Sunglasses

I started wearing sunglasses in my early teens – not to look stylish, or to be in with the ‘cool kids,’ but because the sun is bright and hurts my eyes.  Normally I just buy cheap sunglasses because, well, I am cheap. Given the number of times I sit on/step on/drop/lose glasses it’s best not to invest too much into them.  I do like polarized lenses because they reduce glare.  I rarely get those – well we’re back to being cheap again.

When anyone comments about my sunglasses I say, “They’re just a cheap pair I picked up when I broke my last ones.”  I see no reason to tell them that my last pair was a cheap pair too.

I do remember my favorite sunglasses.  They were a pair of Navy pilot’s sunglasses and I got ‘em from a real Navy pilot name Gordon.  I wore them for years, until they were so scratched, bent and otherwise damaged to be useless.  I was about fifteen when I got them.

Gordon was a friend of our family and had been in the Navy about 20 years when I first got to know him.  One weekend I got a call from Gordon’s wife asking if I’d like to come over and do some yard work for them – I was offered actual money to come over and help.  Being the enterprising, money loving youth that I was, I was there before she hung up the phone. At the time, I earned the lofty sum of $2.00 per hour for yard work, plus lunch, if I had to work all day and she had a full day’s worth of work. As I recall, I ended up getting $18, two sandwiches, a bag of chips, an apple, three bottles of coke and half a bag of cookies.

The other thing I got was a pair of sunglasses.  While Gordon was paying me, he launched into his standard speech about how he had started working when he was twelve, how much he admired a hardworking youth and ended up asking what I was going to do with my new-found riches.  I knew better than to suggest I was going to blow the money on movies, candy, burgers and Mad Magazines so I said that I needed a new pair of sunglasses, since I had sat on my last pair, and broke them.

Turns out he had an old pair of pilot’s sunglasses he wasn’t using and he gave them to me.  They were great – think of the sunglasses worn in the movie Top Gun, they were just like that.  I wore them everywhere, school, church, friends houses, the movies…  My friends wanted to know where I got them and I’d tell anyone who’d listen that the were Navy fighter pilot’s sunglasses, from a real Navy fighter pilot.

Now that was a tiny bit of a lie.  Gordon was a trained pilot and while he had gone to fighter pilot school and had flown a fighter jet, he wasn’t a fighter pilot.  In reality he had washed-out of fighter school and was sent to fly P2s (and later P3s) sub-chaser aircraft.  When I knew him, his flying days were mostly over, and he was, as he would say, “flying a desk.”

So, it would have been more correct to say the glasses were given to me by a pilot who once flew a fighter trainer.  Given enough encouragement Gordon would tell stories about fighter pilot school and how he washed-out because failed the rendezvous test twice – normally with a long explanation on how hard it is to rendezvous with other aircraft when flying at mach 1.5 and suggesting that his teachers decided he’d be fine rendezvousing with something slower – say a submarine.

Those sunglasses are also part of the reason I never joined the Navy.

When I turned 18 and was considering my future, I decided I wanted to get into electronics.  My parents didn’t have enough money to send me to college, so I was mostly on my own for funding and had narrowed my choices down to a local technical school that would give me a student loan or joining the Navy.  The draft had ended a few years before so the recruiters were more than happy to spend lots of time talking to me.

My father wasn’t happy that I was considering enlisting but decided that it was my decision and he didn’t pressure me not to sign up.  Instead he went the other way to make sure I had all the facts I needed.  He encouraged me to talk to all the services (expect the Marines, father didn’t think I’d make a good Marine) and every one of his veteran friends. Then one day father suggested that I should call Gordon.

Well, I did.  I have to say that for a career Navy guy Gordon wasn’t all that enthusiastic at the thought of me enlisting but did his best to help.  He arranged for me to come on base to get a tour.  I wore my sunglasses, We had lunch at the officer’s club and Gordon talked a little about his experiences.  I mentioned to him what the recruiter told me, that I’d have to sign up for six years to get the training I wanted in electronics and computers.

To which, Gordon said, “Yes, that’s true but remember this, while they will guarantee you entry into all those electronics schools, should you fail at any one, you’re still in the Navy for six years and you could find yourself scraping barnacles off battleships.”

When I got home, I told my father about the visit.  Then my father said, “I am going to say this just once.  The decision is yours of course.  Now, I am not telling you to be a coward, but when Uncle Sam needs you – he’ll call.”

Uncle Sam never called and the tech school cheerfully handed me loan papers that launched me into the world of high-tech.

I don’t really know what finally happened to those sunglasses, but whenever I think of them, I think of Gordon and the path I didn’t take.

Till next week,
Andrew

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Twelve Years

Twelve years.  Twelve years ago last Monday.  The second most life changing day of my life.  That was the day Heather and I were married.  Life hasn’t been the same since.

It’s been better.  Much better.

At this point an enlightened reader would be asking, second most life changing day?

The biggest life changing day was the day I got it into my head to ask Heather if she’d marry me.  I wish I would have written down that day somewhere.  It was before the wedding, 6-8 months or so – don’t really know for sure.  I just remember I was scarred she’d say something like, “are you out of your mind?”

Well, my mental state is often in question, but it’s a big fear of mine to have that pointed out to me.

I’d like to tell some romantic story about a candlelight dinner, me getting on my knee, violin music playing gently in the background with me producing a ring from my vest pocket and asking, “Dearest, will thou marriest me?”

Romance isn’t something I do well, and as I recall the ‘question’ was more like a statement, “Marry me and you can stay here all the time.” Or, something genuinely stupid like that.  I do recall her having to confirm the question, “Did you just ask me to marry you?”

I also wish I’d written down the date on which she said ‘yes.’  She did say yes, I’ve got a paper she signed, and witnesses – lots of witnesses.  There even a few pictures – there would have been more but the photographer was an idiot and wedding pictures is something I try not to mention very often.

Such is married life – good times, bad times and sometimes just time.

It would be easy for me to launch into a long soliloquy on the virtues of my good lady.  Well, there are somethings I only tell her and I hope you get the point that I am still in love with this special woman.

There are times I wish I could give her more.  There are times that …

Well, she has given me so much – far more than I can write here.

This week we took time to spend some time together away from the world to celebrate our twelve years and start on our thirteenth.  We spent three days at a nice B&B by the sea and just enjoyed time together.

Just time, just us.

Till next week,
Andrew

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No Post Today

It’s one of those days where my brain is largely not functioning.  I sat down at the computer an hour ago to write my weekly post and so far I’ve got nothing.

Heather just gave me permission not to write so that’s what I am going to do.

Just wanted to let you all know that I am not writing today.  In the past I’ve said that if I don’t write, I’d post a picture.  Sorry, don’t have any pictures to post.  Well, I could go out a take one but that would involve effort and Heather’s using the camera cable right now to download some pictures.

Yes, we only own one download cable but have two cameras.  I could take a picture on my iPhone and email it but that would take about 10 mouse clicks and all my fingers are on the keyboard typing so that seems like it won’t work out for me today.

I did try to figure out something to write.  I’ve been thinking about a new business I’d like to start and was going to write all about it.  Seemed like a great idea until I started to think about how I’d explain it – then it started to sound like a bad idea and completely put me off the whole idea so I am not going to tell you about it.

Some times when I can’t think of what to write, I’ll reread my last post, read someone else’s blog, check out the news, maybe watch a short woodworking video or two.  Or in today’s case, three.  Normally I find my writing rhythm in about 10-15 minutes.

Today I was 52 minutes into that when I got an email which distracted me. Then Heather asked a question and looking at the clock I should be putting the pizza in the oven soon.

Maybe it’s some weird late side effect from my radiation treatment. Or possibly some late onset ADHD.  Not really sure what that is but a co-worker of my blames a lot his problems on it.  Oh look, I got another email.

I’ve been rereading the whole Harry Potter series and re-watching watching all the movies.  Which has nothing to do with why I can’t write today but I thought I’d mention it as it could be significant.  There must be some deep physiological need that has driven me to do this.

Now that I am writing about it, it is really starting to bother me.  On most Sundays I can sit down and knock out a thousand words, edit it down to 750 all while getting the pizza in the oven and finding the camera download cable.

Sorry, Heather is still using it.  Not that it would help since I don’t have any pictures to download.

Just had a great idea – opened up iPhoto and found some pictures in there that I’ve never posted.  Yes, I had to move my hand to the mouse to do that but it only took four clicks to find this picture of a bridge over a creak.  This is from one of our favorite hikes along Fall Creek.  This little bridge crosses the creek and I’ve always thought it would make a great marquetry picture.

Fall Creek Bridge

The bridge over Fall Creek

Well, sorry I didn’t write a post this week but sometimes it goes like that.

Till next week,
Andrew

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Whiny Post

The last two weeks of work have been horrible.

Mind numbing the phase that pops into my mind.  Well, when anything pops into my mind – you see it’s a bit numb at the moment.  Have you ever gotten to the point where words just bounce off your brain?  It’s been happening to me all week.  People will come up to me and start talking.  I know they are talking because their mouths move and sound comes out.  Just about the time my brain connects the fact that sound is words and that they’re trying to tell me something, they stop making the sounds.  It’s at this moment that I know they’ve asked a question.

And I have no clue what they’ve just said because the words have been hitting that part of my brain that has been numbed by over use. They are just bouncing harmlessly into space having made no impact at all.

Some people might try a tactic at this point to save face by saying something like, “I’m not sure I understand the problem – could you go over that again?”

When I was younger and cared about what people thought about me, that’s what I would do.  These days I either just admit my defects by saying, “Sorry my brain is numb and I have no idea what you just asked me.” Or I just head for insanity and reply with, “I wish I could answer your question, but I am afraid that aliens will eat my brains if I do.”

Either answer works, as the person trying to talk to me generally gives up and goes away.

I have been complaining about my work load to my co-workers and my boss.  My co-workers are sympathetic and usually say something comforting like, “well if you think that is bad wait till you hear this …”  My boss generally tries something like, “You know the plan is to hire someone to help you, next year.”

This is the point in weekly my weekly blog post where I’d write some clever transition or flourish some witticism at you.

But this week my brain is numb and I don’t have anything clever or witty.

So instead I’ll just end this post by showing you one of my coping methods – building things in my workshop.  There is nothing quite like the sound of a saw slicing through wood to comfort the soul.  Beating a nail to death with a hammer has the ability to reduce stress and calm the nerves.  When I’ve had time lately I’ve been working on cleaning up my workshop.  Here is a picture of my new lumber rack:

Lumber Rack

My new place to store junk

Here is the space I got back in my shop by moving all that lumber scrap out:

Shop Space

Where the lumber used to be stacked

And finally here is the nearly completed deck.  It just needs the trellis at the top finished:

deck with top

Almost done. Just a few more sticks to nail on.

Till next week,
Andrew

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