I had never been to New Orleans, so a few months after I got out of the Army I decided to go there. I planned to visit a friend, Emma, who lived in Slidell, and see New Orleans at the same time.
One afternoon while waiting for Emma to get off work, I was relaxing on a bench in the main plaza of the French Quarter. A young boy came up to me and said, "Do you have any spare change, mister?" I just brushed him off.
There was an old homeless man sitting on the next bench who overheard this exchange. He said, "Come here, kid." He reached into the pocket of his ragged brown pants and gave the boy a couple of quarters.
I've never felt so small.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Drop Test
When I worked for Cisco, the prototypes for all new network switch designs had to go through Mechanical Design Verification Testing (MDVT). One part of this test required the switches to be dropped from various angles and from heights up to 1 meter. The switches had to continue passing traffic for the duration of the test.
I took four Catalyst 2900 prototypes to a small independent testing lab that had contracted with Cisco to do drop testing. I explained the setup to the woman in charge of the testing. I showed her how to connect each switch to a laptop, start and stop the test, and verify that the results had been recorded.
As I was about to leave, I turned to her and said in a very serious almost conspiratorial tone, "Remember these are prototypes so whatever you do, don't drop them."
She looked startled and said, "But that's what we do here!"
I took four Catalyst 2900 prototypes to a small independent testing lab that had contracted with Cisco to do drop testing. I explained the setup to the woman in charge of the testing. I showed her how to connect each switch to a laptop, start and stop the test, and verify that the results had been recorded.
As I was about to leave, I turned to her and said in a very serious almost conspiratorial tone, "Remember these are prototypes so whatever you do, don't drop them."
She looked startled and said, "But that's what we do here!"
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Catholic Landscaping
There used to be a Nob Hill market in Sunnyvale where the Sprouts market is now. My wife, Lan, and I used to go there at least once a week for the exceptional produce.
The trip to the market took us past a Catholic church on Old San Francisco Road. One morning we were going past the church when Lan said, "Dave, look at the small evergreen trees in front of that church. Someone has trimmed them so the top of each one looks just like the head of a dick!"
This was enormously amusing to us. We came up with new jokes almost every time we passed that church for the next few months.
"We better slow down, we're going past the Church of Saint Richard, the Dick".
"Let's have a moment of silence as we pass the Church of the Divine Dildos".
Lan had a friend who was in her early 60's, had never been married, and was a dedicated Catholic. She wasn't that religious, she just liked being a member of the Catholic club and enthusiastically embraced every ritual.
One afternoon she stopped by our house to visit. She and Lan decided to go to the Nob Hill Market after Lan described how much she liked the produce there. As they were passing the Catholic church, her friend crossed herself and said, "Look at the lovely trees in front of that Catholic church."
Lan started laughing so hard she had to pull over and stop the car. When she regained her composure, she explained why she was laughing so hard.
Her friend's face turn as red as a Cardinal's clown hat.
The trip to the market took us past a Catholic church on Old San Francisco Road. One morning we were going past the church when Lan said, "Dave, look at the small evergreen trees in front of that church. Someone has trimmed them so the top of each one looks just like the head of a dick!"
This was enormously amusing to us. We came up with new jokes almost every time we passed that church for the next few months.
"We better slow down, we're going past the Church of Saint Richard, the Dick".
"Let's have a moment of silence as we pass the Church of the Divine Dildos".
Lan had a friend who was in her early 60's, had never been married, and was a dedicated Catholic. She wasn't that religious, she just liked being a member of the Catholic club and enthusiastically embraced every ritual.
One afternoon she stopped by our house to visit. She and Lan decided to go to the Nob Hill Market after Lan described how much she liked the produce there. As they were passing the Catholic church, her friend crossed herself and said, "Look at the lovely trees in front of that Catholic church."
Lan started laughing so hard she had to pull over and stop the car. When she regained her composure, she explained why she was laughing so hard.
Her friend's face turn as red as a Cardinal's clown hat.
Church Analysis
Our daughter, Nhan, and her son, Steven, moved into our house after her divorce. It was a lot of fun having Steven in the house and we spent a lot of time together.
When he was about 6, his father came by one Sunday morning to take him to church. We take a very dim view of church, but finally made a deal. He could take Steven to church this once, but if he didn't like it, he would never have to go again.
When Steven came back, I asked him what he thought about church. He said, "It was pretty boring, Dave. It was just stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down, and then we had to pay."
It was the last time he ever went to church.
When he was about 6, his father came by one Sunday morning to take him to church. We take a very dim view of church, but finally made a deal. He could take Steven to church this once, but if he didn't like it, he would never have to go again.
When Steven came back, I asked him what he thought about church. He said, "It was pretty boring, Dave. It was just stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down, and then we had to pay."
It was the last time he ever went to church.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Parking Ticket Payback
When I was in college, two friends and I rented a small house in Lincoln Nebraska. It didn't have a garage or driveway so we had to park our cars on the street. The house next door had a 60 foot driveway with a garage in the back. In spite of this, the woman who lived there thought she had an inalienable right to park on the street in front of her house.
This woman was constantly coming over to complain whenever one of us had the temerity to park in front her house. Her parking harangues were a great source of amusement to us which didn't help the situation very much.
One day after Jim parked his Corvair in front of her house, she called the police. They wrote Jim a ticket for parking too close to her driveway. Apparently the city prohibited parking within 3 feet of a driveway and his car was only 2 feet away.
We decided that this called for payback. We discussed various options and finally came up with a plan. We decided that whenever one of us had a chance, we would park in front of her house. The gotcha was that we would park in such a way that there would be room for her to park as well, but if she did she would be too close to her own driveway.
We did this for more than 3 weeks before she finally took the bait. She parked in front of her house and in the process backed into Jim's car. We called the cops who wrote her a ticket for parking too close to her own driveway. She also had to buy a new $300 bumper for Jim's car.
Justice was served!
This woman was constantly coming over to complain whenever one of us had the temerity to park in front her house. Her parking harangues were a great source of amusement to us which didn't help the situation very much.
One day after Jim parked his Corvair in front of her house, she called the police. They wrote Jim a ticket for parking too close to her driveway. Apparently the city prohibited parking within 3 feet of a driveway and his car was only 2 feet away.
We decided that this called for payback. We discussed various options and finally came up with a plan. We decided that whenever one of us had a chance, we would park in front of her house. The gotcha was that we would park in such a way that there would be room for her to park as well, but if she did she would be too close to her own driveway.
We did this for more than 3 weeks before she finally took the bait. She parked in front of her house and in the process backed into Jim's car. We called the cops who wrote her a ticket for parking too close to her own driveway. She also had to buy a new $300 bumper for Jim's car.
Justice was served!
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
The Rumormonger
Gossip was a central part of many people's lives in the small Nebraska town where we lived. One day a woman came to our house to share some new gossip with my father, the minister.
My father waited until she finished and then said, "I happen to know that what you just told me is absolutely not true. Did you start this rumor?" She said, "Well no, I didn't."
"If you didn't start it, then who told it to you?"
"I really can't say."
My father then said, "If you won't tell me who told you this rumor, I'll assume you started it. I'll make sure the town knows that you're the one starting these rumors." She hemmed and hawed around and finally told him the name of the woman that told her the rumor.
My father then went to that woman and repeated the same line of questioning.
After about the 6th iteration of this process, he finally got to the woman who admitted starting the rumor. He told her he was going to make sure the town knew that she had started the malicious rumor and suggested it would be a good idea if she stopped doing it.
The gossip mill in town ground to a halt at least for a while. Everyone was afraid that if a rumor got to my father, he would track down the originator again.
My father was a terrific guy and I miss him.
My father waited until she finished and then said, "I happen to know that what you just told me is absolutely not true. Did you start this rumor?" She said, "Well no, I didn't."
"If you didn't start it, then who told it to you?"
"I really can't say."
My father then said, "If you won't tell me who told you this rumor, I'll assume you started it. I'll make sure the town knows that you're the one starting these rumors." She hemmed and hawed around and finally told him the name of the woman that told her the rumor.
My father then went to that woman and repeated the same line of questioning.
After about the 6th iteration of this process, he finally got to the woman who admitted starting the rumor. He told her he was going to make sure the town knew that she had started the malicious rumor and suggested it would be a good idea if she stopped doing it.
The gossip mill in town ground to a halt at least for a while. Everyone was afraid that if a rumor got to my father, he would track down the originator again.
My father was a terrific guy and I miss him.
Monday, September 28, 2015
Guard Duty
Stateside Army bases maintain the tradition of nightly guard duty even though there's nothing really to guard against. When I was at Ft. Riley Kansas, junior officers were assigned duty as Officer of the Guard on a brigade level rotation. I was about as junior as they come and it wasn't long before it was my turn to serve as Officer of the Guard.
The whole thing was something of a sham. Part of the process was to conduct an inspection of the soldiers who were assigned to guard duty. I was pretty relaxed about the whole thing, but one of the prospective soldiers fell below even MY low standards. He was sloppy, his rifle was dirty, and he had an attitude.
I went into the brigade headquarters to report that I was kicking this soldier off of guard duty. It would be the responsibility of his battalion to replace him. The Lt. Col commander of the soldier's battalion happened to be in the brigade headquarters at the time. He said, "You can't kick this soldier off of guard duty or he'll get an automatic Article 15 (the army equivalent of a misdemeanor)."
I said, "Sir, that's your rule, not mine." I turned to the Sargent of the Guard who had recently returned from Vietnam and said, "Sargent, will you please read the colonel this soldier's deficiencies?"
The sargent said, "Yes sir!", snapped to attention, took out his notes, and briskly read off the list of violations.
I turned to the colonel and said, "Sir, if you wish to take over for me as Officer of the Guard, you're welcome to have anyone in your guard duty that you wish, but as long as I'm Officer of the Guard, this soldier will not be in mine!" The colonel immediately backed down and mumbled that he would have the soldier replaced.
The story of the young 2nd Lieutenant who stood up to the Lt. Colonel quickly spread around the post and I became quite well-known.
The whole thing was something of a sham. Part of the process was to conduct an inspection of the soldiers who were assigned to guard duty. I was pretty relaxed about the whole thing, but one of the prospective soldiers fell below even MY low standards. He was sloppy, his rifle was dirty, and he had an attitude.
I went into the brigade headquarters to report that I was kicking this soldier off of guard duty. It would be the responsibility of his battalion to replace him. The Lt. Col commander of the soldier's battalion happened to be in the brigade headquarters at the time. He said, "You can't kick this soldier off of guard duty or he'll get an automatic Article 15 (the army equivalent of a misdemeanor)."
I said, "Sir, that's your rule, not mine." I turned to the Sargent of the Guard who had recently returned from Vietnam and said, "Sargent, will you please read the colonel this soldier's deficiencies?"
The sargent said, "Yes sir!", snapped to attention, took out his notes, and briskly read off the list of violations.
I turned to the colonel and said, "Sir, if you wish to take over for me as Officer of the Guard, you're welcome to have anyone in your guard duty that you wish, but as long as I'm Officer of the Guard, this soldier will not be in mine!" The colonel immediately backed down and mumbled that he would have the soldier replaced.
The story of the young 2nd Lieutenant who stood up to the Lt. Colonel quickly spread around the post and I became quite well-known.
The Inspection
My first job as a 2nd lieutenant in the Army was serving as the S2 for a mechanized artillery battalion. This battalion's primary mission was to be able to fire tactical nukes from track mounted 155mm Howitzers.
When I had my first meeting with the Lt. Col commander and he explained all this to me, I asked, "If the effective range of a 155mm Howitzer is about 9 miles, wouldn't you be committing suicide if you ever actually fired one of those nukes?" He said, "That was something we try not to think about."
Because this was a nuclear capable outfit, the battalion had quarterly inspections from the Dept of Defense. The colonel explained that his battalion had never passed one of these inspections in the year and a half that he had been the commander. He said, "We have so much turnover that we can never keep the training records up to date and the training records are the main thing they check." He also pointed out that as battalion S2, the training records were my responsibility.
The next DOD inspection was scheduled in less than 3 weeks so I got my guys together to come up with a plan.
The night before the inspection, we spread the personnel records for the whole battalion along the hall in the headquarters. We then went through each one and forged any training records that were missing. By 3am we had the entire battalion in training compliance.
The next day the battalion passed the DOD inspection with flying colors and I was IN with the colonel.
The whole episode raised a couple of interesting questions. If this was such an important inspection, why was it so easy to pass by forging training records? Also, why was I the first person to figure this out?
When I had my first meeting with the Lt. Col commander and he explained all this to me, I asked, "If the effective range of a 155mm Howitzer is about 9 miles, wouldn't you be committing suicide if you ever actually fired one of those nukes?" He said, "That was something we try not to think about."
Because this was a nuclear capable outfit, the battalion had quarterly inspections from the Dept of Defense. The colonel explained that his battalion had never passed one of these inspections in the year and a half that he had been the commander. He said, "We have so much turnover that we can never keep the training records up to date and the training records are the main thing they check." He also pointed out that as battalion S2, the training records were my responsibility.
The next DOD inspection was scheduled in less than 3 weeks so I got my guys together to come up with a plan.
The night before the inspection, we spread the personnel records for the whole battalion along the hall in the headquarters. We then went through each one and forged any training records that were missing. By 3am we had the entire battalion in training compliance.
The next day the battalion passed the DOD inspection with flying colors and I was IN with the colonel.
The whole episode raised a couple of interesting questions. If this was such an important inspection, why was it so easy to pass by forging training records? Also, why was I the first person to figure this out?
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Savings Bonds
When I was in the Army I was under constant pressure to have savings bonds deducted from my pay. Commanders were partially rated on how many in their command participated in the savings bond deduction program.
Shortly after I reported to Ft. Riley Kansas as a new 2nd Lieutenant, I was called into my Battalion Commander's office. He informed me that his battalion had a 98% participation rate in the savings bond deduction program. Apparently I was one of only a few who hadn't signed up.
I said, "Sir, if they couldn't get me to sign up in Basic Training, Advanced Training, or Officers Candidate School, what makes you think YOU can get me to sign up?"
He said, "All right then, I'll make you the new Savings Bond officer". This meant filling out and filing some annoying monthly reports on battalion participation rates. I'm sure he thought he was making the punishment fit the crime.
Armed with this new responsibility, I went to see the Battalion S1 (Army HR) clerk. I asked, "What do you have to do to have the Army stop deducting savings bonds from your pay?" He gave me a sideways glance and said, "You have to fill out a form and submit it to your commanding officer."
He pulled one of the forms out of his desk and showed it to me. I said, "I'd like to have copies of those forms along with instructions on filling them out distributed to all the enlisted men in the barracks. Could you help me with this?"
The clerk sat up straight, gave me a conspiratorial smile, and said, "Consider it done, sir!"
The next month when I filled out the savings bond report, the battalion participation rate had dropped from 98% to 80%.
Shortly after I reported to Ft. Riley Kansas as a new 2nd Lieutenant, I was called into my Battalion Commander's office. He informed me that his battalion had a 98% participation rate in the savings bond deduction program. Apparently I was one of only a few who hadn't signed up.
I said, "Sir, if they couldn't get me to sign up in Basic Training, Advanced Training, or Officers Candidate School, what makes you think YOU can get me to sign up?"
He said, "All right then, I'll make you the new Savings Bond officer". This meant filling out and filing some annoying monthly reports on battalion participation rates. I'm sure he thought he was making the punishment fit the crime.
Armed with this new responsibility, I went to see the Battalion S1 (Army HR) clerk. I asked, "What do you have to do to have the Army stop deducting savings bonds from your pay?" He gave me a sideways glance and said, "You have to fill out a form and submit it to your commanding officer."
He pulled one of the forms out of his desk and showed it to me. I said, "I'd like to have copies of those forms along with instructions on filling them out distributed to all the enlisted men in the barracks. Could you help me with this?"
The clerk sat up straight, gave me a conspiratorial smile, and said, "Consider it done, sir!"
The next month when I filled out the savings bond report, the battalion participation rate had dropped from 98% to 80%.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
The Train Stoppers
My girlfriend and I were cruising around one Friday night when we happened to go through Hampton NE, population 450. There was a bar right off of N. 3rd St that looked interesting so we stopped in.
The place was packed and everyone seemed to be having a good time. After we found a place to sit down, the waitress came by and asked if she could get us a couple glasses of water. We didn't really want to just sit there and drink water, but she was really persistent so we said, "Sure, why not."
She brought us two nearly full water glasses and then stood back to watch. When we finally got around to taking a sip of water, we discovered that the glasses were filled with Vodka! Evidently the whole bar was in on the joke because it brought down the house.
We got to talking with the people there and I said, "It looks like you're having a party here. What are you celebrating tonight besides the water glass joke?" They said, "You're right, we ARE celebrating. We're celebrating our victory over the Burlington Northern Railroad."
At that time, Burlington Northern was running mile long coal trains right through town once a day. They were carrying coal from the mines in Wyoming to the steel mills and power plants around Chicago. They were so heavy that you could feel the ground shake blocks away as the trains went through.
One afternoon a local farmer was pulling a hay wagon from one field on one side of the tracks to another field on the other side of the tracks. Rather than going all the way around to a grade crossing, he just went straight across the tracks to the other side. As the wagon was crossing the tracks, he happened to looked back and saw the signal lights for the trains turn red in both directions. He guessed that the steel frame of the hay wagon had made contact with both rails.
Once across the tracks, he tested this theory. He took a crowbar out of the tool box on the tractor, went back to the tracks, and laid the crowbar across both rails. The lights turned red in both directions. When he removed the crowbar, the lights turned green. Apparently there was a small current running through the rails. This was some kind of safety feature to stop trains if a vehicle was stuck on the tracks and completed the circuit.
That evening at the weekly meeting of the Hampton Volunteer Fire Dept, he shared his discovery. A couple of hours and a couple of six packs later a plan was hatched to stop the coal train.
The next afternoon Herman went about a mile east of town with a crowbar and his CB radio. Fred went about a mile west of town with his CB radio. When Fred saw the train coming, he radioed Herman who laid his crowbar across the tracks.
When the train finally stopped, it was right in the middle of town blocking N. 3rd St. Once it was completely stopped, the rest of the Volunteer Fire Dept climbed into the fire engne, cranked up the siren, and roared up to the grade crossing blocked by the train.
The law states that when a train is stopped and blocking a crossing, the railroad has to break the train to let an emergency vehicle through. The guy in the caboose had to jog almost a half mile to uncouple the train to let the fire engine through.
Once past the crossing, the guys in the fire engine radioed Herman to go ahead and lift the crowbar while they bombed around in the country for a while.
It was a small victory over Burlington Northern, but one the town felt merited a celebration. The water glasses filled with vodka were a bonus.
The place was packed and everyone seemed to be having a good time. After we found a place to sit down, the waitress came by and asked if she could get us a couple glasses of water. We didn't really want to just sit there and drink water, but she was really persistent so we said, "Sure, why not."
She brought us two nearly full water glasses and then stood back to watch. When we finally got around to taking a sip of water, we discovered that the glasses were filled with Vodka! Evidently the whole bar was in on the joke because it brought down the house.
We got to talking with the people there and I said, "It looks like you're having a party here. What are you celebrating tonight besides the water glass joke?" They said, "You're right, we ARE celebrating. We're celebrating our victory over the Burlington Northern Railroad."
At that time, Burlington Northern was running mile long coal trains right through town once a day. They were carrying coal from the mines in Wyoming to the steel mills and power plants around Chicago. They were so heavy that you could feel the ground shake blocks away as the trains went through.
One afternoon a local farmer was pulling a hay wagon from one field on one side of the tracks to another field on the other side of the tracks. Rather than going all the way around to a grade crossing, he just went straight across the tracks to the other side. As the wagon was crossing the tracks, he happened to looked back and saw the signal lights for the trains turn red in both directions. He guessed that the steel frame of the hay wagon had made contact with both rails.
Once across the tracks, he tested this theory. He took a crowbar out of the tool box on the tractor, went back to the tracks, and laid the crowbar across both rails. The lights turned red in both directions. When he removed the crowbar, the lights turned green. Apparently there was a small current running through the rails. This was some kind of safety feature to stop trains if a vehicle was stuck on the tracks and completed the circuit.
That evening at the weekly meeting of the Hampton Volunteer Fire Dept, he shared his discovery. A couple of hours and a couple of six packs later a plan was hatched to stop the coal train.
The next afternoon Herman went about a mile east of town with a crowbar and his CB radio. Fred went about a mile west of town with his CB radio. When Fred saw the train coming, he radioed Herman who laid his crowbar across the tracks.
When the train finally stopped, it was right in the middle of town blocking N. 3rd St. Once it was completely stopped, the rest of the Volunteer Fire Dept climbed into the fire engne, cranked up the siren, and roared up to the grade crossing blocked by the train.
The law states that when a train is stopped and blocking a crossing, the railroad has to break the train to let an emergency vehicle through. The guy in the caboose had to jog almost a half mile to uncouple the train to let the fire engine through.
Once past the crossing, the guys in the fire engine radioed Herman to go ahead and lift the crowbar while they bombed around in the country for a while.
It was a small victory over Burlington Northern, but one the town felt merited a celebration. The water glasses filled with vodka were a bonus.
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