horses. Again, something we could never have had down there. My girls have gone from city girls to cowgirls, and none of them would ever trade what we have now for the “old life”.
I’m not suggesting that you rush off to Texas. That is a decision that can only be made by you and yours. Just wanted you to know that sometimes the grass really is greener on the other side. And while money isn’t everything, not having to worry about it makes a difference.
Keep up the great blogging.
If your one true concern is the Kat, as it sounds (but the Biscuit can’t be old enough to be going her own way yet?), then I would think that the prospect of her having her very own horse might be a big bargaining chip. Giving up some friends but getting that horse. Of course, it’s easier for us to say than her to believe that new friends would come with the move, too.
I dunno, have you tried sitting down and really talking to her about it? Asking her what she really thinks or planting the seed and seeing what might grow? Just a thought….
I moved my family from northern Virginia to Abilene, TX. They miss the water, clouds, and humidity, a lot. The sun hurts them. I don’t know if it is the lower latitude or the higher altitude, or the lack of water-vapor, but direct sunlight down here makes them feel awful.
There are no end of great places to live within 120 miles of the Metroplex, but west of Eastland is very dry.
I like Texas a lot. Much less trouble with traffic and with rude folks than around DC. People out here have no idea what bad is like, their worst nightmares were weekly events on Lawn Guyland and around DC.
We have horses, boarding is $100 per month for stables with runs. Pasture rent is available. Most rural counties have no zoning on horses per acre. There is a shortage of welding type folks, so construction can be shoddy, caveat. Horse traders can be worse than used car types. I know a guy in Jones county I trust to break horses, nobody else.
Being a MILBRAT myself, I can remember when my father retired from the AF when I was 16. It was terrible. Too close to HS granulation and a real pain. I repaid my father’s thoughtlessness by going in the Navy.
If she’s just 14, she’s got enough time to re-establish herself at the new place,a and if she has her own equestrian facility, she’ll forgive you. A nice tail dragger on your own grass strip is a precious thing as well (a tail dragger endorsement is not hard to obtain and the grass strip will take a lot of the sting out of the landing mistakes you occasionally no matter how good you are). Something like a Champ, or better yet, A cub that will let you drop the door and watch the earth slide by below is an experience that can’t be matched. The ability to burn MoGas (most engines O-320 and smaller have an STC to allow such use) is a very large plus. The EAA has a list on their website if I recall.
Yeah, you’ll miss the beach, and ocean breezes, but there are compensations. The loss of genteel poverty is not one one of the things to take lightly, and would be enjoyed.
The ability to use your skills and pass onto the next generation what you learned over the years is not something to sneeze at either.
Grumpy,
In part, yes, snow is part of the problem. However, where I live we tend to get bucketlaods of freezing rain, and the ice and power outages sometimes make you think you are living in a third-world nation. That, and the way the government here is running the state into the ground.
Black flies: Maine’s little known wonder weapon. In all seriousness, the 74th Regiment of Foot (Argyle Highlanders) was stationed in Castine in 1779 and were the first highland regiment to officially switch to trousers, because of the black fly. Nasty little buggers, both.
What with heating oil currently at $2.79/gallon, it costs a fair amount to fill a 250 gallon tank. When I filled it full in September, it was $3.99 a gallon and cost me over $900.00…. gasp. Still and all, $300.00+ a month for replenishment costs ain’t easy, and that’s NOT counting the elctric bill. Oh well.
The joke here is that Maine has two seasons: Winter & the 4th of July.
Don’t get me wrong, I dearly love this state. It has scenics that are unmatchable anywhere else. The problem is that I am being priced out of here, and driven out by the sheer insanity of a cradle-to-grave nanny state that is constantly looking for ways to “help” the citizenry, all the while treating us like meat-based ATM’s to fund their social engineering experiments.
Ah well. Sorry for the rant.
Respects,
Ditto on the soaring. It is easy to do in its basic form (min age to solo a glider is 14 (!!)) but no upper bound on challenge. More than a few times I’ve gotten a tow to 1000′ AGL and spent the next 7 hours just zorching around the ridges and thermals of central PA. Minimal noise, surrounded by glass that makes a Viper feel claustrophobic, keeping aloft by wits alone.
Plus, half the gliderports use something along the lines of a Piper Supercub to tow the planes aloft. Double down on the pleasure.
According to certain theories of quantum mechanics, everytime you do make a decision a parallel universe is created, with you going off and doing both things at once, again, and again, and again, creating multiple/perhaps infinite parallel universes (I believe there is a good BBC documentary on the subject, and NOVA recently did a biographical piece on Hugh Everett, the quantum physicist who first theorized parallel universes.
I don’t know whether anyone has theorized whether all of the yous ever get to meet up and chat about it down the road, however.
Lex: I don’t know how attached the wife is to your present home, but my Father always told me: “Son, don’t tie your life down to a bunch of boards.” So I guess it would be easy to say “To thine own self be true” and follow your heart, but then as you note and are all too well aware, there are other lives involved as well….My own personal philosophy is that every thing/decision in life is a double-edged sword–everything has its pluses and minuses–but then I really don’t have to tell you that. The question to me seems to be not so much playing Hamlet worrying over whether you are making a right decision or not, rather, make a decision and then “make it right.” After all, who knows what a “right” decision is anyway? Most of the time it is years (other than decisions made in the cockpit where it becomes all too apparent real quick) before it becomes apparent that you’ve married the wrong person, chosen the wrong career, taken the wrong job, made the wrong move, etc. Soooo—– make the decision; then set about making it right!
AW1Tim/
I dunno about Del Rio. I took my pilot tng there at Laughlin and it was the pits for bachelors. And Ciudad Acuna has STILL got to be the worst hell-hole on the planet. Of course that was back in 66-67 and I understand the Amistead
reservoir (which had good fishing even then) has become a magnet for upscale retirement homes if the real estate sections of the Houston papers are any indication. So if one likes to hunt and fish and is married I guess it would be pretty nice after you’ve seen the world and the wanderlust is gone. But for a 22 yr old bachelor in 1966, unh, unh.
Mongo, Yak and MajHarvey,
We put our three little ones’ haul on the bathroom scales today, came in at at combined total of slightly more than 13lbs.
More on Del Rio.
If we weren’t on the Sat flying schedule we used to jump in the car and a convoy of my us bachelors would drive 4 hrs to San Antonio for Fri night and the weekend. On the time honored theory of “building a base” we would “hit the tanker” at the O Club at Randolph for cheap booze before going out on the town. One time as we were “imbibing”/guzzling, some newly commissioned 2lts from OCS (Randolph is ATC HQ) sitting across from us (it was a horse-shoe type bar)
were complaining what a hell-hole SA was–that it was the ends of the earth, etc. Of course if you had just spent 90 days in PT in 120 degree Texas sun I’m sure many impressions would be less than pleasant–and to top it off they all were from the NYC/NJ/ Philly area, so you can imagine what they thought of ANYWHERE in Texas. Still, after listening to them whine for a while, one of our guys spoke up and said: “You guys think you had it rough? You outta come down to where we are in Del Rio–we drove four hours just TO GET
HERE!”
were
Virgil,
What I liked about Fort Clark Springs (where I was) was that we were about 40 miles east of Del Rio, but still not too far from San Antonio.
We could live the (VERY) rural lifestyle, with adobe and mesquite and endless sky, but could get into the big city east of us fairly quickly.
‘course, I’m not saying that’s where we’ll end up, but it’s a possibility.
In the 19th century, my folks had farms south of San Antonio, in Bexar County. Nowadays, that’d be downtown San Antonio. Sigh… if they had only stayed, eh?
Do it, Lex!!
I left SD 9 years ago for podunk and thanked G** I ever since.
Here, the choppers don’t flood your backyard looking for Somedood, no taggers on the walls, we can’t go to the store without an hour of “Hi, How ya do’in”.
Everyone you know belongs to the same gun club or golf club, or both.
Go for the bucks and sanity!
Went to bed early, I woke up and and was having a fist fight with the pillow. The kicker is the pillow was winning. I refuse to insult your intelligence. To put it bluntly, I just don’t have the answer. This “economy with strong fundamentals”, please pardon the sarcasm, appears to make things like this, even harder.
Thank you, for the historical insight into the weaponization of the “beloved black fly”.
Good luck,
Grumpy
Lex getting Wanderlust already..get back to that .xls and .ppt…I can see you living there though- like JR on Southfork. LOL.
AW1 Tim,
They need P-3 folks in Waco, Greenville and DFW areas- check it out L3Comm..others, too like LM
$2.79? Where? Mine’s 55o gallons!
Zane- is that short for Zano-o-phobic?
b2
Lex – I believe Michelle has the right advice in that you should have a heart to heart with the Kat – she might surprise you.
The TX job sounds a lot better than doing network SE for E2′s – for a fighter guy, especially. Don’t let SD tie you down.
Good Luck!
AF OCS was at Miami Beach, and Moved to Lackland. OCS was closed and reorganized as OTS (Officer Training School) at Lackland (old Medina AFB, then Lackland Annex when I lived there, now, apparently, Medina Annex), and later moved to Maxwell. What used to be OTS is now called Basic Officer Training, and OTS also includes the school for direct commission personnel. It was never at Randolph.
LOL., Ouartermaster, you’re right! It WAS Lackland! Just goes to show what memories do to one. And was it called OTS in66? I probably reflexively said OCS as that was how my Father was commissioned in WWII. (I went the ROTC route.) I think I’ve probably said it both ways over the years when I tell that story… And to be truthful, I couldn’t swear on a stack of Bibles whether it was the O club at Randolph or Lackland, come to think of it. (Of course my mental “vision” even then was clouded by those “whisky fronts” that kept moving thru the area…..