RIP Flo

Flo in happier times

My Saturday afternoon was interrupted by a call I first thought was a telemarketer, and now really wish it had been. Instead, it was the manager of the storage facility where I have most of what’s left of my life put away for now. Not a huge thing, less than half the normal size, but packed full of memories and the few things I’ve been able to hold onto these last few years. Including my books.

One of those things was Flo, officially named “Flowing in the Wind” by Phigmuth (also spelled Fhighmuth), a five-and-a-half-foot tall bronze statue that came into my life via 9-11. I used to have a small art collection, mostly paintings, but also three bronzes that came out of my first visit to NYC after 9-11.

Let’s just say that New York was not itself in those early days. Among other things, everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop. As a member of NYPD put it while we were out on the river checking some things out, including a possible dead body, “Take a look at it while it’s still here!” The “it” in this case was the Statue of Liberty, which he made sure I and the crew got a good look at, just in case.

It wasn’t just the tourists not crowding around, as the natives had a tendency to do what was needed and get home as well. It was almost like I had the streets to myself (at least compared to normal) as I wandered around between meetings and such. Walking around after one such meeting, which had taken me from various points south and much closer to Central Park, I spotted a place who’s name I actually recognized, and as they were open, I decided to go in and browse the art.

I was all but tackled in welcome, and actually did finally whip around holding my hands up in a cross and hissing like Dracula at them as they hovered over me. We talked a bit, and they explained that I was the first major customer that had had come in since 9-11. My immediate response was to ask what made them think I was a major customer?

“You are in here!”

As a NASA contractor, I wasn’t exactly rich or even well off. That said, I saw and fell in love with Flo. Problem was, there were many other items and if I had been rich I could have made out like a bandit on bronzes, paintings, and more. On my more modest means, I ended up being made an offer I couldn’t refuse. I got a nice price on Flo, and they essentially threw in two other small bronzes (a statue and a lamp). According to them, it was their first sale since 9-11. Over the years and ups and downs, the other two left but I have managed to hold on to Flo no matter what.

Until Saturday. Despite video and alarms, a crew got into the fenced storage site, inside a building, and hit around 13 units. From what I was hearing, they didn’t dig in deep, but just took one or two things from each unit from near the front. In my case they dug a bit, but that was because I had two empty gun cases in there that they must have thought were the motherload. One day soon will need to get some boxes, bags, and tape and go down and clean up.

I found some of my stuff in the mostly vacant unit next door, where they had pulled out enough stuff to get Flo’s crate open and her out. Sort of suspect they may have used it for some other units too. It was the bedspread that had been in the crate as padding that caused me (and the uniform taking my report) to look into that unit. An empty storage tote of mine makes me think they got some other stuff, but I don’t have a clue what it is or could be. Stupid lightning.

My first thought was to reach out to various contacts to spread the word of my loss, and to see if anyone might have any idea of someone who might possibly hear of artwork on the market (your friendly local Fence). That appears to be a dwindling occupation, as I learned that often bronzes and such are often chosen because they can be quickly sold with few questions to metal recyclers. A 200 pound statue gets not nearly the money it’s worth as an artwork, but more than enough to make a smash-and-grab profitable.

From what I was hearing yesterday, Flo is probably already broken up and sold. Possibly before I even got down to the unit. Recyclers who don’t ask questions (and also often buy catalytic converter cores without proper paperwork) also have a tendency to crush/cut/etc. to get rid of evidence as quickly as possible I hear. So, despite the quick response by Greenwood PD, odds are I will not be reunited with Flo barring a bit of a miracle.

I’m having a hard time praying nicely for the thieves, as the nasty part of me both wishes they had tipped over the stack of very heavy crates onto themselves when going for the gun cases, and that poetic justice pays them a visit. An old part of me wouldn’t mind witnessing, or even assisting, that poetic operation. The rest of me remembers I’m old, don’t get around well, and am a nice wolf now.

Flo at Christmas

Besides, Flo herself epitomized the freedom of letting go, casting aside your fears, and making the most of the moment that is now. For all that my now has brought back some of the absolute horror that was 9-11 and the aftermath, it has also brought back the memories of how she came into my life, of the beauty, resilience, and even niceness that peeked through New York in those days. And of the moments where her beauty enriched my days, and often made me smile. A few small long-term memories restored is a nice thing, though I wish circumstances were different. Remember kids: getting hit by lightning sucks. Don’t do that.

Yes, I can get a cheaper casting but it won’t be the same. The casting I lucked into would never have been mine under other circumstances, given the normal price. And, yes, quality matters. If things ever work out where I could find a casting of the same quality, I would have to think about it. If there is a small miracle, and she finds her way home, I will be beyond delighted. She also won’t go back into storage, as I will find a way to get her into my room.

Even if I can’t move to the SW yet, need to find some place to call my own. Some place I can have my books out, hang what little art I have left, and get the other bits of beauty and the past out of storage. If you are the praying kind, please ask that I be shown what I should do and where I should go. Thanks.

Getting hit by lightning is not fun! If you would like to help me in my recovery efforts, which include moving to the SW, feel free to hit the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo, use the options in the Tip Jar in the upper right, or drop me a line to discuss other methods. It is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.

Jimmy Carter: A Prayer

Normally, if I can’t say anything good about a person, I try to just keep silent. As it is, I can actually say something good about Jimmy, the feckless peanut, though not as much as I might want.

Just as the shades of Pierce, (A) Johnson, and Arthur could look at Jimmy in thanks for taking on the mantle of worst President, Jimmy can look gratefully at Dementia Joe and the Biden Regency for taking that mantle for the next 100 years (I hope we get no one worse before then).

I was born and raised in Georgia, and very briefly was involved with Carter’s campaign while still in high school. I plead the folly of youth and ignorance, and came fairly quickly to embrace my friend Strawberry’s take of ‘We decided to share the joke that was Jimmy with the world. We had no idea you bastards would take it seriously.’

The man did more damage to our military than the enemy, at least up until Obama and now the Biden Regency took up that torch. What he did to intelligence still tends to make me drop into ‘salty language’ to be polite. The damage there was even more enormous. I’m not even going to get into national malaise and all the other joys of his administration. When you add in the fact that he is a rather vile and loathsome anti-semite who still misses no chance to hurt Israel, you sorta get the picture. Indeed, the joke is the elaborate state funeral he planned (and he has) is to take place in Gaza.

Thing is, if not for Gimme, we might not have had the Reagan Restoration as it happened. In many respects, he is responsible for Boss winning and winning big, elections and more.

Where I can give him some respect and praise is in his actions as an ex-President and his work with charity. His work with Habitat for Humanity and other good works set a bar that most haven’t even tried to meet. Too much of our political class is there for the photo op, to talk, take a cut, and to let others do the work. Jimmy waded in with hammer, saw, and did real work rather that the posturing so common today. Yes, he raised money and awareness, but genuinely seemed to enjoy the labor that went with it.

Here and overseas, he made a real difference. He got his hands not just dirty, but all of him and seemed to enjoy it very much. I have to respect that, and am glad it gives me something good to say about him as his time here grows short. As I hope others will do for me one day, I will pray for God to forgive him his sins and any other transgressions, I will pray for his soul, and I will give thanks that the charities involved will hopefully go on and continue to do good in the world. May his passing be peaceful and may God’s mercy be on all he leaves behind.

Prayer Request

Sadly, I learned this morning from the wonderful Chris Muir at DayByDay that Gerard Van Der Leun is in hospice. I ask you for prayers for him, for Neo, and all the others in his life — including his readers.

To the best of my memory, I never got to meet him in person. I remember how welcoming he was to people in the early days of the blogosphere. He encouraged, prodded, and yes poked the rest of us. The blogosphere benefitted from him, and the world is the richer for all he did as a writer and beyond.

For me, I ask God for mercy on him; for care, comfort, and guidance to those who care for him in the days to come; and, mercy and comfort to those he is about to leave behind. Godspeed Gerard! You did good and left a mark few can equal.

Into The Light: Robert Clary

While known to many as Cpl. Lebeau on Hogan’s Heroes, Robert Clary was a multi-talented entertainer. He was also the only survivor in his family of the Holocaust, with his parents and 14 siblings dying in the camps. His life ended yesterday at 96 years of age, but his story will live on for the ages because of his efforts to share his story and bear witness to what he saw in the camps. Read a bit more a bout him and the untold story of Hogan’s Heroes. Godspeed.

Into The Light: Denny Wilson

Bleep. When he made it home, I had hoped he was on the mend. Sadly, it was not to be. Denny (Dennis) Wilson, aka the Grouchy Old Cripple, was one of the early bloggers and he stayed with it until the end.

His “Asshole of the Week” and “Saturday Boobage” posts on Saturday could overshadow his musical posts on Sunday in some ways, but the latter presented an amazing array of talent and musical ability that always entertained and usually had me in awe of the musicians. He had a way with words and his posts were indeed entertaining.

At a blogger meetup in Atlanta, he was, I think, amused at how fast everyone said he was picking the wine to go with the dinner. Not that bloggers were or are ever a cantankerous bunch who rarely agreed on anything… Fact was, Denny was a member of the Sommelier Guild of Atlanta (hobby, after the Navy he worked with computers at IBM) and his choices weren’t just good but amazing.

Godspeed! You are missed already.

Into The Light: Sunny Cone

This weekend, my friend and brother from another mother, John Leonard (Sunny) Cone, Jr. passed away. For all that I had hoped there would be more time, it was not unexpected. Sunny knew his time was likely short, but swore those that knew to secrecy as he didn’t want people to worry.

That, and a dedication to helping his friends, were Sunny in a nutshell. We first met in kindergarten, then came together again in grade school and high school. He was everything this introvert was not: outgoing, sociable, mischievous, with a ready wit. Even then, he looked after his friends and those he “adopted” for lack of a better word. He was a preacher’s son, but his wild was tempered and any shenanigans he or any of us together may have gotten up to were never harmful.

To this day I still laugh every time I think about him serenading our 8th grade biology teacher (and the class) with the tune ‘I believe in sphericals’ sung to the tune of “I believe in miracles (you sexy thing you).” His humor, and he himself, were delightfully irrepressible. At least to us, his classmates. I’m not prepared to swear the teachers always agreed with that.

He also never hesitated to, metaphorically at least, kick our ass if he felt we needed it. Get up, get going, the future is up to you and glorious if you move, move, move. Pretty good about taking it too, when needed.

Life put us on different paths, but brought us back together every now and then. In recent times, we both had some changes in fortune and health. Sunny, sadly, lost his first wife unexpectedly. He was then blessed to meet Monica and marry her, and she was by his side high or low until the end. Like me, he had some memory issues though his were caused by some falls. He had other things crop up, and we encouraged each other and did what we could for each other.

Typical Sunny, even as things were grim he was looking for ways not just to get back on his feet, but to help take others along as well. He thought he had an angle I could do even with my memory issues. Sadly, it was not to be as he recently took a turn for the worse then passed. There will be a celebration of life in November, and I’m going to do what I can to be there. Meantime, one of his college friends has started a GoFundMe to help Monica with medical and other expenses.

Godspeed my friend. May God wrap you in his light and love brother. May your light and love join with his and shine down on Monica and those you leave behind.

I would end by saying ‘until Valhalla’ but if I did, Sunny would find a way to greet me on the other side wearing a cheesy Viking horn hat playing a kazoo instead of blowing a horn. Guaranteed.

An Era Ends

The Queen is Dead! God Save The Queen.

For all that I am glad I don’t live under any monarchy, I liked Queen Elizabeth II; I admired a number of aspects about her; and, I respected even more. She was a better friend to the U.S. than many may ever know or realize. From all accounts she would be the first to admit she wasn’t perfect, but she set a standard few can measure up to.

For me, you gotta love that as a teenager facing the Blitz, she learned to shoot Winston Churchill’s tommy gun; reportedly received rather extensive weapons training as both she and her father said no to leaving in the face of invasion (rumor has it the initial response was rather pithy, and the public statement was a bit more diplomatic but also blunt). In addition, she learned car repair/mechanics and drove an ambulance during the blitz. When not driving, she worked on said ambulances. Fearless is one of the descriptors used in regards her driving, again rumor suggests a few others were applied as well. She reportedly retained a keen interest in both the military and intelligence throughout her life, possibly to the dismay of certain prime ministers. She also had a quick way with people who, er, got on her bad side. Personally driving the Saudi monarch around on a tour after that gentleman had made some comments in public about women drivers was just one of them. There is more I could say, but for now, I will simply say:

God Bless Queen Elizabeth II! May God have mercy on the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth, and all those who morn her passing. We will not see her like again anytime soon.

Into The Light: Mikhail Gorbachev

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. For those in the West, we were indeed not only in a good time, but heading into a golden age in many respects. For those not in the West, particularly behind the Iron Curtain, the times truly sucked on a scale that few today can conceive. That so many now look back on the time with nostalgia says something about how fucked up things are today…

I noted yesterday that I have mixed emotions on the passing of Gorbachev. That is being polite. The man was the enemy, on more than one level. Yet, I have come to have respect for the man, for reasons and because Boss had respect for him.

It was that respect, along with understanding, that allowed Reagan to run the board. To use information from a number of sources, including Agent Farewell, to put Gorbachev into a position where he had no choice to but to bow to the inevitable. Make no mistake: the man fought long and hard to keep the CCCP going, and remained a Leninist, if not a Marxist, to his dying day. He was murderous, vicious, and more.

Yet, he did two things that indicated a moral clarity, or at least honesty, that I’m not sure to this day if any other Soviet/Russian leader has the capacity to do. One, well, rather than a certain former astronaut Gorbachev may be responsible for my first silver hairs, and the other is the fact that at the end, he realized that he and Soviet communism had lost and accepted it. Not easily, not well on some levels, but he had lost and he knew it. He then worked towards making it a soft landing, at least for some. That doing so helped others [see the (in) famous Pizza Hut commercial] may or may not have been an intended benefit.

I admit that now I wish I had taken the opportunity to hear him speak. Perhaps even in a small group setting, as it would have allowed a different, perhaps better, understanding of some of what is happening today. Thing is, Gorbachev was/is despised by most current Kremlin leadership (including Vladimir) because he was NOT a slavophile, but looked to the West. He felt very strongly that the best future for Russia lay with and through engagement with the West and adopting Western modes and thoughts. Word from various sources is that he was, er, not happy, with Vladimir for destroying “his legacy” of engagement with the West.

That said, I also admit that in many ways rather than sharing a cognac with Gorbachev I would much rather have had a beer or three with Lech Walesa, some time with Vaclav Havel, or the honor of a meeting with John Paul II. For all I would like to understand more of how the loss was handled, I feel that there is an even greater need — particularly now and not just with the Russia/Ukraine war — to understand all the ways that led to us winning. If the West and its legacy of thought is to be saved, we need look to these men (and Boss).

To steal from another classic, I come here today not to praise Gorbachev, but to bury him. Would that we could and were burying the murderous legacy of communism and socialism along with him. Sadly, we are not and even as we deal with the hopefully dying heads of the hydra that is the legacy of Marx and Lenin there are lessons to be learned from his life.

SOME PREVIOUS POSTS:

Vladimir And The Ukraine

Answers, Ramblings, And A Bit More On Vladimir And The Ukraine

Your Must Read For The Day On Russia

The Puzzles In Play, And The Missing Pieces

Quick Thoughts On Ukraine/Putin

The Thing Behind The Curtain

Missing Pieces And Surprise Pieces

Thursday Update

Not A Lot To Add

Noted

Monday Update

Burn Notice

Accuracy, Reliability, And More

Putin, Trump, And The Coming Storm

Three Futures For Russia

Quick Thoughts

Saturday Update

Mismatched Locomotives

War, Ag, Demographics, And The Worst Is Yet To Come

Past, Present, And A Hungry Future

Huge Grain Of Salt

The Moskva

Retribution Inbound

Uncertainty And Preparation

Honest Question

Monday Morning Quick Brief

War Of The Memes

A Little Free Ice Cream

Rumors Of War

Three Times Is…

If It’s Wednesday, This Must Be Moldova

Going Nuclear

How To Spy On The Russians

Here’s Hoping I’m Wrong

Pins And Needles Time

Mock Away

Intel Wars

The Revenge Of HUMINT

A Funny Thing Happened

Rumors of Rumors

Ukraine, Uvalde, Oh My

Very Interesting

A Quick Russia/Ukraine Update

Russia/Ukraine/Lithuania

Hmmmm

Hmmmm Follow-Up

Ukraine/Russia Tidbit

If You Think

Couple Of Quick Thoughts

Uh Oh

*****

If you would like to help me in my recovery efforts, feel free to hit the tip jar in the upper right or the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo. Getting hit by lightning is not fun, and it is thanks to your gifts and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.

Into The Light: Eric Flint

I’m sorry to report that Eric Flint passed away this weekend. The man was unique, with a background that gave him a profound appreciation for and understanding of the American worker. More than that, his background shaped him into not just an author — he was 50 I believe when he began to conquer that field — but someone who advanced the field by bringing in and up so many other writers.

Most will know him from his 1632 series, and it is a good way to share how unique he was with the world. How many authors do you know who would invent an entire new universe and then open it up to not just published authors, but unpublished or fan-authors around the world? Who would see someone with a good idea or take, and encourage them to write a good story and sell it?

Eric was also the person who got the Baen free library going, as I understand it talking the late (and much missed) Jim Baen into offering that first hit for free. Into including CDs with a mix of free stories into new hardcovers, betting that readers would find one or more other stories/series to go buy and read. Sheer marketing genius.

I did not know him personally, and that is my loss. Those who did shared with me a man who, though in a number of ways my political/philosophical opposite, was great to talk to and even fun to talk to. A man who had a knack of getting people to look at things from a different perspective, and was willing to do the same. He also had a wicked sense of humor.

I have to admit I enjoyed his works with other authors, particularly David Weber, as such collaborations seemed to work well and take some rough edges off both. To me, they were a bit richer than his single-author works, though that is a highly personal thing.

He was talented, generous to a fault (particularly with new writers), and a cheerful curmudgeon who enjoyed that status. We are the richer for his life and talent, and while his loss leaves a void in the field he did his best to fill that void and leave the field richer than before. That’s a hell of a legacy. Salute.

*****

If you would like to help me in my recovery efforts, feel free to hit the tip jar in the upper right or the fundraiser at A New Life on GiveSendGo. Getting hit by lightning is not fun, and it is thanks to your help and prayers that I am still going. Thank you.

Into The Light: Chuck Yeager

Many people have talked or written about the man over the years, but I’m not sure anyone has truly done him justice. What can you say about a man who enlisted in 1941 and rose to be one of the top fighter pilots in the war? Who then became a test pilot and at the age of 24 became the first pilot to break the sound barrier in level flight? Who did so despite being busted up from a riding accident, and with the help of a friend hid both the injury and the section of broom handle he used to close the door to the plane since his injury wouldn’t let him do it otherwise? Who then rose through various commands in the Air Force and was prepared to bomb Russia in planes who’s pilots knew they could reach the targets, but not have enough fuel to get home and so would have to “walk home” from behind enemy lines? A man who’s work helped create the technology that launched the space age?

I had the honor of meeting him at the premier of “The Right Stuff” movie in Atlanta. Somewhere in the small aerospace library I donated to Purdue is the booklet from that premier, that had his and other autographs. I was especially glad to meet him, and to get that autograph. I had the feeling he was both amused and bemused at the attention being paid to him; and, I also suspected from that meeting and his writings that he was not entirely pleased with how he was portrayed in the book. After all, all he had done was to do the job no matter what, which was his basic ethos. Why make such a big deal about it? It was clear that he was uncomfortable being a celebrity, and struck me as a man who would be much more comfortable talking anything else than his celebrity over a beer.

His contempt for a later generation of pilots that would not/were not willing to fly to a target knowing they could not get back was clearly stated in his works. I can only imagine what he thought of the spoiled, coddled, and ignorant generation today. His ethos, that mirrored many of his generation and background, was that you worked hard and did the job no matter what and to the best of your ability; and, that you played hard as well. You took care of your people, and if regulations got in the way, well, if not broken they could be bent for the right reasons. After all, if you (and they) couldn’t have fun, what was the point?

If you have only read “The Right Stuff” or seen the movie, you are only getting a fraction of the man. Read his own works, and mourn not that such a man has passed at the ripe age of 97. Instead, give thanks that he and others like him lived as without them we would not have the aerospace world of today.

Godspeed Charles Elwood Yeager

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