Cop Car's Beat

Spring is nearly here & I'm spring cleaning

First bouquet of the (almost spring) season

Although most of our bouquets are placed where Hunky Husband can enjoy them from "the master's chair", this particular bouquet should be dedicated to Elder Brother (EB) whose 85th birthday is today. Nineteen thirty-six was a banner year. Not only was EB born in 1936, but each of us three siblings (who survived infancy) married a spouse who was born in 1936. I'm remembering, though, that EB's wife succumbed to pancreatic cancer eight years ago. We miss her. She would have turned 85 in mid-February.

My birthday present to EB was foregoing singing "Happy Birthday" to him when we called him. He had two feet of snow on the ground. We had received heavy blobs of snow for several hours, yesterday; but, only a smattering had stuck (to bare ground areas) when we retired last night and nothing was left this morning. We have received about 2.2" of liquid moisture in the past 48 hours.

Spring cleaning our safety deposit box

About a week ago, I removed nearly everything from the safety deposit box that we keep at a local financial institution, bringing it home to sort out and update our inventory listing. Oh, my! We are pretty good about stuffing papers & items into the box; but, we're not good at shredding old papers and keeping the inventory listing updated. The biggest mess was our accordion file labeled "Isurance" (well...Hunky Husband was having a bad day with the labeler, I guess.) That file contained insurance papers dating back to 2007. I culled out more than half of the papers before throwing the rest into a bag to take to our agent's office. Our agent, Ron, wasn't in the office; but, in response to my crying and begging, his right hand assistant Monica replied, "You know we love you!" She would sort through to see if she agreed with me that most of the papers could be shredded.

An hour later, when we stopped by again, Ron showed us the large bunch of papers that were ready to shred and gave me the bag. It now contained four pristine envelopes - each labeled with the insurance policy and date in Monica's handwriting. Monica had also found an envelope containing the title to HH's car which I had noted as missing from the accordion file labeled "Car & Home Papers". Ron & Monica give service well above and beyond duty. Ron even offered to shred the unneeded papers for me.

Now, I need to take a fistful of EE bonds, that I had purchased through paycheck withholding before retirement, to the credit union for cashing in. According to the treasury website, the bonds haven't drawn interest in several years, despite my note that EEs didn't stop drawing interest until they were at least 30 years old and these had not yet reached that limit. Laws/policies must have changed in the meantime.

It's a good thing to get the excess paper out of the box to make room for the new. I am putting into the box the originals of the legal documents that our lawyer drew up for us in May 2020 - general and healthcare durable powers of attorney for each of us, plus a power of attorney for both of us on our house and lots - a total of about 80 sheets of 8.5"x11" paper.

Paying respects to 400,000 COVID-19 deaths in USA

Full screen display is recommended for playing the embedded videos.

 

 

Among the nation-wide remembrances of those lost to COVID-19 is the lighting of the Empire State Building in New York City. It broke me when a commentator pointed out that the lighting mimics the beating of a human heart.

2020 - a costly year in human lives

Around the world, the deaths due to COVID-19 or the effects of the pandemic have been horrific. No one could fail to be saddened by those deaths. On a more personal note, I have been saddened by deaths among work friends and social friends of years gone by.

The following listing includes those deaths that occurred in the past year or so, of which I have learned. May each rest in peace.

• Brother of Dudette's dear school chum: Steven W Allen MD (Andover, Kansas), 60, Andover, Kansas, died December 23, 2020
• Blogging friend: Veronica "Ronni" Bennett, 79, near Portland, Oregon, died October 30, 2020
• Cessna friend & coworker: Lyle Morris Bitker, 73, Green Valley, Arizona, died March 8, 2020
• Cessna coworker: Lloyd Stuart (Stu) Curtis Jr, 56, of Panama City, Florida, died September 13, 2020
• Cessna friend & coworker: Richard (Dick) Geide Jr, 89, Wichita, Kansas, died November 24, 2020

 

• Closest friend of Elder Brother & CC's friend: Johannes (Hans) S Gerthe, 88, Loveland, Colorado, died April 29, 2020
• Cessna friend & coworker: Roy Lee Harder, 88, Wichita, Kansas, died December 14, 2020
• Cessna coworker: T. Frank Harris, 92, Wichita, Kansas, died  August 8, 2020
• Social Family Friend: Kathryn (Kay) Harrison, 83, Derby, Kansas, died November 19, 2020
• Social Family Friend: Roger Heitschmidt, 79, Chapel Hill, Tennessee, died December 12, 2020

 

• Social Family Friend: Donna Charlene Hutton, 80, Laurie, Missouri, died December 8, 2020
• Social Family Friend: Raymond Michael (Mike) Hutton, 84, Laurie, Missouri, died December 1, 2020
• Social Family Friend: Gloria Hutton PhD, 84, Derby, Kansas, died December 25, 2019
• Cessna coworker: James (Jim) Leibold, 86, Clearwater, Kansas, died November 8, 2020
• Cessna coworker: Gale Lynn Meek, 73, Wichita, Kansas, died March 25, 2020

 

• Cessna friend & coworker: Milan Rodovanov, 89, Wichita, Kansas, died December 18, 2020
• Social Family Friend: James (Jim) Thomas Sweeney, 88, Derby, Kansas, died November 21, 2020

Odds, ends, remembrance

Monday & Tuesday, 12/12/2020 & 12/13/2020 - Photos that had been passed by

Birds

The photo shows some of our collection of frequent visitors to our feeders and heated watering pan.

Yard & Remembrance of Younger Brother

Back-lighting showed off some of the dusting of sparkly snow we had on the morning of the 13th. As I pondered the scene I remembered Younger Brother who would have marked his 79th birthday on the 13th.

Younger Brother, PhD, 1941-2012

Remembrance of a dinner long ago

In the 1960s when Younger Brother and his family were traveling through Kansas on their way back home in California from Rolla MO (where YB was finishing up one or another of his degrees), Hunky Husband and I took YB and his wife Barb to dinner at Lakeshore Club in Wichita. (Please recall/know that, in those days, the only way to have an alcoholic libation with dinner was to belong to a "private club" with a liquor license. There was no such thing as a "public" restaurant where one could enjoy a glass of wine or beer with one's meal. Kansas was a "dry" state.)

As always, YB ordered a plain hamburger - one without sauces or additions of any kind - while the rest of us ordered steak, or lobster, or whatever. YB and I got to kidding around about it and we both got the giggles so badly that HH and Barb threatened to leave us there. Whenever any two of us three siblings got together, there was bound to be much laughter between/among us. I miss those days with YB. I miss YB and Barb, who preceded him in death by 21 years. May they rest in peace.

Monday, 12/21/2020 - Saturnalia happenings

Plumbing

Jeremy showed up to do a little plumbing for us. Once I told him all of our woes, he recommended a new toilet for Hunky Husband's bathroom - one that had a larger gateway between the water tank and the toilet plus having a tank-internal air reservoir to add power to the water stream going into the bowl to flush down the contents. It sounded like such a good idea that I told him that we would go with that. Other than that, I asked him to rebuild the interiors of the other two toilet tanks - one in my bathroom, the other in the guest bathroom. Jeremy will call to arrange installation when the company receives the new toilet.

The first photo, below, shows the interior of one of the tanks before rebuild. The second shows the interior following rebuild. In between, Jeremy was gone for a bit over an hour in order to run into Wichita for parts (at the same supplier that I, myself, use). Exciting. Be still my beating heart!

Astronomy

As everyone knows, the closest conjuncture of Neptune Jupiter and Saturn (as seen from the Earth), expected for the next some-odd-hundreds of years, occurred, today. (Stu blogged about it, nicely.) I had HH run me out to a clear viewing area to observe the spectacle. Like my viewing of Halley's comet in the 1980s, for which I drove (alone) to an area near the Pueblo of Isleta in New Mexico, the idea was much greater than the view. Oh, well. I recall that HH thought I was nuts to rouse Bogie & Dudette from sleep early enough one morning in March, 1970, to view a comet; but, I've tried to view most of the earth-shaking celestial events during my lifetime - well, since I was age 3.5 in 1941, at least.

Ronni Bennett, 1941-2020

She will be missed by so many of us. I've called her "friend" since 2004.

Ronni Bennett, blogger extraordinaire 2004-2020

RIP RBG

In memory of Dot Miller

Over the past several years, I'd lost track of an old friend from Panama City FL. I met Dot when I moved to Florida to work on the Rapid Runway Repair Program at Tyndall AFB (now more well-known for having been devastated by Hurricane Michael in 2018) in April, 1981. She, with a BA in Math from Ohio State University, was a Civil Service employee who specialized in AICUZ (Air Installation Compatible Use Zone) determinations. Thirteen years my senior and the mother of seven children, Dot was a sister redhead and we fell into an immediate easy friendship. In fact, she mothered the whole workforce in my office - they being, other than me, young men. The photo, below, shows her and another friend, Corinne, at a picnic we had during my last spring in Florida (1983).

I transferred to Albuquerque NM in June 1983. In January, 1984, Dot was sent to the Kirtland Air Force Base to do some work, so she stopped in to see me (photo of Dot, below). She later was sent to McConnell AFB, just up the road a few miles from our house; but, I've no photos from that trip - in about 2000.

The last time I saw Dot was after we had retired from our respective companies. I had been in Kansas since 1990 and she had moved to Ohio just a few months before Hunky Husband and I saw her on our way to Bogie's home. (Born in 1925, Dot continued to work for USAF as a consultant until 2008.)

I found Dot's obituary, online, just minutes ago. She had died in 2015.

I'll remember Dot with a story that she sent me by email just a few weeks before I saw her - at which time we and HH toured the National Museum of the United States Air Force (again!) in October, 2004 - photo of Dot & me at that time, below.

I apologize for the yelling in the following; but, that's how Dot sent the story to me!

9/1/2004

Subject: A Funny Story  

GUARANTEED TO MAKE YOU SMILE.....   ESPECIALLY SINCE IT'S A TRUE STORY.

ON JULY 20, 1969, AS COMMANDER OF THE APOLLO 11 LUNAR MODULE, NEIL ARMSTRONG WAS THE FIRST PERSON TO SET FOOT ON THE MOON. HIS FIRST WORDS AFTER STEPPING ON THE MOON, "THAT'S ONE SMALL STEP FOR MAN, ONE GIANT LEAP FOR MANKIND," WERE TELEVISED TO EARTH AND HEARD BY MILLIONS. BUT JUST BEFORE HE RE-ENTERED THE LANDER, HE MADE THE ENIGMATIC REMARK "GOOD LUCK, MR. GORSKY."

MANY PEOPLE AT NASA THOUGH IT WAS A CASUAL REMARK CONCERNING SOME RIVAL SOVIET COSMONAUT. HOWEVER, UPON CHECKING, THERE WAS NO GORSKY IN EITHER THE RUSSIAN OR AMERICAN SPACE PROGRAMS.

OVER THE YEARS MANY PEOPLE QUESTIONED ARMSTRONG AS TO WHAT THE "GOOD LUCK, MR. GORSKY... STATEMENT MEANT, BUT ARMSTRONG ALWAYS JUST SMILED.

ON JULY 5, 1995, IN TAMPA BAY, FLORIDA, WHILE ANSWERING QUESTIONS FOLLOWING A SPEECH, A REPORTER BROUGHT UP THE 26-YEAR-OLD QUESTION TO ARMSTRONG. THIS TIME HE FINALLY RESPONDED. MR. GORSKY HAD DIED, SO NEIL ARMSTRONG FELT HE COULD ANSWER THE QUESTION.

IN 1938 WHEN HE WAS A KID IN A SMALL MIDWEST TOWN, HE WAS PLAYING BASEBALL WITH A FRIEND IN THE BACKYARD. HIS FRIEND HIT THE BALL, WHICH LANDED IN HIS NEIGHBOUR'S YARD BY THE BEDROOM WINDOWS. HIS NEIGHBOURS WERE MR. AND MRS. GORSKY.

AS HE LEANED DOWN TO PICK UP THE BALL, YOUNG ARMSTRONG HEARD MRS. GORSKY SHOUTING AT MR. GORSKY.

"SEX! YOU WANT SEX?! YOU'LL GET SEX WHEN THE KID NEXT DOOR WALKS ON THE MOON!"

RIP, Dot Miller, you were a good friend!

Ode to Bill Bloedel

Our generation (as all do) dwindles. Today's newspaper carries the obituaries of two more friends - one was a friend from the 1960s and on, the other a co-worker in the 1990s and early 2000s. They join three other friends whose deaths have occurred in the past three weeks.

The person who will be missed the most, whose funeral I attended Tuesday, was my supervisor in 1980 and 1981. Bill Bloedel was supervisor of loads and stress for the Cessna Single-Engine Division, and I was a group engineer whose group was responsible, structurally, for all taildragger, a few of the current-production models, and out-of-production single-engine aircraft.

Bill was a good and decent person who was kind enough to always let me know what he really thought. From the time he took over the loads and stress organization, without flinching, he let me know that he was not comfortable having a woman in a position of responsibility over a fleet of aircraft - and - that he would be watching me. I went a little bit out of my way to keep Bill informed as to what I had been doing, how I had been handling things (for instance, suggesting that he might like to go through the file of customer inquiries that I had handled during the preceding year), and how I was handling things (for instance, inviting him to accompany me once when I had to fly to a production line that was about 50 miles distant from the main production facilities). At the end of his first six months as my supervisor, Bill invited me into his office and announced, "I told you that I would be watching you - and I have been. I think that you do an excellent job."

When I opted to leave the company, Bill asked if he had caused me to choose to leave. Absolutely not! It was strictly a matter of having been sought by another company that wished to give me a lot more money. Then, drawing a raise slip out of his desk drawer, Bill told me (with a twinkle in his eyes), "Aren't you going to feel silly when I give you a $100 per week raise?" It was annual raise time, but the actual raise fell far short of that number, of course. We both laughed.

Bill lived in rural Derby. We frequently heard Bill speak of the work he did on his small farm. When he had triple by-pass surgery, it was a matter of days before he was back to chopping fire wood. Physically small (I'm guessing 5' 6" tall and, not more than 145#), Bill loved physical work and flying, in equal measure.

Bill was huge in heart. Bill and his wife, Sue, raised (in addition to their own three children) three children who had been produced by one of their daughters. The daughter was emotionally unable to raise the children. Oh! How Bill doted on all of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren!

The last time I saw Bill, at a bi-monthly retirees breakfast three weeks before his death, Bill was lamenting that his non-existent white cell count kept him from seeing his great-grandchildren as he would wish to do. As little germ factories, small kids can be deadly to a person who, as Bill was, is dealing with leukemia.

I'll miss that quiet, little-big man with the twinkly blue eyes. Rest in peace, Bill.

___________________________________

When Hunky Husband offered his condolences upon the loss of my friend Bill, I told him, "We've come to an age where it is either our friends who will be dying - or us."

Remembering Expert Seamstress

Expert Seamstress (ES) came into my life shortly after she pursuaded Elder Brother (EB) to walk her the block from a school function to her house and entreated him to kiss her goodbye. He was a nerdy, brainiac senior; she, a pretty, popular junior. From that night  he was "hooked". (As he told the family at the after-funeral luncheon, she reeled him "in like a mackerel". That was, after all, his first kiss and first "date".) Their first "real" date was a few weeks later when ES agreed to be EB's prom date.

ES plied me, the crafty little minx. During the summer, ES invited me to her house for an over-night stay (photo taken by her father is below - ES on the right). I really enjoyed her company and was flattered that she would wish to spend time with her boyfriend's nerdy younger sister.

ES continued the pursuit via letters after EB left for college that fall. At the end of his sophomore year, EB left school to earn the money that would allow them to marry, and marry they did in May 1956. In the summer of 1957, EB left ES to continue working in Kansas City MO while he resumed his studies. Thus it was that in the fall of 1957, EB, my Hunky Husband (then, fiance, who had transferred to our school a year earlier), and I were all classified as juniors at the same school. Below is a photo that I snapped of ES at a family gathering at our great-grandparents' home.

During the spring semester of 1958, ES was able to find employment in the vicinity of the school. HH and I married at the beginning of the semester and the four of us lived together. We never again lived together; but, I was able to see them on a regular basis for the seven years during which they lived in Santa Fe and I lived in Albuquerque. I was often pleasantly surprised to return from professional travels to find them (and their cat) staying at my house while EB attended meetings in Albuquerque.

Over the years, ES & EB and I saw more or less of one another; but, the abiding love that we felt for one another endured. ES was the "big sister" that I would otherwise not have had.

EB is lost without ES. They were two halves of a whole. Below is a photo taken of them at Wonderful GrandDaughter's wedding in May of 2005.

I was surprised that ES did not sit up in her coffin over the praying that took place at her funeral. EB and I had a chuckle over the situation. He had given the minister specific instructions that no implication was to be made that ES believed in any religion and that the service was to be held to no more than 10 or 15 minutes - without religious music! EB had arranged the funeral to comfort a branch of their family that is deeply religious.

 

A look back

Rain (of Rainy Day Thoughts) posted a nice article (Going back in time) about her high school class's 50th reunion that was held recently. In it she wrote as follows:

Overall, I felt the attendees were nice people with whom to spend an evening which was not a surprise as basically they were pretty nice people back in 1961 at least in my experience. I think high school can be a difficult time, but mine pretty well yielded typical experiences of dances, sporting events, clubs, and classes. (Three of our teachers attended the dinner). I have good memories from my high school years. The things that weren't so terrific were part of experiences where we don't just learn from the easy things but also the hard. Even though I was taking classes aimed at entering college, I think I was a bit shallow back then; but let's face it, teen years are bound to be a bit that way and maybe that's not bad as a part of growth.

My comment to her posting included the following:

You made me think about my own attitude toward the people with whom I shared studies so many years ago (I was graduated 5 years earlier than you.) Even the boys who made my life somewhat unpleasant in grade school and high school, have been given a "pass" by me. I now understand that they were "just" being young/adolescent/teen-aged boys. I hope that everyone has, by now, given me a "pass" for having been a young/adolescent/teen-aged girl!

Although I was graduated with the class of 1955, I had attended school for the previous 10 years with the class of 1956. Thus, several months ago, I was delighted to (for the first time) learn of a reunion being held by the class of 1956. I asked if I might attend (sending a check for two reservations with the request) and the class committee were kind enough to say yes. However, because of my Aunt V's death, I did not make it to the class of 1956's 55th reunion.

Non-attendance was my loss. I have reason to doubt that anyone who attended would have remembered me, anyway.

I am completely forgettable

Story 1: Other than seeing my closest friends from high school a couple of times during my freshman year at college, I have only run into one person from the class of 1956 in later years. (I had even attended a holiday ball while home from college during the end-of-year break in 1955; but, my date was from the class of 1957, so he would not have been at the reunion!) The one person into whom I had run was an eye-opener. We shall call him Mr B.

Mr B, as a kid (we shall call him Kid B), had been a really, really, really ornery kid all through grades 3 - 10. I have a remembrance (perhaps not a real memory, I'm hoping) of our 5th grade teacher becoming totally exasperated with him and clunking him on the head with a small rock paperweight that she kept on her desk. I also have vivid memory of walking home from school (about 20 blocks) one warm day with a handful of boys walking behind me and Kid B's having sneaked up behind me to goose me. Oh, the humiliation I felt!

Fast forward to the late 1970s. My mother is undergoing open-heart surgery, I have flown into Kansas City to lend support, and I am sitting in the waiting room while Mom is in surgery. I overhear three elderly women (probably not as old as I am now!) who have fallen into conversation. One is telling the other two women about the wonderful preacher from her church. She goes on at great length about how caring and devoted he is. She calls him Reverend B. Sitting there, I recall that Kid B's father was a Reverend B. However, when Reverend B shows up in the waiting room, it is obviously not Kid B's father - Reverend B is of my own generation!

When it is obvious that Reverend B has completed his conversation with his parishioner, I introduce myself to him. I tell him the name to which I was born. I ask if we did not attend school together at B elementary school and S high school. He did attend the schools during the specified years, but he has no memory of a girl by my name. I tell him that he has given me new hope for humanity - that if Kid B can become the man that Reverend B has become, there is still hope - that I would not have given a plugged nickel for his chances of becoming the man he has obviously become. He grins and says, "I was pretty ornery, wasn't I?"

Story 2: A few years before the encounter in Story 1, I was subjected to an oral exam to defend my thesis that was in partial fulfillment of requirements for an MS degree.

Again, fast forward - this time to the early 1990s. I am at a retail establishment in Wichita that specializes in science education items. I am browsing binoculars, hoping to find a replacement for a recently-stolen pair, when I run into one of the professors (younger than me) who had served on my orals committee. I introduce myself and remind him how we know one another. He doesn't have a clue who I am.

Story 3: Just recently, in reading a birding report posted by a person who, obviously, lives nearby and from whose name, I infer her to be married to another of the professors who served on my orals committee. I email her with a bit on local birding and ask that she extend my greetings to the professor (if she is, indeed, married to him) and to thank him for his courtesy during the oral exam. Although I had taken at least one class from the professor, his wife tells me that he has no remembrance of me.

Conclusions:

1) I am neither so smart nor so stupid as to be memorable.

2) I am neither so saintly nor so vile as to be memorable.

3) I am neither so beautiful nor so ugly as to be memorable.

4) Coupled with the fact that, during multiple attempts in the period 1959-2010, no one has ever been able to produce a "good" set of fingerprints off of my fingers, I conclude that I missed a perfect opportunity to have lived a life of high crime! Witnesses would not recall me and there would be no fingerprints left at the scenes.

How would your own life of crime have gone?

This posting wandered far from the path that was in my mind when I started writing it; but, what the heck? Maybe the original path will come to mind, again, later! *laughing*