Jerry, Diane plans to bake some Apple Pie Bars this morning. I perform the peeling of the apples. And a Taste Test when the Apple Pie Bars cool. Diane has not confided the Dinner Menu but I’ve noticed hamburger patties and rolls in fridge so that’s a hint. Diane loves pasta salad on days like this, too. We also have ice cream to accompany the Apple Pie Bars if desired. How about you?
George. I started the holiday with a big bowl of corn flakes, then had some fish sticks and potato salad for lunch. I’m not sure what I’ll have for dinner. Living the wild life!
Jerry, Diane and I have been guests at Deb’s House and loved the wonderful food she provided for us!
Deb
Happy Memorial Day to all! We had a cookout on Saturday, (followed by a community theater production of “Kinky Boots”). Pulled pork (smoked for 12 hours on the Big Green Egg—absolutely falling apart tender), pork ribs, potato salad (America’s Test Kitchen recipe—the best!), spicy slaw, guacamole, and fruit salad. Yesterday and today we’re eating leftovers.
Surprisingly? few of my relatives (I’m aware of) have died in battle…an uncle from my Mason grandfather’s first family was a professional clown who was drafted into Korea and killed in action. Surely there’s no narrative possible to construct out of that. My maternal grandfather was (apparently) murdered in a coal mine during WW2, having served in WW1 as a corporal. My father came close to death while in the USAF, as the airmen only a few feet away from him at the airbase in Hawaii were killed when a missile rack on a a fighter jet’s wing fell off and crushed them; earlier, when he was stationed in Europe (he certainly got around as a enlisted “bus-driver”), he could’ve been cannon-fodder when, in 1956, he was among the US troops brought to the Austria/Hungary border when there was some thought of intervening in the Soviet invasion of Hungary. Somehow, all that didn’t ever lead me to consider a military career of my own. It’s a sober sort of reflection, of course.
Todd, thanks for sharing those memories! I considered a military career in 1967 when I joined ROTC. I was on the Rifle Team and working on an assignment with tanks. But my path changed. My father served on a destroyer in the Pacific during World War II. His ship, the USS Kidd, was hit by a kamikaze plane and my father was injured. Later, he was awarded a Purple Heart. My father went to college on the GI Bill and met my mother. After they married, my father told my mother: “I never want to be on a ship again.”
Indeed, my father found his way out of relative poverty through the USAF, albeit he had a fascination with electronics that had led him, with a high-school friend, to set up a small tv repair business before graduation and enlistment in 1955. And then on to a career, post Air Force, with the FAA (after a summer of house-painting while interviewing, another job that he didn’t recommend…I repainted the family house the summer after finishing my BA and that convinced me he was Too Right, though I’ve had worse jobs before and since, if none that so challenged my discomfort with open heights. Spent the time listening to the Pacifica Radio coverage of Oliver North’s trial for most of the day, as we lived in the VA burbs of DC at the time, and DC has one of the core Pacifica stations. Happily neither I nor the radio fell at any point; the cicadas, out that year, sure did enjoy lighting on me, as I recall…not a problem unless they walked from clothing to bare skin, as they are rough-bodied bugs. Perhaps they wanted to Catch Up on human events, as well.
And, you know, I was thinking JROTC when I read ROTC above…what drove the dropping out, if it isn’t too prying a question? I had some friends in JROTC in my second high school, but also some of the most obnoxious louts were also involved, which helped reaffirm my desire to steer clear of any life-or-death placement of my fate in the likes of their hands.
Todd, Nixon’s Draft Lottery gave me Number 335 so I dropped out of ROTC the next day.
Jerry+House
Todd, I, too, was in ROTC ever so briefly in college. Those above me in my squad were, to a man, smug, egotistical play-actors and I had better things to do than wqste my time with them.
Good reason, George. And, Jerry, particularly around the turn of the ’60s, I gather, I can only believe every letter of that characterization…considering the boneheads I encountered in the earliest ’80s in the junior version.
Wishing you and Diane a wonderful and meaningful day. Anything yummy on the menu?
Jerry, Diane plans to bake some Apple Pie Bars this morning. I perform the peeling of the apples. And a Taste Test when the Apple Pie Bars cool. Diane has not confided the Dinner Menu but I’ve noticed hamburger patties and rolls in fridge so that’s a hint. Diane loves pasta salad on days like this, too. We also have ice cream to accompany the Apple Pie Bars if desired. How about you?
George. I started the holiday with a big bowl of corn flakes, then had some fish sticks and potato salad for lunch. I’m not sure what I’ll have for dinner. Living the wild life!
Jerry, sounds yummy to me! I don’t need Fancy Food to enjoy eating.
As always, I wan to live at Deb’s house during mealtines.
Jerry, Diane and I have been guests at Deb’s House and loved the wonderful food she provided for us!
Happy Memorial Day to all! We had a cookout on Saturday, (followed by a community theater production of “Kinky Boots”). Pulled pork (smoked for 12 hours on the Big Green Egg—absolutely falling apart tender), pork ribs, potato salad (America’s Test Kitchen recipe—the best!), spicy slaw, guacamole, and fruit salad. Yesterday and today we’re eating leftovers.
Deb, that all sounds delicious! A recent WALL STREET JOURNAL article pronounced the Big Green Egg the best grill ever!
A happy MD feast, and more, then!
Surprisingly? few of my relatives (I’m aware of) have died in battle…an uncle from my Mason grandfather’s first family was a professional clown who was drafted into Korea and killed in action. Surely there’s no narrative possible to construct out of that. My maternal grandfather was (apparently) murdered in a coal mine during WW2, having served in WW1 as a corporal. My father came close to death while in the USAF, as the airmen only a few feet away from him at the airbase in Hawaii were killed when a missile rack on a a fighter jet’s wing fell off and crushed them; earlier, when he was stationed in Europe (he certainly got around as a enlisted “bus-driver”), he could’ve been cannon-fodder when, in 1956, he was among the US troops brought to the Austria/Hungary border when there was some thought of intervening in the Soviet invasion of Hungary. Somehow, all that didn’t ever lead me to consider a military career of my own. It’s a sober sort of reflection, of course.
Happier times for us all!
Todd, thanks for sharing those memories! I considered a military career in 1967 when I joined ROTC. I was on the Rifle Team and working on an assignment with tanks. But my path changed. My father served on a destroyer in the Pacific during World War II. His ship, the USS Kidd, was hit by a kamikaze plane and my father was injured. Later, he was awarded a Purple Heart. My father went to college on the GI Bill and met my mother. After they married, my father told my mother: “I never want to be on a ship again.”
Indeed, my father found his way out of relative poverty through the USAF, albeit he had a fascination with electronics that had led him, with a high-school friend, to set up a small tv repair business before graduation and enlistment in 1955. And then on to a career, post Air Force, with the FAA (after a summer of house-painting while interviewing, another job that he didn’t recommend…I repainted the family house the summer after finishing my BA and that convinced me he was Too Right, though I’ve had worse jobs before and since, if none that so challenged my discomfort with open heights. Spent the time listening to the Pacifica Radio coverage of Oliver North’s trial for most of the day, as we lived in the VA burbs of DC at the time, and DC has one of the core Pacifica stations. Happily neither I nor the radio fell at any point; the cicadas, out that year, sure did enjoy lighting on me, as I recall…not a problem unless they walked from clothing to bare skin, as they are rough-bodied bugs. Perhaps they wanted to Catch Up on human events, as well.
And, you know, I was thinking JROTC when I read ROTC above…what drove the dropping out, if it isn’t too prying a question? I had some friends in JROTC in my second high school, but also some of the most obnoxious louts were also involved, which helped reaffirm my desire to steer clear of any life-or-death placement of my fate in the likes of their hands.
Todd, Nixon’s Draft Lottery gave me Number 335 so I dropped out of ROTC the next day.
Todd, I, too, was in ROTC ever so briefly in college. Those above me in my squad were, to a man, smug, egotistical play-actors and I had better things to do than wqste my time with them.
Good reason, George. And, Jerry, particularly around the turn of the ’60s, I gather, I can only believe every letter of that characterization…considering the boneheads I encountered in the earliest ’80s in the junior version.