VJ DAY! REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR!

Today is a famous day in history; the war with Japan ended on August 14, 1945. It's commonly known as VJ Day, but in these days it's mostly unknown. Japan doesn't care for the term; they'd prefer if we called it "Victory in Asia." Of course, they didn't want any more A-Bombs destroying their cities and killing their citizens. It was a terrible thing, but everyone has to remember Pearl Harbor. What goes around, comes around; but I suppose the Japanese would not understand that idiom. Naturally, I was one happy airman; I had no desire to continue flying any more combat missions over Japan. I did not want to kill any more human beings; I did not start out from the beginning wanting to kill anybody. When I joined the Navy, I thought I would become a clerk to take advantage of my typing and stenography skills. Strangely, it didn't turn out the way I expected. As Burns would say, the best laid plans of mice and men often go wrong. I could care less about the mice, but as a man, my plan to become a "Yeoman" did not work out. Instead of tapping keys on a typewriter, I learned to pull a trigger. There is a humongous gap between those two activities! The celebrations in the country were deliriously ubiquitous--and wet; my crew members and I drove to Vancouver and drank whatever the bars served up. The only other time I can remember getting "seven sheets to the wind" (as Rhoda would say) was in Key West when somehow or other I wound up with a tattoo on my arm. I was discharged three months later, and home was a welcomed sight. WWII was over.

Well, skipping over a couple of painful civilian years ( you can read about them in my book), I found myself married and by 1952 there were four little ones who made us into parents and we raised them unto the present day when all four of them are going on a cruise through eastern Canada together. Fortunately, my kids like each other. I've heard of other families where the children do not get along for some reason or another; and that's not a happy situation for parents. And now, 63 years later the problem is fighting a "war" to stay young while, unfortunately, the vagaries of growing old are difficult adversaries. The armories of MDs, medications, and scooters are the weapons of the day, but lo, they are defeatable. And the end of this war does not have a name like "VJ Day".

"Is not the truth the truth?" (Henry IV)

My son, Joel, and my daughter-in-law, Barbara came for a visit this weekend and I have to admit they were a delight to have around. Joel especially was a huge asset for peace in our family when he accompanied us to buy a laptop computer for Rhoda so we wouldn't have to battle for time on the only one we have. Not only that, but he spent a few hours tutoring her on how to use it...it's not an easy learn, but Rhoda has a B.A. degree from American University so it shouldn't be a large problem. Although she might do better if she went to Harvard or Columbia. We had a lot of fun with the "kids" and discussions of memorable moments in our lives. Joel and I also had some contentious, but spirited philosophical dialogs about the relationships between knowledge, fact, and truth. Actually, no one wins these dialogs and the beauty of them is that each disputant comes away from them with the unassailable belief that his view is the "right" one. But as Socrates would say, "Define 'right'". These two met on a plane on its way to Australia where both had secured employment as teachers. During their married years they provided me with two fine grandchildren, Hannah, 23, and Adam, 25---both college graduates. In the 26 years we have lived here in Florida they have not visited very often, but when they do come, we enjoy them thoroughly.

After the "Dumpster Affair" I developed a huge black and blue welt on my left leg; not only that but I also got sick with a virus called "Rest Room Run". At least that's what I call it because I don't know how to spell dia-rear. I call it Rest Room Run because when the urge creeps up, if you don't run to the rest room, you'll have a large problem. Anyway, my dear wife gave up her Canasta game today in order to see that I did what I have to do to get rid of that particular virus, before being attacked by another one. You see, Norton or McAfee cannot help.

"The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices make instruments to plague us." (King Lear)

Joel and Barbara, my son and daughter-in-law, arrived here on Saturday evening for a two day visit, and this morning they left for Marco Island where JR has a Conference connected with his hopefully gainful employment. Joel said that the best Chinese buffet he ever went to was one we marched around in last time he was here. So that's where we took them for dinner. Afterward we went to Best Buy for a laptop because Rhoda and I battle each other for computer time. We came home and plugged the battery charger in the wall and the laptop did not charge. NOTHING WORKS! (See blog of Aug.6) We brought the laggard laptop back to the store on Sunday and the geek said he never, ever had a problem with a laptop charger cord. Yeah. Right. Then he provided us with a new charger cord. Well, at any rate, JR spent a good part of the day and evening of this "vacation" time lessoning RH on the vagaries of laptop computers. I think she'll be able to handle it. I HOPE she'll be able to handle it. You see, nothing works. For example, this morning after the visitors were on their way, Rho decided to go to the supermarket to pick up a few items we needed in the house. On the way out the door she had a small bag of garbage in one hand and a small blue wallet-size bag with her shopping list and coupons in the other. A few microseconds later she flew into the house and told me the story: she threw her coupons and shopping list into the dumpster and kept the bag of garbage which of course, Publix would not accept as a coupon. You see, NOTHING WORKS. And that's not the end of the story. I told her we'd take a couple of small ladders we had in the house, I'd climb into the dumpster, Walter Raleigh-like, retrieve her blue bag and leave the real bag of garbage where it belongs. Then climb out for my just reward. So I climbed into the dumpster, scooped up her coupon bag and then attempted to climb out of the garbage dump. Only problem was that I could only get one leg over the top of the dumpster trying to get out, and I simply could not get the other leg over the top. for my just reward. So I farted a few times, which is intestinal gas produced by bacterial action on waste matter in the intestines and composed primarily of hydrogen sulfide and varying amounts of methane. And after several of these expulsions I sort of jet propelled myself out of the dumpster with hardly any breath left at all and blood on my arms and leg from scratches I endured that required bandages sufficient enough to cover a small horse. It's the truth--nothing works. I will never jump into garbage again.