Taiwan - Chenjean's Village, String of Cups / Captain High's Last Flight

Thought about something captured on a trip to New Mexico while snapping this photo.  Don't know the significance of these little cup things but makes for some interesting content.
_______________

A few months ago I posted a series of coincidences in five segments.  None of them, however, compares to the one I am about to tell.

My best friend in college was Kevin; one of our college adventures was posted here.  One of the things we had in common was that, prior to our freshman year, we both held jobs of high responsibility - he as assistant manager at one of the largest ice cream shops in Houston and me in both TV and radio broadcasting in the Golden Triangle of Southeast Texas.  And the following summer, between our freshman and sophomore years, Kevin got a job as fueler of those huge jets for American Airlines at the intercontinental airport, and me as a very important fat washer at a huge slaughterhouse.

Naturally, when we both got back to SFA for our sophomore year in the fall of 1978 there were lots of stories and adventures to tell.  One that Kevin related was that an incoming Texas International flight was the last for a retiring captain.  It was tradition in those days for a retiring captain of any stature to do a low pass over the runway at speed, then circle back for a landing.  So on that day all work on the tarmac was stopped so that the workers could gather on the edge of the apron to watch the spectacle.  Houston cleared all traffic, and this captain, with a plane full of passengers, streaked by at 300 knots, gear up, only a few hundred feet above the ground.  At the end of the runway he pulled up in what amounted to a shallow Chandelle, then circled back to land.  Kevin, who was among those gathered there on the apron, said he'd never seen anything like it, even at an airshow, and likely never would again.

Flashforward to 1987.  My grandmother died that year, and three of us siblings made the drive from East Texas to Kansas City in order to clear some of the stuff from her apartment.  It was a long, arduous drive, as neither of my brothers wanted to stop, preferring to drive straight through the night in both directions.  I cannot sleep in a moving vehicle, so it fell upon me to either drive or keep the other driver awake as the nights dragged on, usually by talking and sharing stories.

It was during one of these shifts, deep into the night, when my oldest brother, Bob, began to relate how he'd been on a flight that was the last in the career of its captain.  The pilot got on the intercom and explained to everyone that this arrival was going to be a little different.  Instantly I shook myself out of my groggy state.  My gosh, could it be so?  Bob then described how the captain descended, leveling off at what seemed to be a very low altitude, then screamed over the runway at speed with wheels up.

Yes, it was so - my brother WAS ON THAT VERY FLIGHT!  He described feeling the incredible sense of speed as the ground raced by, and catching a glimpse of the crowd gathered to watch.  Then feeling the G force as Captain High - yes, his name was Captain High - pulled up when he got to the end of the runway.

And thus it was that I was able to get two first-hand accounts of that historic event - both from outside and inside of the airplane captained by a man named High.

Bookmark Project - Astros High-Five (Astros with Kevin) / No More Shroud Line

For the first time the other day I created a category based on an event.  Back in 2008 my friend Kevin celebrated his 50th birthday by driving down from Arkansas to attend an Astros game, a gift from his wife Megan.  They graciously invited me along, and naturally I brought with me the camera I had at the time, the Fujifilm 7000.  The category is called "Astros with Kevin".

It was tough getting good pictures from a point-and-shoot, but some ended up being passable, such as this bookmark featuring the team during their ritual high-fives to start the game.

_______________

[continued from yesterday's post; series started 10/20]

After about four days on the shroud line I could no longer ignore a growing problem associated with the job.  My wife says that I have "tofu skin", as it doesn't hold together too well.  Didn't know the truth of that at the time, but in struggling with the shroud pins there were several places on my hands where the skin literally rubbed off of my hands, so that when I took my gloves off there were patches that exposed the flesh underneath.  At first I didn't say anything, but these patches weren't healing, and grew by the day.  And the salt water that was used to soak the shrouds didn't help!

So finally I went into the floor office and showed my hands to the head foreman, Glenn,  who had no problem deciding that a change was needed.  To my great relief - and probably that of my co-workers - the next day one of the lead men escorted me into the very bowels of the floor (pun intended) to where my new job would be.  For the first time I was able to see the main floor, and looked around in fascination as we passed the skinning line, the tongue and head lines, the gut table, and the blood pit.  I remember mistaking blood - purplish, jelly-like globs on the floor - for brains.

England - York Minster, Dead Guy in an Alcove #1 / Dead Guy Prank in College

Now for the death.  Lots of dead guys in this place - along the walls, as part of walls between rooms, under the floor.  These are fascinating because every crypt and sepulcher tells a story.  This guy, for instance.  He obviously was a venerated holy man, and loved his dog.  His expression is friendly and mellow.  His vestments are properly arranged, and you can tell what style his shoes are.  His pillow even looks soft, thought it is literally made of stone.  If the inscription weren't in Latin I bet it would tell us something of his greatness.  A lot of money was spent in preparing his burial place, and though we don't know him one can tell he was a good fellow.

Death never did bother me too much, and I have never taken it as seriously as many would think appropriate.  But fact is, our earthly death is just a crossing over.

And it can also be fun.  Ever play a graveyard prank on someone?  In Scouts we sure did.  And one time my best friend in college, Kevin, and I decided to prank some kids having recess on the grounds of an elementary school on Mound Street in Nacogdoches, Texas.  Yes those innocent kids, frolicking gleefully during play time, had no idea what was coming their way.

In those days there was a funeral home right across the street from their campus.  I had just bought a plywood board for a construction project (a snake cage) in my dorm room when we drove by and got an idea.  Looking to the left was the playground; to the right, across the street, was a funeral home.  Why not give those kids some real entertainment - something they will remember?  We quickly circled around to what would become the stage for our caper.

The driveway of the funeral home sort of wound behind the establishment, so we pulled in all the way to the back so the kids couldn't see us.  Once behind the funeral home we rearranged that board to lay flat in Old Blue, my 1968 college car, using the front dash and the back seats as support.  I happened to have an old blanket in the trunk, and after Kevin laid on the board I threw it over him.  Then slowly we crept out of the drive and rolled by those kids nice and easy so they could get a good look. 

We would have loved it if all of the kids suddenly screamed and headed for the doors of the school building, whisked in by their caring teachers, but it didn't happen that way.  The reason?  Kevin could not stop laughing, even when he was supposed to be dead!  As a reward we received a few smirks and pointed fingers from the ungrateful little rugrats.  Better luck next time...

Taiwan 2024 - Taitung Area, Rocky Pole / Getting Old (in some ways)

After visiting the rock formations already posted, we ended up exploring an area where the fishing vessels were based, and these artfully-placed rocks were affixed to the structural columns at a warehouse.  A little further along we encountered a score of restaurants that took advantage of the catches fresh off the boats docked nearby.  The place had the feel of a Moroccan bizarre, with the proprietors stationed outside their respective establishments imploring passersby to come inside.

Definitely see a bookmark in this one...

_______________

I've observed that as a person ages there is much talk and angst about the gradual decline that takes place in one's memory, balance, reflexes and intellect, among other things.  So naturally, now that I'm 66 years old, I hear my share of it.  I now unfailingly use the handrail when negotiating stairs, am more careful of where my feet are placed during a walk, chew a little more slowly, and take exercise a little more seriously.  But I have no hangups when it comes to intellectual or memory decline, as this has been a fact of my life for as long as I can remember.  Nothing has changed there aside from the fact that names are now a little harder to come by.

As an example, one time during college my best childhood friend (Brent) and I went on a road trip from Beaumont to the Ozarks in northwest Arkansas.  This was the summer after my junior year in high school.  We did plenty of exploring, and got to know the area fairly well by the end of the week we were there.  There was a hilltop view that I especially remembered.

Thus, when a few years later I took a road trip there with my best college friend (Kevin) from Nacogdoches to the same place, I was eager to show him the sights.  We explored Eureka Springs, then the Bella Vista area.  In Bella Vista we drove to the top of a hill that had a great view.  I said to my friend, "This is great, but wait till I show you another view that's even better!"  So we drove around and parked near a trailhead, and hiked up to the top of this hill.  Sweeping my arm across the vista I exclaimed, "Now this is really great, isn't it?"  Kevin took one look and informed me that this was the exact same spot we were at a half hour ago!, only we climbed up the other side of the hill so in my mind the view was entirely different.  He then headed down by himself to the car, leaving me only a little bit chagrined up there by myself.  Only a little bit because Yes, we both knew that I was perfectly capable of creating such a moment.

That, plus countless other examples, leaves me feeling OK about this business of getting old, because in the ways that count not much has changed at all.

Taiwan - Taipei Street Scenes, Signage #15 / Interviewing Donald Morris

_______________

[continued from yesterday's post; series stared 05/09]
By far the most interesting thing I did while working at KTRM, however, was an interview I did for the news department with a man named Donald Morris.  I did not work for the news department, but saw Mr. Morris on TV one day in Beaumont and got the idea that he'd be interesting to talk to.  So I asked Kevin Brennan if it would be interesting to him as well, and he said that if I got the interview he'd do something with it.  After a few phone calls arrangements were made to meet at his office in the Houston Post building.

Trouble was, that meeting was scheduled during a school day, and I was still a senior at BCP at the time.  Of course no one would have given me permission to do such a thing on school time, so we had to skip.  I say "we" because I invited a friend of mine named Bill McKeon to tag along for the ride.  The interview was set right in the middle of the day and I knew that if things went smoothly we could make it over there and back without upsetting the routine.  The night before this little excursion I went to the station and picked up the taping equipment, getting a few pointers from Kevin.  Then I called Bill and things were good to go.

It went without a hitch.  I drove my dad's Cougar to the school and picked Bill up at a predetermined location right after he got off the bus.  We got on Interstate 10 and skedaddled out of Beaumont before first period was even under way.  Finding the Post building on the Southwest Freeway was no problem, and before we knew it we were on the elevator, microphones and tape machine in tow.

Mr. Morris was indeed a very interesting person.  At the time he was writing a column for the paper, but had served in the CIA and written a book which was made into a movie (All Hands on Deck), among other things.  He appeared totally at ease with us - or at least was successful in making us greenhorns feel at ease with him - and provided many laughs and anecdotes.  In a little more than an hour we wrapped it up and said good-bye.  By stroke of luck we arrived back at the school just as the buses were loading, so Bill simply got right on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  The interview was edited into a weekly Perspective program that aired either the next or the following Saturday, I forget which.

I still have a copy of that program, but unfortunately up in the Texas panhandle I had a girlfriend that was a bit of a flake, and upon finding the cassette plugged it into a machine and started recording a love note.  So the beginning was erased, but a majority of the interview remains intact.

As another aside, very recently (I'm writing this in May of 2020) I saw a TV report on Channel 2 here in Houston.  The story was about a police officer in Sour Lake, a small town just outside of Beaumont, who was assaulted very badly by a suspect at a convenience store there.  When they named the officer as "William McKeon" I knew right away it was Bill.  I was not surprised that he'd chosen such a service-oriented career, and that the community loved him, as the story reported, for his approachability and sense of humor, which I remembered about him well.

I hadn't communicated with him since we wrote back and forth during my first year of college at SFA, but the connection was still there as if no time had passed at all.  A couple of weeks after the incident, when he stabilized but still in a coma, I drove to Beaumont to see him at the hospital.  I'd written a letter to him reminding him of some of the good times and adventures we had, and included a card for this blog in case it might help while away the long hours in the hospital should he come out of the coma (they weren't even sure he was going to live at that point).  The lady that was at his bedside at the time said that he could hear even though he couldn't respond, and suggested that I read the letter out loud to him...that the memories might help snap something into place.

For the love of God I could not, fairly breaking down right in front of this stranger, seeing Bill laid out like he was.  I could do nothing but stammer a good-bye and leave with my own thoughts and grief.  The reports now are that, after some six months, he is recovering, but has to learn to do everything all over again, including speak.  Maybe he'll be able to read our story in this post one day and reminisce on his road to recovery.  God willing...

Taiwan - Taipei Street Scenes, Signage #10 / Interesting Characters

_______________

[continued from yesterday's post; series started 05/09]
One thing I enjoyed about working for a bigger station in a bigger market was the people that crossed your path.  They were more interesting...out there in the sticks at KOBS, no one crossed your path except the next guy on the air and the Kobs family.

One night I was on in the middle of my shift and was by myself at KTRM.  Suddenly this guy walks into the studio with some records in his hand.  He was a country artist trying to get some airplay for his recordings whenever he could - this was the days before streaming, Spotify, etc. when getting your song on the radio was the best way to promote your material or be heard by someone that could give you your big break in the business.  So this guy wanted me to play his music right then and there, but I had the presence of mind to say no, telling him to leave me a copy so that I could give it to the music director.  He was disappointed, but thanked me and walked out without getting nasty about it.

Another time I got a phone call about 3:30 a.m. or so on the hot line from a Jody Powell.  Now the hot line was an unlisted number that very few people knew about.  He wanted to talk to Keven Brennan, our news director.  After a short and pleasant conversation about where Kevin might be (asleep) I pressed him for details so that I could leave him a message.  That's when he revealed that he was President Carter's press secretary, obviously catching on to the fact that I had no idea, even after hearing the name.  I was impressed, but asked myself after hanging up, "Don't these people sleep?"  Kevin came in around 5:00 to prepare his news, and when I gave him the message he seemed to be neither surprised nor excited.

Bookmark Project - Train Silhouette (Astros with Kevin) / The Fat Table

Anyone who knows me well knows that I don't follow sports that much.  The exception being professional football, which my wife and I followed closely and enjoyed immensely for several years.  Then, when it turned into a political circus a couple of years ago, we tuned out and never went back.  So sad, because one of the functions of attending a sporting event - whether in person or by watching on TV - is to provide an escape from exactly those types of things.

But 2008 was well before that time.  I do enjoy going to an Astros game because it is relaxing, and the crowds seem to be more family oriented.  For a couple of years Chenjean and I got to go for free, as we helped hand out stuff to patrons as they came in through the gates...usually the "first 10,000", though it sometimes went beyond that.  And as someone who "worked the game", when our duties were over we could sit in any seat that was vacant.  In a more recent year we were invited by a bank to attend in their special box, and actually meet some of the players.  So, while baseball is not a sport that we actively follow, we do enjoy the experience of an Astros game at Minute Maid park.

_______________

[continued from yesterday's post; series began on 10/20]

I followed the lead man, winding around until we arrived at a low, flat table that had big sheets of fat chuted in from the gut table.  My new job was fat washer, which was considered light duty for the injured until they recovered enough to return to their former posts.

After being at it a while, however, I had no intention of returning to any other post, much less the shroud line!  The position was right in the thick of things, offering a pretty good view of everything going on in the floor.  And not that I've ever shied away from hard labor, but the duty was light enough to allow me to walk around a bit to get to know the folks nearby, learning what their jobs were and how they fit into the entirety of the disassembly line.  I enjoyed it.

My own job as a fat washer was a three-parter.  As the fat sheets came in from the chute, I was supposed to swish it around and look for intestinal contents and other undesirables that may have contaminated it from the gut table, as well as cysts and parasites that may have infected the beast before slaughter.  If it passed, I tossed the fat over the end of the table into an auger where it was smushed and fed into a 4-inch pipe.  Steam was injected into the pipe to emulsify the fat for the quarter-mile trip to the other side of the plant, where trucks were waiting to receive it for transportation to hither and yon: the destinations were where it would be processed into products such as Crisco Oil and margarine.  It was fascinating to me that I was there at the very beginning of this process, which provided cooks all over the world with these ingredients.

Garland Pipe Organs of Fort Worth - Stacked Pipes #1

My best friend from college, Kevin, has a son, Jordan, who is a professional pipe organ builder.  My younger brother, Mike, is a pipe organ fanatic.  So, when he (my brother) turned 50 I decided to arrange for a tour of the shop and some of the organs that the company built, installed, and maintain in DFW-area churches.  We drove up one weekend back in October and made a day of it, and a good one it was.  Jordan and his family really went out of their way to make it a meaningful experience, and I'd like to thank them publicly - as public as this blog gets, that is - for making our visit one of the highlights of Mike's year.

When one thinks of organs in churches, there is a stately image that comes to mind of a robed organist playing away in an ornate setting with beautiful singing voices in accompaniment.  And that's true if you go to the churches.  Knowing that to be the image, Jordan warned us that the shop where they're built and tested is just that - a shop, full of tools, shavings of all kinds, sawdust and piles of stuff everywhere, and the loud noises of construction.  That's just what we wanted, though...the churches thing would be just gravy.

And that's how it ended up.  Both Mike and I were fascinated with the shop and being able to see the inner workings of how those incredible instruments are designed, engineered and built from scratch.  There was an area where Jordan fine tuned, "voiced", the pipes, another area where the cabinetry was made, a place where the intricate wiring and circuitry was prefabbed, and yet another area of forty feet in height where the instrument was partially assembled and tested.  We could have stayed all day.

But there were other things on the agenda.  Only a few pics snapped in the shop will be included in this series (just this and the next two posts), as I'm careful to not include things that might be proprietary.  Most will be of the beautiful environments in which the finished products are operated, and it was in those places where we spent the most time.

Taiwan - Kaohsiung River of Love, Tower Profile / The Horse that Walked the Aisle

Every once in a while you'll see an animal participating in a wedding.  YouTube has hundreds of videos of dogs acting as ring bearers or performing some other function in the ceremony, and there is one with a couple of llamas sent in to surprise the bride.

Well, I attended a wedding in which a horse was called upon to walk the aisle.  Kevin and Megan, my best friends in college, sent us an invitation to their daughter's wedding, so the wife and I drove up to Arkansas to be there.  It was an awesome, rustic venue - a barn out in the country - surrounded by gently rolling hills and a small lake down by the way.  The ceremony itself was conducted outdoors, and the weather cooperated beautifully.

There were originally supposed to be two horses - one for him and one for her - and after saying their vows they were to literally ride off into the sunset.  But as fortune would have it the groom-to-be had a four-wheeler accident just days before the big event and was unable to sit on his horse.  Thus, we're down to one horse, a mare named Roxy.  But at the right moment she very obediently clopped down the aisle and stood long enough to see them get hitched (pun intended, sort of).  After it was over she was led down to the lake where she cavorted while the party and guests made their way up to the barn for the reception.

Of course I went nuts over all of this, as I love (and miss) the country and anything that is out of the ordinary (which I also miss).  Was tempted to bring the Bigger Cahoona, but didn't want to distract with the shutter noise or get in the way of the professional photographer hired for the occasion.  Therefore no pictures, but - besides having the chance to visit good friends - it was wonderful to be there and see a life of love begin with the help of friends and family - including those of a different species...

Taiwan - Taipei Street Scenes, Signage #7 / Move to KTRM

Sometimes the signage was on the move...

This guy made easy money, as all he did was slowly wend his way through the crowds in the Youth Shopping District.

_______________

[continued from yesterday's post; series started 05/09]
My time at KOBS was indeed a wonderful experience, full of memories and pride in where I worked.  But it was time to move on; due to an alignment of unfortunate circumstances it became more and more painful to make that drive to my old hometown of Orange.  So I used the reel-to-reel machines in the studio to make some air checks, and applied at KTRM in Beaumont, a country music AM station.

Now these were the days when KTRM occupied an old white one-story house on some property adjacent to Parkdale Mall.  The living room was partitioned to make rooms for a reception desk and office space, and the bedrooms were converted into a transmitter room, the broadcast and production studios, and a newsroom.  Seeing real modern broadcast equipment and being around real professional broadcasters in a much larger city made me feel like I'd hit the big time.

The reason I got hired there was because their part-time weekend guy, Ray Gedaley, had given his notice and they needed someone to take his place to work the midnight-to-six shift on weekends.  I had befriended Henry LaRocca at Beaumont-Charlton Pollard High School and he helped me get a foot in the door.  Also there at that time were Kevin Brennan in news, Robert "X" Brown, Gary Powers as program director, and a midnight-to-six guy that was the music director.  Jim Lago also worked there, and Marty Adelman.

I was trained by Ray Gedaley and Gary Powers, and must admit was more than a little intimidated by the technology and much higher level of professionalism.  There were cart machines that utilized primary, secondary and tertiary lighted cues; timing of songs and announcements had to be exact, down to the second, to hit the network news just right; answering more than one phone line for a much broader audience; monitoring a hot line for VIP's and emergency broadcasts, etc. etc.  Also I had to learn a whole new genre of music, changing from Top 40 to Country (mostly classic).  Later on I would learn to handle the board for remote broadcasts and sports games, and would occasionally substitute for an absentee.  All of this was quite a change and a giant step up from what I'd experienced at KOBS.

Yours truly operating the board at KTRM.  As can be compared with this post, the equipment was professional - not homemade like at KOBS.  Note the carts to my left, something that was beyond what Mr. Kobs was willing to pay for on his shoestring budget.

Bookmark - Minute Maid Window Shot

Created as part of the "Astros with Kevin" series...zoomed way, way in - plus cropped in a little - with the 6MP Fuji 7000.