Waves

Hello All,

For the past 24 hours, I have held the undeniable urge to write about waves. Not those found in the air or light, but the ones surrounding our coasts.
Many Marine Biologists state the ocean is a living, breathing body. With every living creature playing a role in its eco system, much like the life giving cells of any living thing.



Growing up a surfer, my friends and I have always believed every wave holds and exhibits its own characteristic, making it unique in its own existence.
A person can live on the same beach for most of their life and not see the same wave twice. How can this be?
The rise and fall of the ocean floor is the forming factor for each wave; and, as each wave breaks, the sandy surface of the floor will shift, thereby, changing the angles of the floor ever so slightly to create a newly formed surface for the next wave. It is with this information in mind; we believe each wave has only one, short life.
A surfer may not be the best, or worst, as they attempt to ride the next set of waves.



However, considering the life expectancy of this one wave, a surfer must honor and respect that which only exists for a short time. In doing this, the rider must give this ride his/her best effort, for this ride will never happen again. Even the waves respect one another; in that, they will follow each other to the shore. When two or more collide, they generate a force that will be viewed in awe for the magnificence they create.




How does this apply to us?

There are many aspects in our lives, which resemble the waves. Some of us take our careers, or families, for granted; yet, each is just like the wave. As we drive to work, do we think of the day’s goals and not as this day only existing this one time? How would one person react, if they were to begin thinking in the terms of the wave? Would a person not change their interaction with their loved ones?
Their Friends?
Themselves?
Their co-workers or a stranger on the street?
Moreover, what about those waves that collide, could we not view this as those people whose personalities clash? I have had times, when I would “test the waters of a storm”, only to find I do not belong on this beach. My communication is like the paddling of a surf board, as I try to place myself into that position to best ride the wave. It is at times like those, that I have found the best solution is to return to the beaches I know and wait for another set- for I am not a storm rider.

The distinction and significance of every moment is ours, for this ride is short and will never happen again;
Finally, the best part arrives at the end of the day, as it will be the time to celebrate the next set of waves.

Reach

Part 2, family camping

I have found a larger number of people reading my site. Some of you may not be familiar with the high desert, it is for this reason I would like to "paint" a picture for you. In the dry seasons, moisture from the Pacific Ocean is released from the air prior to the higher elevations of the mountains and the remaining dry air, climatic to the high desert, creating the dry desert conditions fall upon the high desert floor. The terrain is mostly rocky and mountainous and there is very little flat land, unlike what we would find in the lower deserts. Valleys collect more water than hills and mountains; therefore, in the rainy seasons the water run off is fast and creates sandy river beds among the rock formations. These conditions are perfect for the outdoor, back to nature, families for hiking, camping, and even off-roading.


The story continues,


As we arrived back to camp, it was extremely evident our camp was the epicenter of a painstaking operation. The children, myself included, decided the best observation point would be from a peak, approximately 2,000 feet above camp level and away our hike began.

From our mountain perch, we could see a number of rescue vehicles move down on our camp and their stay was longer than expected. With excitement, we, too, descended on our camp in the hopes of clarification of the day's events.
I arrived to our camp with the most unexpected greetings from my family and friends. It appears that every person in our camp had taken delight to their notification that the Sherriff's Department had some questions for me. My family, like most, loves to joke and intentionally place another member's emotional status in question. Then conclude the moment with laughter and the typical,

We're only joking.

Until my father approached me with the demand,

Go get your helmet on,

he said,

We need to depart immediately, on MY motorcycle!

I gave a little laugh and said,

OK, just a minute,

with that he gave a sharp response,

I said GO!

Ut-Oh

, now I am in big trouble.
If you have ever seen that "light-bulb", appearing above someone's head as they begin to get a clue, you would understand mine was shinning bright. This was never more evident when my father exclaimed that he would be driving, as opposed to our customary,

You go ahead and drive, 'Reach'.

Maybe I should have said something, earlier

, I thought to myself as I had a very good idea of the upcoming events.
We arrived to the predetermined "interview" area as the rescue teams were all shutting down their vehicles, and even the helicopter would be joining us. I remember thinking,

I wonder if I could get a ride on that helicopter- that would be cool,

as we pulled up to park. Now mentally picture the following: a single table, encircled by numerous rescue vehicles, countless law enforcement agents, and a helicopter with no occupants and the main rotor blade still in motion, and everybody is watching you. This is the time when a person's nerves turn cold.
During our little "Pow-Wow", everything became quite clear to all parties involved. I did play a role in this little adventure- as if you were thinking that I did not. In addition, I did learn some valuable information, and I was not the only one, during this little adventure. If you were watching this on Television, you would require a split screen view; because, each event was unfolding simultaneously with the other.
I was putting on my helmet to ride my father's bike, as an elderly gentleman was walking his dog up the path I was about to explore. As the motorcycle engine was warming, the gentleman and his dog became out of sight. It appears, the gentleman had exited the trail onto the first dried river wash, whereas, I did not and remained on track back into the hills. The other people of this gentleman's camp did not hear or see him return for a nap, when I started calling for help. A third campsite heard my calling and decided to see, from which camp, was a needing member. In their investigation, they approached our camp as we were on our day ride. As they approached camp site of the elderly gentleman, the "investigators" were informed of his dog walking journey. Ah- Haa! Now, we know who played what role. The elderly gentleman awoke from his nap and reported to the rescue agents, that he was unaware of any miss-doing or of any person requiring help. Now, I understood the request for extra vehicles into that area. This all happened, in the day, when the Sherriff's Department was more happy to see me OK, than to charge my family with enormous costs from such a mistake. I have not called for help, since; however, should I ever need to call, I do know that there will be somebody listening.
Moral of the story: Even though those officers did not give this child a helicopter ride that day, each one of those gentlemen remained one of my heroes.

Reach

Part 1, family camping

Hello All,

One summer, while camping with my family and friends in the desert, I rode my father’s motorcycle off by myself. The bike was most certainly larger than what I should have been riding, but I liked its power. When I sat in the seat, my feet would reach the foot pegs, and not any further toward the ground. I could not stop and hold the motorcycle upright, because I could not reach the ground. My father did not mind my riding his bike; in fact, he got a kick out of it. He would start the motorcycle and hold it up while I mounted its seat. I had not problems working the controls, or even balancing the bike as I rode. Now, you have the mental image.
I rode my father’s bike up the trail which began at our camp site. It was proving to be a very nice ride through the foothills of the high desert. I estimated a quarter of a mile from camp and around three hills back in the desert, when it was time to consider a return. However, I could not find an area large enough for my “U” turn.
As I rounded a corner over the third or fourth hill, I could see an old river bed, a wash, in the distance. “This is it”, I thought, as I prepared and executed the left turn. Problem, I did not expect the deep sand, I was about to encounter, and I knew that I could not set my feet to the ground. This left me with only one choice, to commit myself to going straight with acceleration. I am now going down a wash, not a trail, in deep sand and in deep 5hit. I was fortunate with previous deep sand experience, but not on my dad’s bike! I knew the width of the wash would be decreasing, I just did not know when or where. So, I found a rock, off to the side of the wash, and aimed for it. I knew, if I could stop close to the side of the rock, I could place my foot on it for support and it worked!
There I was supporting the motorcycle on my much required rock and triangulating a plan of a 180 degree turn in my mind. “Ok, this sounds good”, I said to myself and I began to set all plans into motion. Just then, the motor shut off. “Oh no”, I exclaimed. I do not have enough weight to kick start my father’s bike, it is leaning on a rock, I’m upset and just want to go back to camp. I was 12 at the time.

Through my many attempts to start this engine, I did manage to flood out the carburetor with excess fuel. “Now what will I do”, I thought. “I need Dad”, as many pre-teenagers would resolve. I can not leave the bike here by walking back to camp, and Dad told me not to exit the trail. I need them to come to me, so I called. I shouted from the top of my little ridge in the hopes that somebody in our camp would here me. I yelled, from the top of my lungs down to my toes, “Help”. Ok, I know now, that was a mistake; but it was a lesson well learned.
After tiring of the yelling, I gave the bike more tries and it worked. It started and I executed my turn and made it all the way back to camp without any one person knowing there had been a problem- so I thought.
They were happy I had returned, for I did not know we, our whole camp, was about to go out for a day ride. Everybody went and had a wonderful time and I never spoke of my embarrassing moment.
Upon the return to camp, we could see Rescue vehicles everywhere. There was even a helicopter in the picture! Somebody heard me, all right! In addition, this person was not of our camp. I was reported missing to the San Diego Sherriff’s Department and they decided the need for a full scale search to find this person in need. They decided that time was crucial and they needed to respond. And, it was I, they needed to find without haste.

Part two, later

Reach

What the Chi at?

Hello All,

While I visit the beaches during the ‘Blog City surf’ report, I found on a blogging friend’s site that I have been tagged! Henry's ability to Word Smith continues to render me speechless. The following shall be my honest input to a system, ‘Reach’ing the corners of the blog-o-sphere.

I am one who, through an evolution, with an ability of The Spin Doctor, takes the clouds from my friends’ lives; then, place under their heads for comfort and happiness- before my own.

I want to learn about myself and know my true being.

I wish my physical being would parallel my spiritual, during these stages of growth.

I hate people who dislike others, for the mere impression of association. Why can they not know and judge the person, for who they are, and respect the opinion of those diversities?

I miss perfect health.

I fear ignorance and the inability to relate.

I hear when I listen; I wish to be a participant of awareness.

I wonder at nature.

I regret a history of not being involved.

I am alive!

I dance to my own beat; and, I don’t care.

I sing only when alone.

I cry not, since the passing of a loved one over 15 years ago.

I am not always kind to rude people.

I make with my hands, music.

I write not of the demons within.

I confuse receive and recieve.

I need time to heal.

I should be finishing this.

I start living every second of every day.

I finish with the happiness of others. For this is my burden to carry, a price to pay, for the life of the past.

I am tagging: Those with the desire to share.

If I were a,

From the fantasy pages of: “If I were a Reporter, in today’s standards of searching for distribution, my insignificant news would be”. In a true Dan Brown illusionary disclaimer, none of the succeeding is true.

With a distasteful dual, in the deliciously pleasing new club called The Plumm, Manhattan, a dueling designer and a “Man’s-man” took to a, no-holds bared, bar fight with every tattoo revealed. Well, maybe not; however, research revealed a one-two skirmish between Tommy Hilfiger and Axl Rose.
Thursday, the rocker and designer highlighted not only their hair, but the evening with a midnight pugil demonstration. The fracas allegedly began after the Guns N' Roses front man repositioned the drink of Hilfiger's girlfriend, D. Ocleppo. "I moved his girlfriend's drink so it wouldn't spill," Rose told the Los Angeles radio station KROQ on Friday. "It was the most surreal thing, I think, that's ever happened to me in my life." Living the life of a “Rock Star”, as Mr. Rose, this reporter could not imagine a “Bitch-Slap” to be incongruously juxtaposition pursuant a beverage movement. Yet, we are speaking of the hard hitting, notoriously reclusive heavy metal singer, voted as the “Coolest Person” in a TEEN magazine poll- right after ‘Grandparents’, October 26 2005.



"He just kept smacking me," Rose said. According to the 44-year-old singer, Hilfiger, 55, smacked him in the arm. “I totally agree”, said ‘Vinnie’ Morte Alla Francia Italia Anelia, “who wears white after Labor Day?” Attempts to reach Brenda, the waitress serving the table in the rear of the lounge were not immediately successful. By appearance, Rose grasped the martini glass by other than the stem- not proper etiquette in the Chilton’s guide for mechanics in a tea aisatsu environment. The refreshment immediately changed to a temperature unsuitable for consumption, and, thereby offending the renowned designer.
Rose decided an impromptu performance was in order, and dedicated the song "You're Crazy" to "my good friend Tommy Hilfiger."
The latest reports indicate Hilfiger’s palm is still reddened, Axl’s arm remains tattoo ridden, the martini glass has been encapsulated during Rose’s Encaenia, and no fingers were pricked by Rose’s thorn.

In a late press release, Bob, the neighborhood drunk stated, “No comment”.

Reach

Ps. who used a dictionary?

HUH!

Hello All,

As my busy weekend begins, I have duty this weekend, my mind is searching for a topic of interest. My mind is concluding to that vast void of a thing I like to call "Huh".








I have always enjoyed those weekends of "liquidity", where I can live within the flow. Or, the Zen version would apply in the words of most "Arm-Chair Quarterbacks", "Beer"! However, this will not apply this weekend.



Well this was short, and not very thought out; yet, all the while present.

Have a good weekend, All-

Reach

Fortune Cookies

Hello All,
Every time that I venture into a Chinese Restaurant, I look forward to the fortune cookie portion of the meal. No Take Out can match that climatic moment of reading the fortune allowed in the presence of strangers. Additionally, as my friends all swear to be true, “One must add the phrase “in bed” to the end of the fortune contained within the cookie.” As a child, I would envision a Chinese wizard (of sorts), to control the destination of the cookie and ensuring the cookie’s arrival into my hands. As an adult, I will take the fortune and attempt to imagine how the cookie would weave into this vision of the immediate future. Now, I would like to take my past, then my future, and play it into the vision of a fortune cookie.




“Only the ones we do not know can see the mobility of forward thinking”.

I have met many wonderful and supportive people, as I open this door of self expression in the form of blogging. People who are not about criticism; but the growth within me and directions I am heading. For this, I am fortunate.




“You will meet a stranger, and with a glance, know there is much more to be learned”.

From time to time, we shall meet a new person, and share a realization of purpose for your meeting. Somehow, you just know, in your heart of hearts, from the depth of your being, your growth directly depends on the person you are just meeting. I have met, just one of these people. She was here on a temporary basis. She is now left for home, and yet, we will remain in contact through this digital communication called the internet. For this, I am fortunate. OK, this one does not apply to the “in bed” rule. She may read this one day.




“Only the quiet will learn humility”.

My passenger, on the journey to Las Vegas, consistently enjoyed conversation; however, this person appeared to have doubt of being understood. It must be for this reason; many discussions were repeated, and then repeated again. I listened, each time, in hopes of hearing a new angle or thought and maybe they would fill their need of the direction of this dialogue. For this, I am fortunate. I have a new and closer friend.




“A true friend is the one who will look through our darkest days”.

As we arrived to my friend’s house in Vegas, I did see my motorcycle. With excitement, I leaped from my truck to have a closer look. As I drew to the half distance mark, I could see changes; but not the changes I was hoping to witness. The bike is in worse condition than when I left it with them. Every light was broken or hanging off of the frame. The intake manifolds to the carburetors’ were improperly installed. I made mention of how my expectations were great; nonetheless, there was nothing to be done of the current condition. I took it in stride and knew the only way to see my desires were to make them my achievements. My friends had other matters that required their vast attention.

Pictures to come…
Be Safe
Reach

Hello All,

That Little Ol' Band From Texas, ZZ Top, with Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill, and Frank Beard said it the best when they said, "Viva Las Vegas"!

With 8 hours before departure, we are preparing our way out the 15. Complimentary Suite, check in at 0200 Saturday Morning, I do not plan to rest this weekend. While this may appear to be a fun trip on the strip, I am only going to bring home my bike. My dear friend is over-seeing all the modifications and the bike is no longer stock. Rated as the fastest production model, in it's day, she can kick a$$, now. The mechanic drove it on the test ride and swore to never, no not EVER, mount it again- as his creation/my Fran- ken- shteen is alive. He said, "Nope, that's just too fast for me".

Now I know, and you know, this all sounds like a weekend of work. But, really, who does not relax in Las Vegas?

On the way home, we shall be stopping by my parent's house for Mother's day. It's on the way- well sort of. Mother's Day, on the Lake should be nice.

Happy Mother's Day, to one and all.

Reach

Respect

Hello All,
Today, I have received an email that I wish to forward to you, my readers. You may have previously seen this story; however, if you have not, I think you will appreciate the theme. I will include the photos that accompanied the email, as well as the words and I will list This Link for your referencing.
The following is the email:
TO: Reach
FW: Civilians would not understand how much we Love our country.......and them!!
CAMP PENDLETON, Calif.
(March 2, 2006)
Karla Comfort received a lot of looks and even some salutes from people when she drove from Benton, Ark., to Camp Pendleton, Calif., in her newly-painted, custom Hummer H 3 March 2. The vehicle is adorned with the likeness of her son, 20-year-old Lance Cpl. John M. Holmason, and nine other Marines with F Company, 2nd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division who where all killed by the same improvised explosive device blast in Fallujah, Iraq, in December.



For Karla Comfort, having the vehicle air brushed with the image of the 10 Marines was a way to pay homage to her hero and his fellow comrades who fell on Iraq's urban battlefield. "I wanted to let people know (Marines) are doing their jobs honorably, and some of them die," said the 39-year-old from Portland, OR "I don't want people to forget the sacrifices that my son and the other Marines made."



Leading up to her son's death, Karla Comfort had received several letters from him prior to his return. He had been deployed for five months, and Comfort "worried everyday he was gone until she got the letters and found out the date he was coming home," she said. Marines knocked on the front door of her home in Farmington, Mich., at 3 am with the dreadful news. "I let my guard down when I found out he was coming home," she said.



"There are times that I still cannot believe it happened. It's very hard to deal with." Karla Comfort came up with the idea for the rolling memorial when she and her two other sons attended John's funeral in Portland, Ore. "I saw a Vietnam (War) memorial on a car, and I said to my son Josh, 'we should do something like that for John,' she recalled. "He loved Hummers."



She purchased the vehicle in January and immediately took it to Airbrush Guy & Co. in Benton, Ark., where artist Robert Powell went to work on changing the plain, black vehicle into a decorative, mobile, art piece. "I only had the vehicle for two days before we took it in," she joked. Two hundred and fifty man-hours later, Powell had completed the vehicle. The custom job would have cost $25,000.



Out of respect for Karla Comfort's loss and the sacrifices the Marines made, Airbrush Guy & Co. did it free. Comfort only had to purchase the paint, which cost $3,000. "I love it," she said. "I'm really impressed with it, and I think John would be happy with the vehicle. He would have a big smile on his face because he loved Hummers." Karla Comfort gave Powell basic instructions on what to include in the paint job. In addition to the image of her son in Dress Blues and the faces of the nine other Marines, there were several surprises. "He put a lot more on than I expected," she said. "I think my favorite part is the heaven scene." On the left side of the vehicle, details of the Marines are depicted carrying their fallen comrades through the clouds to their final resting place. The American flag drapes across the hood, the words, "Simper Fi" crowns the front windshield and the spare tire cover carries the same Eagle Globe and Anchor design that her son had tattooed on his back.



"All the support I have been getting is wonderful," she said. Karla Comfort decided to move back to her hometown of Portland, and making the cross-country trip from Arkansas was a way for her to share her son's story. It's also her way of coping with the loss. "Along the way I got nothing but positive feedback from people," she said. "What got to me was when people would salute the guys (Marines). It's hard to look at his picture. I still cry and try to get used to the idea, but it's hard to grasp the idea that he's really gone."


HAND SALUTE!

Reach

Not what I inteded........

Hello All,
Today we shall see another part of me-
Why does “Tough Love” hurt me so much? For the first time, my attitude was forceful and tough with my son. Even though, I wish him to gain any and everything he ever desires; I must learn “NOT” to enable his currently misguided path to destruction.

He is still a Teen, at nineteen, and learning all of the joys life can bring. With thanks to his loving and enabling father: He pays no bills; He lives alone in a beautiful home, overlooking the valleys to the beaches; He can view out the back door for his surf report; He drives a nice Acura; He is well spoken and mannered in general company. He works two jobs, and who knows where his money is spent? I have offered to him free tuition for college. We compromised and he promised an attendance to the local JC, and then later reneged without notice.
He wanted to fly in the Air Force; therefore, he made the appointments and taken the tests. I can not explain the happiness I felt, when he made a decision to progress his life- as only a parent can. His hopes and dreams were high, and so was his smile. The kid lives like a king and I am taking that away from him.
His test scores were not as high as his desires. He can still join, but now the desire has transformed and he must work toward a goal. With that, we have received his resignation in the words, “Well, I am not going to join, if they do not give me what I want.” Today, I “put my foot down”. The “Cash-Cow” is out of milk. With a pain in my heart, and a dehydrated tit, I am curious to his next move.

Reaching the pain

The Hunted Fox

Hello All,

Just remember-

WHEN YOU ARE IN DEEP SHIT;

AND YOU FEEL AS THOUGH ALL EYES ARE ON YOU;

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT;

KEEP YOUR LIPS TIGHT;

DO NOT SAY ONE WORD;


and the day may turn your way!





Reach

Reach Flight, please change course- ATC

Hello All,

Time to go in a different direction, yes the flight plan has changed. I try to entertain and speak my mind. I do not try to go into a direction that may offend. However, this post just might go into that arena. For this, I apologize to anyone person these words may adversely affect.

I am going to speak of the rallies.

Foundation: Though my travels have taken me around the world, I have always returned to Southern California to call home. I am not racist, by any means of the term. I have attended school and befriended many people from our proud neighboring country to the South. Of these friends: I have ventured to their home land and lived among their families; I have attended many celebrations of their achieving United States Citizenship; I have “partied” with their family members, who have not received their citizenship. These are my friends! I care about these people and their feelings. They have taken a long and hard journey into their achievement.

The protests included many people who were not US citizens, calling for our government to change their/our policy. These people were business owners, workers, and just people who want a better life. What do they expect? Should we just give them a citizenship? I think they need to earn it. They need to take the classes, test, and Oath in order to gain their citizenship.
During the march, and I was paying attention; I did not see violence, I did not see hatred. I witnessed many people, who I would love for them to be a part of our country, Nation. I would just appreciate the fact that they would do this LEGALLY.

I hope I remained on track and spoke my thoughts well. I am surprised that I am not seeing other blogs, from other people, on this very subject. All of the previous said, I am very proud to see people standing in unison for their beliefs. What are your thoughts?


Reach

I am not going into the Pledge of Allegiance or the National Anthem in Spanish.
Additionally, I am not going into the waving of the Flag of Mexico during a United States march/protest. I am not going into the local news reporting in all Spanish, when the official language of the United States is English.
However, I did observe these.

Meeting your Childhood Idol

Hello All,
The morning began bright and sunny, here in Southern California, late 1980’s. I was early in my aviation career and still learning (not that I have stopped) about the planes, pilots, and flight, scheduled to work that afternoon in the hangar. I got the call around noon that I would have a guest when I arrived to the hangar. This guest wanted a guided tour and I was the designated “tour guide” by default. You see, I loved these airplanes so much; I studied every aspect and characteristic imaginable. The consensus was- nobody knew the collection like me, “Reach”, so the other guys would call upon me when somebody of importance requested a tour. I only loved the airplanes.
I worked for a very wealthy, private aviation collector. As he witnessed my love of his assemblage, he requested that I assist the restorations of his WWII “toys” I think for my sake. The “true” mechanics always appreciated my help, as I was willing to do anything- for the aircraft, they asked.

As I entered the office, early for work, the General Manager came down happy. He introduced me to our guest, a very tall, distinguished gentleman who gave and received much respect. Our guest turned to face me as the GM said his name and my heart and soul dropped, as my legs were no longer able to support my body. “Mr. Eastwood,” said our GM, “I would like you to meet your tour guide”. I thought- “Mr. Eastwood?” as in “Mr. Clint….Eastwood?” This gentleman turned toward me and No-Shit, it is he!


Since a child, not even “The Duke”, my father’s idol, could match Clint Eastwood! I have seen every movie he has ever taken part. Clint Eastwood was my idol and I admired everything this man has done, and here he is standing in front of me. As his hand stretched out, he said, “Very nice to meet you, ‘Reach’”. Shit, he just called me by my first name! Way Cool!
After I recovered my nervously quivering voice, the tour went well and I was able to answer all of his questions. Ha-ha, now it is my turn. “Sir, may I ask what you are doing here”, I asked. He responded with, “flying lessons”.



Time passed and his flight lessons were going well, he came to know me by my first name. I would enter work and there he was waiting on one thing, or another, and he would say, “Hello ‘Reach’”. This was a wild time for me, as he is a very private person.

Years passed and I am still working for the same company and a jet lands with some spokes-persons for a famous Golf-Club manufacturer. As famous people began disembarking the aircraft, I was not expecting the names and faces standing around me. On this afternoon I met, Sugar-Ray Leonard, Chevy Chase, Kenny-G (well he was there), Kenny Loggins, and Randy Quaid out on the ramp. From behind me, I heard a very recognizable voice, saying, “Have you met ‘Reach’”, as he greeted our guests. Mr. Eastwood was inside awaiting their arrival, and recommending these gentlemen tour our hangar- and that, I should lead the way before their limo arrived. Holly-shit, not only was I the guide of choice, but they remembered me by name.
I could not be a famous personality; being recognized in different surroundings tends to blow me away. I am but one face in thousands and I like it this way. However, this was the closest I will ever come to any form of fame, and I loved that day.

Reach

The partial List

Our hangar housed, remember- I loved the aircraft, the following airplanes I can remember:
Count: Aircraft:

1) Boeing Pt-13 “Stearman”
1) Taylorcraft L-2 “Grasshopper”
1) L-20 “Beaver”
2) SNJ-4 “Texan”
1) T-28 “Trojan”
1) T-33 “Shooting Star”
1) PBY “Catalina”
1) J2F-6 “Duck”
1) HU-16 “Albatross”
1) A-36 “Apache” (last one flying)
1) P-51 “Mustang” (name withheld)
1) P-40 “Warhawk”
3) F-3F “Flying Barrels”
1) F-4F “Wildcat”
1) F-6F “Hellcat”
1) F-8F “Bearcat”
1) F-4U “Corsair”
1) AD-4 “Skyraider”
1) TBM “Avenger” (occasional)
1) MiG 15
1) F-86 “Sabre”
1) Northrop F-5 “Tiger”
2) Falland Fo. 141 Gnats

1) Christian Eagle
1) Cap 10
2) Bell 206 Jet Rangers

For these experiences; Sir, I thank you

Reach

The third day following the long weekend and I am still tired.
I just need to relax under a sunset or an eclipse.





The attached photo is real, while working on the North Pole a friend decided to record this event and digitally sent to me by another friend. I thought I would keep today as simple as possible and still add something amazing.

Reach

A's Big Day

Hello All,

Well, the weekend was long and had taken much preparation, but it has concluded with many successes. Just a reminder, this last weekend was the annual Air Show, which comes around biannually, and I was quite busy working. Go figure- with money cut backs and low manning, we did have a very nice turn out. The Thunderbirds performed outstandingly, as usual. I am very tired and plan on a short day, today.

As some of my more frequent readers, you are aware of my friendship with the Canadian Forces, Skyhawks team. Additionally, you are aware of the organized instructional surfing day, the weekend prior. I do not remember, or think, that I published a post of the achievements on that day. Each person, attending to learn how to surf, successfully rode waves and stood up on the boards. They loved our beaches and peoples, as the “Lad’s” (as they say it) met many native Californians with warm conversation and smiles. One of our local surfers, my good friend’s son, “A”, at the age of eight, impressed the Lad’s with his abilities in the water. He even helped the Lad’s with some excellent recommendations for their continued success on the surf boards.

The Lad’s, enjoyed “A”s company so much; they included him into their Sunday show. As the Ground Captain worked the flight line, prior to the jump, he invited “A” to become part of the team and “A” departed the crowd over the fencing and worked with them. After each member landed his part of the show, “he” approached “A” and gave the standard “High-five”. For an eight year old boy, just learning the world and life, this was the “Best Day of his Life”, as reported by his mother. After the show ended, the entire team had a celebratory diner, and asked if “A”, and us, would join them. We went to a local brewery and had the pleasure of great conversation. The Team even reserved a “special” place at the table for “A”.

I found my joy, in watching the interactions of the team and my good friend’s son; the smile on his face and the gleam in his eyes, “A” will not soon forget this day.

Off to relax, have a good night- all.

Reach