Tag: Ricky

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Thanksgiving 2013 by Ricky

            Another Thanksgiving holiday is upon
us and I always take time to ponder the things I am thankful for but this year I
am also thinking about the changes that have taken place over my lifetime.  Back-in-the-day (I am old enough to use that
expression and it actually has meaning) as a young lad I really enjoyed the
holiday season.  First, Halloween
followed by Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve managed to offset the
after Labor Day plague of school homework with visions of “tons” of candy,
turkey and pumpkin pie, and presents, and the ever popular 1 ½ to 2 weeks of
time off from school.
          Thanksgiving
was marked by comments like “stay out of my way” or “stay out of the kitchen while
I’m fixing the turkey” or “you can help best by going outside and play while I
get this meal done.”  It was hard (read
that as impossible) for a young boy to stay away from the kitchen when all
those marvelous aromas kept wafting (to me at the time “pouring”) out of the
kitchen.  Naturally, mother had to
“remind” me to “Stay out!” and “Keep away from that pie!” all with an elevated
voice (to be polite about her emphasis). 
However, at last, all the waiting was done and the most excellent of all
meals was consumed (for several days after also) only to be repeated at
Christmas dinner.
          I can remember
that Thanksgiving was “promoted” not only on school bulletin boards in the
classrooms where each teacher and students would try to have the best
Thanksgiving displays in the entire school. 
My class’s was clearly the best each and every time but, those biased
judges never managed to pick my class as the winner.
          The community
also decorated for Thanksgiving.  Mostly
it was done by the various businesses by putting up window decorations.  The department stores fancied up their window
displays with Thanksgiving themes surrounding the mannequins on display.  Sadly, this “custom” did not last as the movement
to purchase gifts for Christmas began to gain momentum in the business
community moved the Christmas displays ever earlier in the year finally
eclipsing Thanksgiving in favor of making the “almighty dollar” sooner rather
than later.  Once again, greed conquered
gratefulness in our society.  Now only
the truly dedicated believers in a “higher power” take time to remember why the
Thanksgiving Day holiday was created.  It
saddens me.
          Fortunately, I
remember the purpose of the holiday so here is my list of things I am thankful
and grateful for this season.
I am thankful for: being alive at 65;
having good health; my deceased wife; all my children; the opportunity to be
educated; living in The United States; learning to read via phonics in
Minnesota schools; living with my grandparent’s and uncle on a farm for two
years; being lonely enough to join the Boy Scouts; my brother and sister; my
father and all he has done for and to me; my mother and step-father; all my
mistakes whether or not I learned from them; as they were the catalyst for my
coming out; all my acquaintances at SAGE’s Telling Your Story group, and Prime
Timers; and finally that I was not aborted but allowed to live and have all the
adventures and experiences I had and will have in the future.

© 25 November 2013 

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in
Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach.  Just
prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on
their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my
parents divorced.
When united with my mother and stepfather two years later
in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California,
graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force,
I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until
her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11
terrorist attack.
I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.   I find writing these memories to be
therapeutic.
My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.
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Culture Shock by Ricky

“Culture” is a word that strikes fear into the world’s families of bacterium as if they know that shortly following the culturing will be an anti-biotic of the lethal type for all or specific families. A situation quite shocking from the point of view of the bacterium.

“Culture” is a word that creates feelings of loathing in the stereotype masses of the American populace. For some reason they feel that quality music in the form of opera, symphonies, and songs where one can actually hear and understand the lyrics is not of any worth. Thus, they vote to stop government support for these enterprises. As for TV entertainment, the masses do not seem to like a broadcast which does not contain lots of violence, sexual innuendo, or cheap humor.

These same masses will support government support for the things they prefer, for example baseball, football, and soccer stadiums. But worse of all is their tendency to label those who do like quality music, songs, TV, screen play, or drama productions as elitists (at best) or snobs (at worse).

“Culture” is a word that creates feelings of joy or happiness in the stereotypical well-to-do (previously referred to as elitists or snobs). This group also tends to view the “less fortunate others” as undesirables for friendships and as a drain on the public treasury. Thus, they vote to cut social programs that support the poor, as the poor are viewed as lazy and uncouth leeches.

Of course these stereotypical views are not totally accurate and there are those of us who enjoy activities and recreations that fall into both camps. Sadly though, we are a minority.

“Culture Shock” commonly occurs when persons from one background encounter persons from another. An example is when “Johnny-Reb” moves into “Damn Yankee” territory or vice versa; or when a “New Yorker” moves to San Francisco; or when anyone from the east or west coasts moves into the mid-west or America’s “heartland” (the “fly-over” parts from which many gay men and women escape and move to either of the coasts).

One example occurred in my own home. My oldest daughter married a man from the Republic of Georgia. After he obtained citizenship here, he arranged to have his parents move to Lakewood and live with me and them. His parents grew up entirely under the authority of the old Soviet Union and its economic and social “values.” Maria grew up on a collective farm and so worked hard as she grew.

One day, my daughter took her mother-in-law to a discount store to buy her a new purse. While trying to decide which of many different styles to buy, Maria began to cry. When asked why by my daughter, she replied that there were too many choices and she could not make a decision. Maria was faced with “culture-of-plenty” shock.

Other “shocking” opportunities occur when military, police, gang, generational, and sexual orientation cultures have values that clash.

I have not experienced culture shock per se. What I am experiencing is culture confusion. Being a closeted gay boy since my young teen years, I lived in the straight world most of my life. When I finally officially “came out,” at age 63, I was gently exposed to the gay “culture” of senior men. Then I learned a little of other sub-groups of gay culture; some of which apparently don’t “play well” together, physically or politically.

So just as Maria experienced culture shock trying to adjust from a Soviet life of “little” to an American culture of abundance, So in my case, I am trying to understand all the subtleties of the elusive gay culture. Since I do not generally expose myself to the sub-groups of that culture, I am not likely to ever comprehend them well enough to form a cohesive or unifying understanding.

© 26 November 2012

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com

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He Was Bored by Ricky

This is a story filled with physical violence, sadism, masochism, extreme pain, and a bit of courage. So naturally, it will be boring.

Once upon a time, or in other words, this ain’t no shit, there was a small, thin, appropriately proportioned 8-year old boy who lived at the time of this story in Minnesota. In order to save having to write boring descriptions of this kid, just imagine that he looked like an 8-year old me since what he looked like is not important to the story.

As I said previously, once upon a time, there was this boy who was terribly afraid of needles used to give shots. One day he was taken to this office to see a man, he was told was going to help him.

Upon entering the man’s office, he discovered that the man was supposed to be a doctor but not a doctor he had ever heard of before. This doctor was a tooth doctor or a dentist, if you will. The boy was not nervous or afraid of this doctor.

Once seated in a chair which resembled a barber’s chair which the boy was familiar with and so still was not afraid of anything, the world the boy was comfortable living in suddenly began to change.

The once nice and pleasant doctor dentist examined the boy’s teeth and said that he needed to fix one of the teeth today and another two teeth another day. He then produced a syringe with (what appeared to the boy) a mile long needle. Fear fueled by adrenaline filled the boy and he refused to open his mouth to admit the needle. After wasting several minutes pleading in vain with the boy to let him give the boy a shot in his mouth to prevent pain, the sadistic dentist began to use a drill to bore into the sick tooth.

The first time the drill hit the tooth’s nerve a scream of pain filled the room and probably the street outside too. It was a horrible scene to witness, a poor little child being brutalized by a dentist. Nonetheless, the boy persevered and the nasty dentist eventually finished the task and the boy left.

On the next visit, and for the rest of his life, the boy wisely accepted the brief pain of the shot and avoided the trauma of tooth pain, but he still dislikes being in the dentist chair.

© 28 April 2014

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com

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Solitude Began Long Ago and Far Away by Ricky

          In my opinion, there are three types of solitude: of the
body, of the mind, and of both the mind and body simultaneously.  There are two sub categories of solitude:
self-imposed and externally imposed.  Each
of these categories and sub categories have degrees of effect and affectation
upon a person.
          The
following are examples:
TYPES
SELF-IMPOSED
EXTERNALLY
IMPOSED
Solitude
of the Body
Shutting oneself away from
contact with others; a hermit like existence.
Imprisoned; trapped by a
natural disaster; shipwrecked on a deserted island.
Solitude
of the Mind
Tuning out distractions while
reading or watching a movie; being in a crowd but feeling alone.
Being alone (not by choice)
with no TV, radio, telephone, or other common objects to occupy one’s
thoughts; being deaf and blind; being in a coma; Alzheimer’s Disease.
Solitude
of Both the Mind & Body
Becoming a hermit and
eschewing all means of communication with the “outside” world.
Being stranded somewhere without
resources or companionship.
          On a personal note, I have experienced self-imposed
solitude several times in my life beginning long ago and far away in 1953 at
the Hawthorne Christian School in Hawthorne, California.  My withdrawal from personal contact with
other peers occurred as the result of being punched in the stomach by someone I
thought was a friend.  I learned that my
peers were not safe.  Since my father was
the disciplinarian in our family, I already knew that I was not safe around
adults either.
          In December 1957, I was living on my grandparent’s farm
when my father informed me of his divorce from my mother.  In spite of two loving grandparents and a
sympathetic uncle, I realized that I was alone in a world where nothing is
safe, secure, or permanent.
          By June of 1958, my self-imposed solitude of the mind and
moderate solitude of the body became complete until I left home for military
service.  From the time my mother and
step-father came to Minnesota and returned me to Lake Tahoe, California, I have
been what most people would classify as a “loner”.  Living for my first summer at the Emerald Bay
Resort, I had no peer interaction except for the occasional young passengers on
my step-father’s tour boat.
          Having unintentionally proved to my mother that at 10-years
old I could properly care for my infant twin brother and sister, I became the
live-in babysitter for the next 9-years, which severely limited my after school
social life.  Still, I was not lonely but
I did learn to entertain myself with books and games with my siblings.  If I was not reading or playing, I
entertained myself in other ways.  If
anyone else had been around, they would have said of me that I was the “poster
child” for the saying, “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop.”  I engaged in many risky behaviors.  The only reason I did not eventually end up
in reform school, was that I joined the Boy Scouts.
          Even in the scouts I was still alone.  As the oldest boy in the troop and the Senior
Patrol Leader, I had to set an example and thus did not have any close scout
friends.  I was closer to the scoutmaster
than any of the boys.  He was my “father
figure” in the absence of my real father and step-father.
          In college and the Air Force I had few to no close friends
and continued to remain aloof from others (still being in the closet didn’t
help).  My philosophy on friendship (due
to all the situations previously mentioned), was “I will be a friend but the
other person had to make the first move”. 
Apparently, nearly everyone I liked was doing the same so friendships
failed to materialize.
Eventually, I met Deborah
and we became good friends before we married. 
I had a good life with her, but I still was not thriving and was playing
a lone hand.  After she passed away, I
lost my joy of life and withdrew from everything I loved to do for 10-years
before I finally came out of depression.
My solitude did begin long
ago and far away, but it has followed me even to this day.  One other thing I’ve learned about solitude —
I don’t like it one little bit.  I crave
companionship for everything I like to do by way of entertainment.  I have only minimal fun doing things alone.  I am beginning to thrive but still have a
long way to go.  Perhaps if I live long
enough, I will be able to state, “I left my solitude long ago and far away.”

© 23 September 2013 

About the Author 

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in
Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach.  Just
prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on
their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my
parents divorced.
When united with my mother and stepfather two years later
in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California,
graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force,
I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until
her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11
terrorist attack.
I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.   I find writing these memories to be
therapeutic.
My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.
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For a Good Time… by Ricky

For a good time, lobby the Boy Scouts of America to change their discriminatory policy of prohibiting openly gay/lesbian adults from becoming leaders. Once the change is made, (unless you are a pedophile) join a scout troop as an adult leader of some sort. The time you donate helping a scout troop or Cub Scout pack will either add years to your life or wear you out sooner. In either case, you will have a wonderful time being around cub or boy scouts and participating in their activities.

Inasmuch as the Boy Scouts of America have now changed their policy of discrimination of barring openly homosexual adults (who are not pedophiles) from being adult leaders in scout troops, to allowing individual units and sponsoring organizations to choose whatever policy they will follow, it is now appropriate to lend your individual and financial support to whichever unit that chooses to not discriminate.

It is also fitting that religious sponsors can also choose a policy for their membership to follow. 

I will not support any sponsor, district, or troop/pack individually or financially if their choice is to continue discrimination at the “local” level.

© 12 August 2013 / 19 July 2015

About the Author



I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.

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Reframing Reality by Ricky

Perhaps a better term would be Remaking Reality. I am sure most of us have at one time or another wished we could make changes in the actual reality we exist in or that surrounds us all. For example, changes that would allow all people to age but whose bodies would not show age or become infirm; diseases would not exist; no one would seek to harm anyone else; everyone would live peaceably; and everyone would practice good manners with common courtesy towards all. These seem to be examples of reframing or remaking reality that would be good, nice, and pleasant to have surrounding us. You could think of other changes that also would appear to be beneficial. Society could certainly gain much from such a remaking. But, what would society or more specifically, individual people lose with the changes?

At 12 years old, I remade my reality by mentality deciding that like Peter Pan, I did not want to “grow up.” To a very large degree, my subconscious made that happen mentality but could not stop the biological progression from boy to man. With some outside influences, I have lived within that reality my whole life from 12 forward. While my life’s “journey” has had great swings in stress levels and peacefulness, I have maintained a childlike personality that is able to see humor in the darkest of events and make jokes amid tragedy. I can even see the positive in negative events, sometimes even as the events are occurring.

Consequently, I can appreciate good health because I’ve experienced illness. I can appreciate the routine and proper operation of my body’s parts because I’ve experienced pain. I can appreciate and bask in love because I’ve experienced the lack of love and seen hate. I can appreciate life because I’ve seen and experienced the death of others. I can enjoy and appreciate good music because I’ve heard noise and screaming lyrics posing as music. I can enjoy family and friends because I’ve been alone. I am grateful for my finances because I’ve been poor. I appreciate my education because I’ve seen and experienced ignorance in myself and others. I can appreciate even modest food because I’ve seen starvation. I can work for peace because I’ve seen the results of war. I can be as generous as I can because I’ve seen greed destroy. I can be drug and alcohol free because I’ve grown up with alcoholics and seen the results of drug use. I can obey traffic laws because I’ve been to too many accidents where men, women, and children died. I know joy and happiness because I’ve suffered depression and sorrow. I can face life’s challenges because I’ve developed the inner strength and resourcefulness needed to overcome the challenges.

What one LOSES by remaking reality into what appears to be a happy, peaceful, bucolic existence is an appreciation of WHY such an existence IS happy, peaceful, bucolic, and desirable in the first place. The “silver lining” in the cloud of a “hard-knock-life” is, knowing exactly what happiness, joyfulness, peacefulness, goodness, and love really feel like when one encounters them. In other words, without the negatives for comparison, there can be no positives.

From a religious point of view, Adam and Eve HAD to eat that “apple” or they would not have known the difference between obedience and disobedience but would have remained in ignorance for as long as they lived. That one act introduced the negatives into Earth life and we have all been blessed as the result.

Homophobic ignoramuses don’t need to have their reality reframed or remade. All they need is an attitude adjustment by a swift kick in the pants—preferably by their fathers and a dose of castor oil from their mothers. That should do the trick. Maybe we can get the governor to arrange for “film at 11” reporting on the event.

© 18 June 2014

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com

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Secrets: High School by Ricky

My guess is that many people have things that they really don’t want everyone to know that would fall into the category of “personal” rather than “secret.” Of course governments and politicians or others in authority routinely abuse the “official” system of designating some information as belonging to the class “state secrets.”

The only one of those that I am personally aware of (and involved in not keeping) occurred when I was stationed in Florida with the Air Force during the Vietnam era. One day my First Sergeant called me into his office and asked me what my security clearance level was. I told him Top Secret. He then handed me a folder and said read this. Inside was a message labeled “Secret” which said, “The Inspector General team will arrive at your base at 1300 hours [tomorrow—I don’t remember the date].” It was nice to get a heads up, but my section (Headquarters Squadron Section; Orderly Room) was already “perfect,” if I do say so myself. So, I didn’t need the warning. But it did indicate that someone at higher headquarters was circumventing the system of surprise inspections. I’ve never trusted the government since; or at least became suspicious every time some official claimed, “Sorry, that’s classified information.”

In high school I was pretty much an honest person and had nothing to hide. Naturally, I didn’t want just anyone in high school to know that I liked to suck dick, but since I remained naïve throughout the time period that 69ing was a definition of homosexuality, I still classify that item as personal and not a secret per say; you can disagree, but that was how I viewed it. Mostly because at the time, I didn’t even know what a homosexual was as I never had heard the word used or defined in my presence.

This weekend, while here at So. Lake Tahoe, I attended my 45th class reunion. I was worried that no one would remember me as I was a nerdy type who never socialized after school due to having to be home to babysit my younger siblings. I worried for nothing. Within 5 minutes one elderly dude (I can say that because the class of ’66 members are the same age and 63 is pushing “elderly” in my book; not “old”, but “senior citizens”). I didn’t not recognize him and when he began to tell me that “you lived on this street [drawing in the air with his hands] and I lived over here on Becka Street.” I knew he remembered much that I didn’t. He then “reminded” me that he had been to my house a couple of times so I could teach him how to play chess. When I asked him how we met, he looked at me and said, “Duh, high school,” and then gave me the embarrassment coup-de-gra by stating, “I was in your Explorer Scout Post.” Strangely adding to my embarrassment, just a few days earlier I had seen in the old newspapers I was researching for articles on Scouting, a large photograph of our Explorer Post and he was not in it when the photo was taken.

I met others and when the subject came up I discovered that several admitted that their parents had been alcoholics also. Most of those who shared that information (personal or secret you be the judge) with me also said that many classmates they spoke to besides me had said the same thing.

The biggest secret from high school then, turned out to be that while individually we all may have thought that all our classmates had “Father Knows Best” and “Leave It to Beaver” home lives, we actually had the darker side of family life in common. How much better high school could have been if we had only known and not had be to be so stressed out to not let others know of our personal pain and shame.

@ 2012

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com

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Magic by Ricky

No matter how hard we wish or dream or day-dream about the concept, “magic” does not exist. This is assuredly a very good thing because who among us is perfect enough to use such power wisely and judiciously. Certainly no one I know of or heard of. All people have thoughts and ideas of what they would do with the ability to utilize “magical” power. Some would attempt to do good deeds, some altruistic deeds, or to meet personal needs and to meet the needs of others. But also there would be those who abuse the potential magic offers by enriching themselves at the expense of others or to commit crimes against others or society at large. What if the Nazis, Stalin, homophobes, or even homosexuals had such power? Or worst yet religious leaders. How would you like to be a Methodist one minute and a Catholic (or some other religion) the next, always changing at random intervals as some religious fanatic uses his “magic”?  The result is chaos. Only in story books like Isaac Asimov’s Foundation, is there a “happy ending,” but still with the loss of “free will.”

No! No one can be trusted to wield such power. It would destroy our ability to choose our own destiny. I am the most perfect person I know, but I cannot even trust myself. If I cannot be trusted with such power, then no one should.

Stage magicians don’t have magic. They know only the “secrets” of sleight-of-hand, smoke, mirrors, and misdirection. They are the masters of illusion only.

Religious magic is usually referred to as “miracles”. While some reported miraculous events may be very hard, if not impossible, to believe, others are not so easily dismissed out of hand. While scientific analysis using knowledge gained over the centuries may explain the cause-and-effect relationship to certain mystical or miraculous occurrences which follow the laws of nature, there still remains the issue of the timing/occurrence of the miraculous event matching the recorded need at the precise moment. Undoubtedly, even those “coincidences” will be “scientifically” explained someday.

Too many coincidences indicate that some not understood “force” is at work. As the fictional character, Sherlock Holmes, said in Chapter Six of The Sign of Four, “How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?” The problem for us today is to determine exactly “what is impossible.” If it is true that “whatever man can imagine, he can do,” then ultimately, is anything really impossible?

Perhaps there is some reality to the “power of belief” that has yet to be scientifically proven as legitimate and fact.

There is one area where “magic” is real—within the usage of language and music to convey a specific aura or feeling. One can describe a sunrise or sunset using words which accurately and literally express the scene being viewed with a dry and boring text. But alter the words used just a little and add music and the word “magical” describing how it made you feel — and the impact does indeed swell within one’s breast.

This then is the real realm of magic; taking common everyday occurrences in nature or life and giving them the power to influence our lives for better or worse.

© 26 August 2013

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com

Posted on

Point of View by Ricky

If one were to confine this topic to politics and politicians, there really is no such thing as “point of view” but only points of contention or disagreement. One only has to look at our present Congress to see the truth of this statement, which just happens to be my point of view on the subject of politics.

But leaving politics behind and moving to religion, a similar situation arises. Ephesians 4:5 states, “One Lord, one faith, one baptism …” but different Christian denominations baptize members using non-standardized methods and (in the case of children) at different ages. Some even claim that baptism is not even necessary. Wars have started over such points of contention.

So, leaving both politics and religion out of any further consideration I can limit my thoughts to points of view between common citizens. Obviously, disagreements between people can also escalate into confrontations which may or may not become violent. After all, points of view are dangerous in the wrong minds attached to uncontrollable mouths or a word processor. Therefore, I will continue to shrink the viewing of my points to the times I served in the U.S. Air Force.

I first served from December 1967 to September 1971 when I was released early to attend college as the Vietnam non-war was ending. I enjoyed my time in the service mostly because I was stationed in Florida after basic training and my Commander and First Sergeant were good and decent people who treated all the enlisted personnel under their authority very well. This I can contrast with my next period of service which began in May of 1978 when I graduated college.

The only thing I did not like about my enlisted time was being told where and when I could live somewhere. Between the end of my enlistment and my graduation, I had married and now where ever I lived my family would be with me so that particular peeve no longer applied. I returned to the Air Force as an officer in the Security Police career field. I spent the next 12-years supervising the enlisted force guarding nuclear missiles, nuclear armed bombers, and nuclear weapons in storage and the base law enforcement personnel, and also as a nuclear weapons convoy commander.

I was assigned to units of the Strategic Air Command (SAC). The military officer culture of SAC is tightly structured and controlled because SAC was always one-step closer to going to war than all other units of the Air Force. SAC’s official motto was “Peace is Our Profession.” The unofficial version was, “Peace is Our Profession—War is Our Hobby.” This is probably the last point where our points of view coincided.

POINT OF VIEW #1—Training – My View: Training activities are to be used to teach and improve performance of personnel. Their View: Any mistake in training is to be severely criticized and appropriate punishment inflicted. There are too many examples in my military life to even try to pick one, so I won’t.

POINT OF VIEW #2—Suggestions – My View: When a senior officer asks for comments, suggestions, or opinions, the person asking wants an answer, so respond. Their View: “I did not mean it. If you choose to answer, give me the answer I want to hear. Be a ‘Yes-man’.” (It took me way too long to realize this truth.)

I once reminded my colonel (the Security Police Group Commander) of a commitment he made to the personnel in my squadron. (I did this at the morning briefing with all the intermediate commanders in attendance. I was still a lieutenant.) He had told our personnel that he was going to visit each flight on the midnight-shift. I reminded him that he had done this for the other three flights but not my flight and the men had asked me about it. As a result, he came out and visited that very night. I took the opportunity to suggest that he ride with me and I gave him a tour of the nuclear weapons storage area and demonstrated a “starlight scope.”

The men had been complaining about the bag lunches delivered to them. The colonel just happened to be there when the lunches arrived and got to see them first hand. The men wanted to know why they could not have hot lunches delivered like the aircraft maintenance personnel who were brought hot lunches in specially insulated cabinets. Back-office personnel had known about this issue for over a year but had done nothing to make it happen. As a result of that visit and my suggestions, within a week hot meals were delivered and the starlight scopes were posted with the security patrols and not just kept locked up in the armory

Also, as a result, my commander and the back-office personnel took a strong dislike to me. My commander because in his point of view, I had jumped the chain-of-command and made him look bad or ineffective. The back-office personnel because in their point of view, I made them look lazy and uncaring. In my point of view, I had taken care of my men and enhanced the security of the base.

POINT OF VIEW #3—Disposition of Personnel – My View: The right person in the right position. Their View: Reward the “team-players” with positions on the day-shift.

In peace-time how do you evaluate the readiness and effectiveness of military personnel? There are perhaps several different methods, but the one I saw most often would be called dramaturgical behaviors—how well do personnel march; are their uniforms clean, starched, and shoes and metal parts shiny; is their military “bearing” above reproach; is all paperwork perfect in every way; and are their equipment or weapons clean and in good repair? In other words, does everything and everyone look good?

One variation of this concept I saw consistently throughout my career. The most knowledgeable and experienced officers and enlisted personnel were assigned to the day-shift where they could impress all commanders on base, who almost to the man, only worked day-shift hours. All the less knowledgeable officers and enlisted personnel worked the rotating swing and mid-shifts out of sight, while those who are responsible for training and observing performance sleep. My view point is that you should put the most experienced and knowledgeable personnel on shifts where they need little or no supervision while everyone else sleeps at night.

These are a few of the reasons why the Air Force decided we need to part company. Our points of view were never really compatible.

© 25 November 2013

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los
Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to
turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm
in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents
divorced.
When united with my mother and
stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at
South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.
After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where
I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from
complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the
summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com

Posted on

Depraved by Ricky

          The word depraved
comes to us via the 14th century AD (1325-75 to be less precise).
The Middle English (or was it Middle Earth???) word depraven (Anglo-French)
which in turn was descended from the Latin depravare.  But then who really cares about that.  Does that make me depraved because I don’t
really care from where the word came?
          I sort of enjoy the
obsolete usage of the word, as in; The Republicans keep depraving President
Obama’s efforts, citizenship, and religious faith.  Especially since their real reason for
attacking him (beyond being power hungry) 
is not his politics but his skin color. 
They are afraid of losing the support of Black Republicans who could
vote as a block for a black candidate. 
          The more common
usage of the word falls into three primary categories: 1. to
make morally bad or evil; 2.
to vitiate; and 3. to corrupt.  So here’s the problem with these
definitions.  What is morally bad or
evil?  In Christianity the moral code is
fairly standard among the various sects, but not entirely.  Other religions have other criteria.  In Christianity it is morally wrong to lie
and bare false witness against someone, but does that make homophobe closeted homosexual
preachers “depraved” or just lying hypocrites? If a husband or boyfriend lies
in answering the question, “Sweetheart, do you like this new lamp I bought?” to
avoid hurting the feelings of his loved one OR to avoid an argument over the
lamp, is he depraved for not telling his honest opinion?
          What is
evil?  Most religious people would agree
that the Devil is evil, but what acts does he do that are evil?  Tempting people to violate the moral
code?  If tempting people is evil, then
all people who encourage others who are on a diet to eat something “just this
once” or talk an alcoholic into having just one little drink would be
classified as evil.  I doubt most people
would agree to that.  Is Ted Haggart evil
because (before he was allegedly “cured of his homosexuality”) he “was” a hypocrite?   If the Devil is evil because
he says there is no God, what about parents who declare Santa Clause or the
Easter Bunny real to their children, or people who lie and cheat on their
income taxes? Are they all evil too? 
What about the case of political parties or individual political groups
who lie about and distort the truth about another candidate?  Are they also evil?  If Americans cannot yell “FIRE” in a theater
as a joke without being punished, why can people in political campaigns slander
an opponent with no legal consequence? 
Isn’t slandering a good man “evil”.
          I really don’t
even want to discuss the “to vitiate” and “to corrupt” categories, so I am done
ranting except for one more thought.  If
there is no God or Supreme Being or etc., how can there be a legitimate moral
code to base our laws upon.  Where can a
person go to find a place where his so called “depravities” are his “pursuits
of happiness”.
Origin: 
1325–75; Middle English depraven  (< Anglo-French )
< Latin dēprāvāre  to pervert,corrupt, equivalent to dē- de-  + prāv ( us )crooked + -āre  infinitive suffix

de·prave [dih-preyv] 

verb (used with object), -praved, -prav·ing.
to make morally bad or evil; vitiate;corrupt.
Obsolete . to defame.

vi·ti·ate [vish-ee-eyt] 

verb (used with object), -at·ed, -at·ing.
to impair the quality of; make faulty;spoil.
to impair or weaken the effectiveness of.
to debase; corrupt; pervert.
to make legally defective or invalid;invalidate: to vitiate a claim.

©
5 Dec 2011 

About the Author 

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in
Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach.  Just
prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on
their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my
parents divorced.
When united with my mother and stepfather two years later
in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California,
graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force,
I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until
her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11
terrorist attack.
I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.   I find writing these memories to be
therapeutic.
My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.