I love my Twitter Account. I’ve had a good time reading people’s thoughts about certain events, and the last few weeks have been no exception. If anything, they’ve opened my eyes to some real interesting characters. For example: At the height of the MH 17 coverage, the rumor floated around the “Twitterverse” that because the airplane looked like Putin’s aircraft, the Ukrainians shot it down going after Putin. “Wait, what??” Okay, so you’re telling me that somebody in a field, peering at a radar scope in a piece of equipment that is fairly complicated to operate, could see what paint scheme was on the target at 33,000 feet? Seriously?? For the American’s in the crowd, that is roughly 6.25 miles away in the sky, through clouds, and using a radar screen that does not see color or shape. Now I don’t know about you, but I’m too stupid to buy that one. Then there was the notion that there is no way the “rebels” could have done this, since they are farmers without any training. Okay, again, let’s do the math. The BUK, SA-11 missile system has been around since the 1970s. The Soviets controlled the Ukraine in the 1970s and on up until the USSR fell. The USSR had mandatory conscription, that would have included some of these “farmers,” add to this the fact that Russia has been feeding training, equipment, and trained personnel from various areas around the region, and BINGO, it doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going. Now I realize that this isn’t really lighter material, but face it, when someone shovels this much manure at me, I personally have to laugh. Again, you can’t fool me, I’m too stupid! Maybe next week will be lighter, since I do plan on returning to the world of kids. Face it, despite the world situation, kids are kids, and with them you never know what will be coming next. (Oh wait, that sounds like Congress.....) ~ Michael S. Pauley
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I have held off posting anything about the events of last week, mainly because the entire incident was too fluid to discuss. Of course, I’m talking about the MH 17 shootdown. Daily, we would learn of more details, and daily my perceptions and opinion only hardened. It appears to be exactly what I suspected, almost from first hearing the news, and now I can only marvel at the various responses of the “players.” I will say that at this juncture, my only feelings are of disgust. The event was heinous by any standard, and cannot be justified regardless of your position on the Ukraine. Sadly, within minutes the scrambling began to cover up any trace of real evidence, fortunately, there are enough video and still images, along with radar telemetry, to tell us pretty much what happened. Moreover, this discussion about black boxes is a pointless exercise. There will be very little on a cockpit recording, since that particular weapon system would have destroyed the aircraft within 10 to 11 seconds from firing to detonation. Without a radar/missile warning system, the flight crew simply wouldn’t have a clue it was coming, and most assuredly, nobody in the back would have known what was about to happen. Yes, I’m disgusted and more than a little outraged. Shooting at combatant aircraft is one thing, but an unarmed civilian jetliner at 33,000 feet, flying in an ICAO approved corridor, is another entirely. In my view, this was a war crime, and the players should be dealt with accordingly. ~ Michael S. Pauley
Final Installment of the 1997 Story, along with a short Postscript!
Probably. I know that I can still look down at my daughter, snuggled under her blankie (a/k/a woobie) fast asleep and feel a pang in my heart that can come from nothing else. Love often heals all wounds, and that kid has got a permanent place in my heart. She makes me laugh, cry, angry, happy, frustrated, joyful, and about a half dozen other emotions all at the same time. She is the reason that I can look at Father’s day and not gag on the Hallmark hype and the Disney slant. When she calls me “Poppa” and says that she loves me, then all the past anguish melts and my troubles seem to evaporate. No one can replace that part of her that is me, or the part of me that is her. It is a special relationship that will last me until my final days. It is the memory of a bouncing cat and the many other happy times, and will be the memories of the challenge of facing new kids and the obstacles of the teenage years. It is rewarding, even if it is all consuming. It is not for the weak of heart, and for those who lack adventure don’t bother to apply. As for the Step-dad job? Well, I can now say that Bill Cosby was right, you haven’t really been a parent until you have more than one.................... The transition is well on its way, and in another few years I will either be used to it, or I will be in a sanitarium...............Who knows?????? TODAY: Well, now I DO know. I survived it. Mostly anyway, although many might think that a grown man who writes a science fiction book should probably be institutionalized. The oldest girl now has a baby of her own, and a great husband. She too is mentioned in my Dedication, and without question, she is a huge part of what is now helping me stay sane in my day job. She is also blessed with a son who is just like her, with a dash of his dad, and a pinch of me. God, my daughter is so hosed!! As for the rest, the “7 year old” is in the Army National Guard, while the “5 year old” works with kids and actually is pursuing an acting career. The youngest, that little baby with the bouncy foot and curls? She is in college, and still under foot, but that’s okay. Finally, my bride and I outnumber the number of kids present in the house. For ONCE, we have more hands that kids, which is always a plus. I hope you enjoyed the last several weeks of this little serial tale of parenthood. There are tons more stories and observations, but they will be meaningless to most, and tedious to everyone but us. Still, if you’re interested, then “go forth and multiply!” Just do so at your own risk! ~ Michael S. Pauley Trust me, we’re getting close to the end...
So, what of the teenager while the rest of the family gallivants around the Eastern Seaboard? It just so happens that she surprised us all, and actually turned out to be the best kid on the whole vacation. But it sure didn’t look that way at the start. Shortly after our arrival at our beautiful hacienda next to the Motor Pool, the phone rings with a message from the teenager’s Mom. In a true panic, her Mom exclaims, “I give up! She won’t listen to me! I have no idea what she is up to, and frankly I am afraid to know! You have to do something with her, because she refuses to stay with me!” As my ex-wife speaks, my blood turns ice cold and I am at a complete loss for words. (A rare event, I will assure you.) All I can do is croak back, “What happened?” She then explains that the teenager had lost her mind, was out control and refused to stay anywhere near her. Mom’s explanation is that she is “probably out having a huge party at your house. How dare you leave town!” Reminding her that I had little choice (which deep down she already understood), I told her that I would do my best to find out what was going on. Of course, this isn’t easy when the phone service is sporadic, the post switchboard is closing down, and you are physically four states away. Panic being a great mother of invention, I pulled out the trusty mobile phone, noting the whole time that the long distance and roaming charges would most likely put me in chapter 11, bankruptcy. (Yeah, it was that long ago! Now it is nothing, but in 1997?!) After several attempts I finally reached my daughter at my house. Her voice appears to be fine, she sounds rather non-plussed, and certainly sounds as if she is not as out of control as I was already told. I ask, “What is going on? Your Mother is not real happy with you.” Yeah, your momma is torqued, your step-momma is torqued, and I am very confused.... “Oh, nothing really, I just don’t want to stay with her since she’ll bug me wanting to know why I just want to be alone. Besides you once said that you didn’t mind my staying at the house by myself.” God, why can she remember every offhand remark, recall it out of context, and hit me in the head with it, when she can’t even remember to pick up milk on the way home?? “Well, yeah, but never this long and that was purely by yourself, who else is there now?” Yeah, where is that low life, slack jawed, moron you call a boyfriend!! “Nobody, in fact, I don’t want to be around anybody right now. I am tired, and frankly a week in hiding from some of my so called friends will be good for me.” Huh??? “What about your mother?” Okay I’m really confused now.... “I’ll see her tomorrow and stay with her some this week, but right now, I honestly just want to stay here by myself. You know it is great to not have those kids around! I kind of like this...” At this point, after having been cooped up with them for several days, I can agree with her. How long would it take me to sneak home? “So, are you planning to have a party while I am gone?” Waste of breath, but the direct approach may just work. “No way Dad, there is no way. Most of my friends would trash the house and act like jerks leaving me to clean up.” Great, now she is giving me what I want to hear. This is not good. “Sounds like you need new friends.” Knowing full well she is way too defensive of her friends, I thought this would get a rise out of her. “Yeah, well now maybe you understand why I don’t want to go anywhere.” Huh?? This doesn’t sound right..... Was I proud of her as I hung up the phone? Nope, I was truly terrified. Did I believe what she told me? I wanted to believe, but actually, there was no way I was going to let it go without some verification. What did I do? Call the neighbor, of course! Sure enough, nobody had been near the house except my daughter, and it appeared like there was nothing going on. She noticed the TV was on most of the day and well into the evening. She saw that my daughter had brought home fast food the night before, along with a movie from the local video store, and that she was picking the mail up. That was it! Damn, now this is scary. Even the neighbor is not seeing the party that I still know must be going on. Not feeling much better, I called her mother back, and tried to explain the deal. She still wasn’t completely convinced, and I wasn’t either. As the week progressed I continued to check on the teenager, and each time the report was the same. She did stay some with her mother, but otherwise, she stayed at the house by herself. The neighbor verified it all, and stated that the only person who ever came by the house was one guy carrying a pizza, driving a car with a sign on top, who left within 4 minutes of arrival. Now, why can’t she be that good the rest of the year????? Or was she?? Hey that was probably her boyfriend and it was just a real quick party!! No, I guess not, he wouldn’t know what you called the topping on the pizza.............. (I will confess that my daughter is now married to a guy who DOES know the difference. In fact, huge props to my son- in-law, who is actually depicted as a character in my book. Through his eyes, we describe a lot of what is going on away from the mountain, and in real life, he is every bit as awesome. Thank God he came along!!!) ~ Michael S. Pauley (At least they were in 1997!)
When I wasn’t working, we would take little side trips to various portions of historic Virginia. When I was working, Mom would still take trips with the kids, thus proving that she had more courage than Audie Murphy ever hoped to have in a gazillion years. Mom and the kids especially loved Colonial Williamsburg, and for the most part these things were fun, more or less. Oh, there was the requisite griping about having to walk in the heat, but after I shut up, everyone seemed to have a much better time. Right up to the time the visiting high school kids next door at the motel decided to get drunk and have a pillow fight in the motel hallway. (Yeah, don’t tell me you didn’t do it on a school trip in the ‘olden days.’) A room by the way where we had hoped to get at least one night’s sleep not scrunched up trying to sleep with two adults in a bed designed for one. (You would think this could be fun but, with an audience like we had, it certainly was anything but fun.) You see, the time we picked was apparently the time a school from another state had decided to take a trip to see the historical area. What we didn’t know, until it was too late, was that our little brood was nestled in the middle of a floor full of hormonal teenagers. Teenagers who apparently were going through their mating season. The screams, for once, were not our children. The banging on the door, for once, wasn’t our children. The fights, for once, weren’t our kids. The police coming and the management yelling, for once, didn’t have anything to do with us. The next morning, bleary eyed with little sleep, I explained to the desk clerk that next time I wanted to be kept awake by screaming kids I would just stay home. He didn’t understand, but then he still had pimples, so I took satisfaction in knowing that someday he too would suffer the endless curse...... Now Mom and the kids did get to see lots of neat stuff, while I did my bit for my favorite Uncle. They saw civilian and military ships, air and space museums, regular science museums, airplanes of many different types and descriptions, all of the army stuff around the cottage, the historical areas, the inside of a working military airfield control tower, zoo and farm animals, and a whole lot of the back of my head. They enjoyed it and they enjoyed the nature walks. They loved the endless fast-food, and they just thrived on the steady diet of video games and weird questions. They even enjoyed watching Mom hit me in the back of the head for asking them...... So, what was their favorite part of the trip? Well, judging by the youngest boy’s behavior, it had to be the rest areas. Trust me, this kid never met a bathroom he didn’t like. I figured his personal mileage, and it worked out to about 10 miles to the stop. Not only could we not pass a rest area, but we had to give him extra time to inspect the back of the stall door. I just knew he was going to dehydrate before we got him home..... As for the little girl, well for her it worked out to about 3,000 bounces of her foot per mile. Someday, she will do well in a marathon, since I honestly believe she ran all the way to Virginia and back. The oldest boy? His favorite part was driving me absolutely bananas. He spent the whole trip messing with his siblings, arguing with his mother, picking fights with everyone he met, and just making himself a real joy to be around. The only thing he didn’t do was shut up. At the ripe age of 7, this kid can whine like an expert, and on this trip he put his previous record to shame. If you gave him life on a silver platter, he would still complain that the platter had to be polished. He never missed a beat, and remained quite a pain until we got home. Why? Mom’s theory was that he was just cooped up, my theory was that he knew that we were more likely to catch him trying to kill a sibling. Either way, the next time we travel, he will go in a pet carrier. (Oddly enough, sometimes I still think that a little time in a pet carrier would do him some great services. Even more odd, he joined the Army National Guard, and his grandparents blamed me!) ~ Michael S. Pauley Our 1997 Vacation continued:
You see the funny part about the military is that regardless of what they do to you, there is never any doubt that you must still continue with the mission. This trip was no exception. The housing was perfect, if you are there with another soldier like yourself. A small free standing cottage, it had originally been built during the expansion years of pre-World War II. Designed to house a regimental commander, it was nestled amongst what was supposed to be the regimental headquarters area. With all of the comforts of home, you can almost see the ghosts of some long forgotten war hero who valiantly led his troops into combat in the European Theater. Instead, what you see are roaches the size of a World War II era main battle tank, and no shade anywhere in sight. There is a great full sized and equipped eat-in kitchen. A good sized bathroom with a good shower and a washer and dryer off the kitchen. Sound good? Well, here is the catch. The combination bedroom/living room presents my crowd a small problem. Furnished with two twin beds, two chairs, a desk, and a TV, this is not exactly the room for a family of 5 to live in. Thank God, the teenager didn’t come..... Oh, yeah, you forgot about her, well don’t, we will get back to her exploits in a minute. Fortunately, we did find a hideaway bed, now if we could just find a space to fold it out........... Tired, and more than a little disgusted at the system, we unpack and move in for the week. The kids are thrilled since there are tanks, airplanes, trucks, and soldiers. They explore the immediate area around the cottage, after they receive my briefing on the dangers associated with duds (the shells that don’t explode, not the congressman who occasionally visits....), and seem to have settled in just fine. Mom, on the other hand, looks at the potential sleeping arrangements and then looks at me with total disgust. “I thought we had this worked out!” “Wel,l we did, but you know the Army.” “No, I don’t know the Army, remember I am a replacement!” “Well, even replacements have to learn, and this is your chance. You saw ‘Stripes’, you know,--- ‘Army Training, Sir.’” “Yeah, and that movie is why I would never join, besides I didn’t join....You did. Now then tell me..... When do you retire?” “Not before the end of the week, if that’s what you’re hoping.” “Oh, damn! Well, we’ll make the best of it, after all I guess it isn’t just a job, it’s an adventure.” “Well, yeah it is, but honey?” “Yes” “That is the Navy, here we are just being all we can be...” “Be this you sorry, @#%$(@&$*" You know, a box of pop tarts can put an eye out if you aren’t careful, fortunately I was turning my head in response to something else......... The conversation was just ending, and the pop tarts were in flight, when we hear, “Hey Guys Watch This!!” Whereupon the pop tarts strike a glancing blow as we rush outside just in time to see that it wasn’t the kids. Actually, and thankfully, it was someone else next door in the motor pool getting ready to do something stupid. I looked lovingly at my wife and said, “See, I told you where I learned this instinctive reflex to duck.” My words were wasted, however, since my wife had already hit the dirt and was crawling back into the house........ You know she might just make an army wife yet. ~ Michael S. Pauley The second day dawned brightly, and was for us a last view of the mountains before we headed to my destination in Virginia. This little side trip had been fun, and except for the knock it was almost as perfect as a trip with kids can ever be. Mom and I even had time alone, since we had an adjoining and connecting room with the kids, we were able to actually sneak off with the door closed. Well rested, we were excited about getting to our ultimate destination.
Eating our free breakfast, which is a great deal with my kids since they ate at least the equivalent value of the room bill, we re-loaded the now non-knocking car and headed down the mountain on US 460, to Roanoke Virginia. The only difference in our load plan today was that we had placed the 3 year old and her car seat in the front seat between us. (Okay, don’t judge, there were no airbags in those days that were mandatory or installed on that car.) Our reasons were simple, the day before she couldn’t see as much from the back seat and we wanted to accommodate her, so she could fully enjoy the view. Starting out this appeared to be worth it, but the true value of this placement was to be quite mixed.... About two miles down the mountain the knocking returned. In fact, it returned with a true vengeance. It had never been louder, and I just knew something was falling out from under the car. At least I knew it until I looked over at my wife. She too was looking at me with horror when, at the same time, we noticed movement. A movement that was more than just consistent with the mysterious knock. There, all cute in her car seat, peering around and loving it, was the little 3 year old just bouncing with excitement and kicking her foot against the bottom of her seat. Through four states and several miles, I had finally solved the mystery, but could I cure the problem? No! This knock was to remain with us for the next week. Every time she got in the car, we got the bounce. The only way to maintain sanity was to put her back in the back seat and put a pillow under her foot. Talk about a nervous habit, this one over the next week would drive us all a little crazy! Oh hell, who am I kidding, it drove us all a LOT crazy! Oh, if the trip were to end here it would still be salvageable, but unfortunately it doesn’t. After many hours, and God knows how many stops, we arrive at our destination. An Army post, which shall remain nameless, where things are shutting down and are not as organized as they once were. Naturally, this shutdown affected the housing staff who completely botched our reservation. What was to have been VIP quarters for all of us, became VIP quarters for two, and either it was for a 1950s sitcom couple, or an unmarried two,......, but one thing was sure, it was NOT for a family of five! ~ Michael S. Pauley The next sequence of the story from 1997, describes our first “road trip” as a family. It really happened this way, and after all these years, it is one of my more vivid memories of the “old days.” I plan on spreading it out over a few days, since there is a lot to tell about this one! Enjoy!
Speaking of Army training, I have had a direct affiliation with the Army for over 20 years. As an aviator, I flew many hours of medical evacuation missions and amassed a fairly extensive background in the employment of the military air ambulance. The result of this was that recently I had an opportunity to take my expertise on the road, on behalf of Uncle Sam, and even take the family along (at my own expense). Like a fool, I leaped on this opportunity because I thought it would help bond the family together, and it would give the kids a chance to see where I grew up. So, going home I announced to the crowd that they could go, and that it “will be just like a normal family vacation!” Looking back on it, I now realize just how much those words were the epitome of stupid. This concept turned into the adult variation of “Hey watch this...”, and would haunt me like a bad check. There is much planning involved in moving the horde from point A to point B. Very akin to moving an entire combat infantry brigade, the planning must include every logistical point imaginable, plus a few extra details that aren’t imaginable. Reservations must be made, load plans for two tons of stuff must be made, and the identification of those materials required to sustain the crowd for over a week is an exhaustive study of logistical science. The most difficult of these items to accomplish is without doubt the identification of who can actually go. Teenagers, who are adverse to family vacations anyway, are very quick to tell you that under no circumstances will they be seen with the family. They are equally quick to decide that having you gone during spring break gives them the chance to do things they wouldn’t ordinarily be able to do.... Like sell the house and move away. To preclude such action, Dad is presented with his most unique challenge to date. How to keep an eye on someone who will not be able to come because of a “work” conflict. Do you scrap the whole trip? No, instead you employ the aid of the former spouse and that old nosey neighbor down the street. Nothing against her Mom, but oddly enough, I probably feel more confident about the nosey neighbor. Not because she can be trusted or loves your child, but because she will tell you everything and then some. She sees all, knows all, and has the intelligence network of the CIA at her disposal. When invited to make observations, she is thrilled, cooperative, and more diligent than a sheep dog at watching the flock in a Looney Toons Cartoon. Placing my version of the Mossad on alert, you now must see who else may have conflicts. The 7 year old’s baseball team has a game, but Mom intercedes and this is eliminated from consideration. No one else has recitals, or other listed conflicts so the manifest is set: Mom, Larry, Moe, and little Curly. Shep will stay home and work, while I must lead the rest on an adventure of a lifetime through four states. Little did I know, when it was over I would be able to write a new guide book about the “Southeast’s most popular rest areas.” (We got so far as establishing the criteria for such things. There is outdoor ambience, indoor convenience, and softness of toilet tissue, to name but a few of these more basic criteria.) ~ Michael S. Pauley Today, I am taking a brief break from the story, I promise it will continue next week, but today I would be highly remiss if I were not to remember the events of this date. Aside from the obvious remembrances of the “Longest Day” or the Invasion of Normandy, this also happens to be the birthday of the love of my life! I will remember both, and remind the reader that these birthdays are honestly a coincidence, as opposed to a statement as to our relationship. After all these years, and all the trials and tribulations, she really is my better half! So for her, I will say “Happy Birthday, Gorgeous!” Just like in the Dedication of the book, you really are my muse and inspiration! ~ Michael S. Pauley
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AuthorMichael S. Pauley is a Navy brat and an old soldier who served in all three components of the United States Army. Living in Lexington, South Carolina, Michael is now a practicing attorney and member of the United States Naval Institute and the American Legion, Post 154, Tybee Island, Georgia. Archives
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