Management

After I completed Officers Candidate School, I was commissioned as an intelligence officer in the Army. Serving as a lieutenant was the only time I've ever had a job that qualified as a management position.

In Vietnam, I worked in the top secret area of the Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV). It was a mini-Pentagon that had the command structure of all branches in one place. My group generated background intelligence summaries on Cambodia and Laos to support the real-time briefings.

The six sharp guys that made up my team did some really good work. Whenever a general or colonel came down to thank me for something we'd done, I always deferred to those who did the work. I would say something like, "Jim and Evan did the heavy lifting on that, they're the ones you should talk to." I gave the credit to my team when things went right and took full responsibility if there was any kind of problem.

The Army has a well-know saying, "Shit rolls down hill." This refers to the standard practice of passing the blame on to those below you when things go wrong.

I had a special name plate made for my desk at MACV. Below my name it read, "Shit rolls down hill until it gets to me."

Recycled Coffee

I pulled my truck into a gritty industrial area of Chicago one morning to deliver a load from California. It was 5am when I got there and the warehouse didn't open until 6am.

The old gray building across the street had a small cafe in one corner with a faded sign on its dingy window that read "Coffee Shop". I went in and sat at the counter under a fluorescent light that was flickering and buzzing its death throes.

Four people were scattered around at separate tables, hunched over their coffee. Near me at the counter was a gnarly old guy wearing dirty bib overalls and a faded striped engineers cap. The whole place had an eerie colorless look that would have fit right into a Stephen King novel.

The middle-aged waitress with a jaded, almost surly demeanor, asked me what I wanted. I said, "Just coffee, please."

She poured me a cup of coffee from the pot behind the counter and put the grimy cup in front of me. While I was deciding whether or not to drink out of it, the old guy next to me got up and left.

The waitress came over, picked up his half-empty cup, and poured what was left into the same pot that my coffee had come from.

I decided I could do without coffee that morning.

Straight Line

When I was 5 years old, we lived in Dillon Montana. One morning I woke up to find a blanket of new snow covering our yard. As soon as I finished breakfast, I put on my Montana gear and went outside to play.

After I had been outside for about an hour, my mother came out to check on me. I guess I must have looked frustrated because she asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm trying to make a straight line in the snow. I keep putting one foot in front of the other, but my line keeps getting crooked."

"If you want to make a straight line, then don't look down at your feet. Look at something like that tree over there and walk toward it."

She was right. Much to my amazement, I created a line in the snow that went straight to the tree. I don't remember much from when I was 5 years old, but I remember that lesson very clearly.

The Crossroads

I made a point of avoiding main roads when traveling on my Triumph. Early one morning, I came to a crossroads while riding through rural North Carolina. I pulled off the road and stopped to consider which of the choices to take.

I hadn't been there long when a farmer and his wife came by in their pickup. They stopped beside me and the farmer's wife asked, "Do you need any help?" I said, "No thanks, I'm just sitting here enjoying the sunrise and trying to decide which way to go."

Her face took on a wistful look and then she said, "I'm sure you'll enjoy whichever road you choose."

Flying Hill

My wife, Lan, loves to play blackjack. When we first started going to Reno, she had yet to learn how to count cards and would usually play until the money she brought with her was gone. She often ended up in marathon sessions with very little sleep.

On our way home from one of these Reno trips, Lan was really tired and spent most of the time sleeping in the car. She happened to wake up just as we started up the Altamont pass towards Livermore. It was a windy afternoon and almost all of the turbines on the huge Altamont wind farm were spinning furiously.

She looked out the window for a minute and then said, "I don't care how many airplane engines they put on that hill, it isn't going to fly."

Wedding Vows

When Lan and I decided to get married, we opted to keep it simple and cheap. After our blood test results came back, we went to the court house and paid $5 for our license.

Once we had our license, we waited upstairs in the judge's antechamber for him to perform our marriage ceremony.  He came out about 4:30pm and said, "I have to listen to losers and their lawyers all day, so I like to perform a few marriages before I go home. It puts me in a much better mood."

When the judge got to the part where he asked Lan to say I do, she started to laugh. As we were leaving the court house I asked her why she laughed when the judge asked her to say I do. She said, "The judge asked if I do, but I did already."

In Vietnamese, du translates to fuck.

The Rainbow

I was headed east on Interstate 40 in Arizona just before sunset. A huge thunderstorm was gathering strength in front of me, and behind me the sun was about to dip below the horizon.

The setting sun was bouncing gorgeous shades of gold off the rocky cliffs that lined both sides of the the highway. Suddenly, a vivid, full spectrum rainbow appeared painted against the black eastern sky. Its ends seemed to be anchored in the illuminated cliffs.

I pulled off the freeway to stop and take it all in. Within minutes, cars were stopping on both sides of the freeway. People got out of their cars to take pictures, show their kids, and just marvel at the spectacle.

It was the Arizona desert at its most magnificent!

New Years Eve

About half-way through Officers Candidate School I received a 2 week pass for the Christmas holiday. I took a Trailways bus back to Nebraska and spent Christmas with my parents in Aurora. On Dec 29 I boarded the bus for the 3 day trip back to Ft. Belvoir, Va.

Angela got on at the Chicago stop and sat down next to me. She was returning to Washington D.C. after spending Christmas with her sister. Angela was an attractive young woman with a great sense of humor and a quick wit. We had a lot of fun traveling together.

We were crossing Pennsylvania on December 31st when we realized that it was almost midnight. Most people traveling by bus on New Years Eve are not among those who have been dealt the high cards in life. Angela and I decided that the new year should be celebrated even if we were only passengers on a bus.

At the stroke of midnight, we went up to the front of the bus and wished everyone a happy new year. I kissed Angela and then we started down the aisle.

She kissed every guy traveling alone and wished each one a happy new year. I did the same for each of the women traveling alone. The handful of couples traveling together kissed and wished each other a happy new year.

By the time we got to the back of the bus, everyone was laughing and exchanging new years greetings. Bottles of booze mysteriously appeared and were passed around along with all sorts of cookies and chips.

Somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, 40 strangers became 40 friends celebrating the new year together.

 

Book Covers

When I was in high school I was an avid reader of Mad magazine. One month Mad included tear-out book covers with seemingly sensational titles to cover otherwise boring books.

One of the fake covers had "Sex and Love" in large text and in tiny text at the bottom it read, "and 10,000 other words are included in this abridged dictionary." Another book cover had "Lolita" in huge text with a picture of an attractive young girl below it. At the bottom in tiny text it read, "is not the title of this boring book."

I applied "Sex and Love" to a copy of "King Lear" and "Lolita" to a copy of "A Tale of Two Cities". The next day I took both books to school with diabolical intentions in mind.

When I went to my study hall class, I  sat down in front. The teacher, Mrs. Eckland, was also the Home Economics teacher and a well-known guardian of student morals. I gave her a few minutes to get settled and then I picked up "Sex and Love". She looked over at me, stormed over to my desk, and grabbed the book.

She barely had time to get settled in her chair again when I popped up "Lolita". She came unglued! She marched over to my desk and grabbed "Lolita" out of my hands. She went back to her desk, picked up "Sex and Love",  and took the books and me to the principal's office.

Here she launched into a shrill rant about what a horrible degenerate I was reading such filth right there in the classroom. When she finally calmed down a bit, I picked up "Sex and Love",  turned to the title page, and pointed out that the book was actually "King Lear".  I then showed that "Lolita" was actually "A Tale of Two Cities".

I said, "I realize that King Lear is a bit controversial in some circles and A Tale of Two Cities is just plain depressing, but I don't think reading either of them merits this level of opprobrium. As a matter of fact, in English class last year, both of these books were required reading."

I turned to Mrs. Eckland and said, "I think there's a lesson we can all learn from this. Perhaps it's true that we shouldn't judge a book by its cover."

The principal, Mr. Frerichs, said, "Mrs. Eckland, why don't you go back to your class and I'll take care of this." When she was safely out of earshot, he shut the door and burst out laughing! He said, "Dave, as principal I should be telling you that you shouldn't do things like that. It's disruptive to the class etc, etc, but I have to admit it was pretty damn funny!"

Bikers and Blue-hairs

1976 was our country's bicentennial so I decided to attend the summer long celebration in Washington D.C. I quit my job, put together a minimalist pack, and headed out of Omaha on my Triumph.

I was going through Cincinnati when I saw a British motorcycle shop. I decided to stop in and get some chain lube. While there, I got to talking with some of the guys who were hanging around. It turned out they were planning to make a trip to Bowling Green, KY the next morning to attend the National Motorcycle Drags. Their small group of British bikes was going to make the trip together with a large Cincinnati Harley group. They invited me to join them and I accepted.

All together there were about 40 bikes. The Triumphs, BSAs, and Nortons were all clean, well-maintained performance bikes. The Harley group included everything from high dollar choppers to oil leaking rat-bikes. They also had an old school bus that was driven by the wife of one of the Harley riders. It brought up the rear of the convoy and was there to deal with breakdowns.

These guys had obviously done this sort of thing before. I've seen military convoys that weren't this organized. Everyone kicked in $40 before leaving to cover tolls and gas. Any money left over was earmarked for beer when we got to Bowling Green.

You can imagine the chaos that would ensue if 40 bikes each had to stop at a toll booth and fish for change. The leader of the Harley group went through the toll booth first, counted the bikes through with the toll taker, and then paid all the tolls at one time. It was a brilliant solution.

When we stopped for gas a similar approach was used. You couldn't have each of 40 bikes put in 1 or 2 gallons of gas, go inside, pay, and then pull out. The gas station would be jammed up for an hour. Instead, all the bikes lined up at one pump, filled up, and then pulled out into the parking area to wait. When the last bike filled up, the Harley group leader went inside and paid for all the bikes.

At one gas stop, two well dressed, blue-haired old ladies walked out of the gas station to their Oldsmobile just as the bikes started filling up the parking area. Soon they were surrounded by motorcycles of all types. What happened next was truly amazing. The old ladies started walking around the growing collection of bikes, talking with the riders, and asking questions. It was almost like a couple of grandmothers had happened to run into their grandchildren at a gas station.

I marveled at the stereotypes that were being shattered.