Remember'n the Cuban Missile Crisis

At midnight I switched the TV over to PBS. I were just check'n, before I turned in for the night, what program they would show this late. OH my god, "the Cuban Missile Crisis".....I'm gonna watch this. I was part of that ya know...1962.  USS DuPont DD-941. Shipboard electrician 3rd class. Change light bubs....stuff like that.

The first hour was about a Russian elusive submarine what slap refused to surface from their hidyholes under the sea. Not even to recharge their batteries after they had been detected and their location pin pointed by aircraft. On board was a nuclear warhead torpedo what would have blowed a ship clean slap out the water a hunnert feet in the air.....and start a nuclear war between Russia, Cuba and the United States. They had no radio contact with Russia, so they had no idea what to do when they were finally located by the US Navy. The Russian submarine fleet commander was on board, stop'n the ships captain from firing of that one deadly torpedo. They surfaced and were sent on their merry way back to Russia. Shortly after, Russia removed all their missiles from Cuba. It was over....thanks to the Russian submarine fleet commander.

When I joined the Navy in Oct. 1961, I didn't know nuttin bout Russia send'n missiles to Cuba. I didn't no nuttin bout Cuba neither. Nobody tole me. My first shipboard mission was to Cuba, chas'n them dad gum submarines, right bout the time the crisis was at a head......bout to pop like a festered pimple. Even while we were chasing submarines all over the Caribbean Sea an' drop'n little hand grenades on 'em to signal them to surface, I still didn't know what was go'n on. Us peon sailors weren't supposed to know nuttin. Just do the job what we was trained to do.We weren't never informed that tomorrow we may be blowed to smithereens. To us, it was just a game of cat an' mouse.

That face mask thingy I was tell'n ya bout not long ago, what I ripped slap to pieces, that was part of a chemical/nuclear defense outfit we would wear if'n it came down to a attack.....or something like that. No part of human body parts were exposed to possible chemicals or nuclear radiation....duck taped tighter an a drum. The mask thingy (OBA) made "generic" oxygen to breath.

Durn'n those times of chas'n them dad gun Russian subs, we slacked up on work time......nuttin to do but smoke cigarettes, take naps an' stand ready for battle stations. I breaks out my camera and movie camera an' start tak'n gobs pictures an' movies. Had me some good ones too. Jet aircraft land'n on carriers, ships refuel'n an' grocery shop'n, helicopters, hunnerts of US Navy ships bounc'n round in  the sea, Russian cargo ships try'n to sneeks into Cuba.....stuff like that. Well hell, ain't nobody tole me I couldn't take no pictures. They was all confiscated an' destroyed. I got me a good ass chew'n.

Ain't many left what remember how close we was to nuclear war back in 1962. One day.....it's gonna happen. Just not today. 

  

   

Updated.....Fix'n "da house"

I sit outside in the blazing heat, look'n down the road for the Fedex truck. I have parts on that Fedex truck to fix "Sally da house" ya know. At some point I must have dozed off........ZZZZzzzzzzzz.
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Hours later I waked up....niece Emma hand'n me a package full of parts. Ya see, last week the "Auto Brake" went out on "da house". But I tole you that last week didn't I? I ordered the parts from Amazon, an' in 5 days, I get me some shiny brand spank'n new parts.....plus spares. It's a bout a 15 minute job to replace the "rotten green switch", but it will probly take the old Billy Bob bout two hour. You know, fresh coffee, a lawn chair for breaks, put me on some shoes, rummage through the tool box for the right size crescent wrench, open the hood thingy....then climb in there an' do the replacement.

This is the dreaded "rotten green switch". It gets it's name from the color....I mean....like...it's green.

Today is August 6th. I have one month before I run slap out of drugs (meds). My doctor lives in Deming, New Mexico. Old "pesky neighbor" Wayne lives there too. That's where the "da porch" resides. So's I don't confuse nobody what don't know, "da porch" is where the old Billy Bob used to "go outside, sit on "da porch" sip'n up a cup an' do some think'n". Sit'n on "da porch" was bout like sit'n on the bank of a creek full of rainbow trout with a fish pole in yer hands......sip'n up a cup an' think'n. 

I been think'n for quite some time....."Billy Bob, you gonna die". Well, maybe not today, but at some point in everbody's life, they gonna die....ain't no git'n round it. I ain't skeered bout the die'n part, that's easy. What I worry bout is the pre-die'n. What shape I gonna be in. Will I be in pain? Am I gonna be a burden on my family when the time comes I cain't take care of myself no more? Who's gonna take care of me? Them are the questions I ask myself every day.....an' it gets mighty depress'n think'n bout that kind of stuff.

I done throwed my last dream out the winder....not today, but a while back. My "Sally da house" r/v shelter an' patio.

I don't know bout nobody else, but when ya throws your last dream in the dumpster, ya ain't got nuttin much left to live for.

I pretty much decided to invest into mak'n "Sally da house" more comfortable.....bells an' whistles....stuff like that. I done got everthing I need, toys an' such...automatic coffee maker, a few guns I never shoot, a bicycle I don't ride, big ol' flat screen TV, 500 watt sound system what ain't been turn on for months, r/c airplane what ain't never been in the air, that r/c Mississippi sternwheeler boat thingy what sits on the wall.....yeah, I got me some toys, an' I got room for more.

For comfort, I'm think'n rip out the couch an' put in a nice comfortable recliner. Replace the microwave I cuss ever time I use it. Ya gotta beat hell out it just to get the freak'n door open. A brand spank'n new "memory foam" topper on the Number bed so's I can sleep better. A zero gravity chair for out under the awning. Lay back an' take a nap if'n I want to.

Ok...things to do ya know....Laters.

Trip cancelled

Today's continuing trip to Arizona has been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances.

How long does it take to write a "short" story for a blog post? Yesterdays post took no less than 4 hours, two hours what was lost when blogger eat up every word I had wrote an' left me with nuttin but a "s" at the top of a empty page. I ain't put'n no blame on Blogger 'cause I'm good at "push'n buttons". While I was feverishly push'n keys, words of wisdom pop'n up on the screen, I was also push'n buttons......, everthing was gone....poooof, just like that.

Weren't much humor in yesterdays post, but let me tell ya, when ya take a Italian ladyfriend from New York City out of the city, there gonna be humor. This girl flap her jaws from the time she wake up till the time she go to bed. All day long she flap them jaws of hers. I just says "yeah, uh huh, ok, what ever", stuff like that. Her favorite say'n was...."wait, I ain't done yet"....flap flap flap for another 30 minute. Three months I listen to that jaw flap'n....turn all my hair gray by the time that trip was finally over.

Beer? Yeah, Dee Dee like her beer. We go'n down the road...she says "ya want a ice pac for your back?" and she come back from the frige with another ice cold beer. Ever time she pop a top, I jumps slap out my skin. Now I like the taste of beer myself, but at 8am? Holy craps.....that when ya drink fresh brewed coffee.

In my stash I had a brand spank'n new quart of expensive Pussers Black rum. Hide it ya know. Only has a couple sips out that bottle. We was sit'n round after a nice Italian supper, baskettys an' meat balls all she know how to cook...I says, "let's have a rum cooler". She had already fount my stash. Gone.....poooof, just like that, that bottle was empty, not a drop left. I give her some $$$ to go get us a 6 pac....she come back with a 30 pac. Turn all my hair gray by the time that trip was over.

Ok, got a Fed X delivery coming today. Got to watch for 'em 'cause they don't know me.

I may be back later......fair warn'n.

California trip 2002/2003

Grrrrrrrrrr, growl......cuss cuss.....damn, lost a whole blog post. Took two hour an'....pooof, it's gone, just like that.

Now here's what I was try'n to say......I write nonsense, But you already know that, right?

Lately I been writ'n bout a few childhood memories....adventures an' misadventures. Jist 'cause it says in the title, up there on the top, "Billy Bob's Travels", that don't mean I'll be travel'n ever day. Or camped at some exotic RV resort with a hunnert an' thirteen touristy things to do ever day. I got to do with what I got....nonsense.  

But if'n travel is what ya want, travel I got. But of course, when I travel, ya gotta put up with some nonsense too.

Me an' second "first mate" Dee Dee decides we gonna take us a trip to California.

 I been there before, so's I know how to get there. "Alice" is run'n pretty good, get'n bout 6.8 mile a gallon, hit'n on all 8 cylinders....horsepower to spare. We heads north out of Port Aransas to San Antonio. Check on the house....see what the neighbors stole while I was away for a week. Thiev'n bastards steal everthing I got. Even lift a big ol' 400 pound lawn tractor over a 4 foot fence. Garage door is wide open, everthing gone....poooof, just like that.

We make our way west the following day, after spend'n all night driv'n nails board'n up broke doors, replac'n broke locks....just security stuff ya know. Arrived in Del Rio that afternoon. Look around and says...."to hell with this", we gonna go visit Judge Roy Beans place. Dee Dee spend a hunnert dollar just like that, buy'n touristy stuff. Drink a couple brews in the Jersey Lilly saloon (just kid'n) an' spend the night.

Yeee Haw....move 'em out, rawhide....we go to Seminole Canyon State Historic Park an' Big Bend National Park. "Where all the pics Billy Bob"?
Dee Dee ain't never see no mountains an' Indian hideyholes before, so she was some kind of excitis....squeal'n "Oh Look".  She from New York City ya know.

Santa Elena canyon in the background. That the Rio Grande river run through that cut in the mountains.

We crank up "Alice" and head west on a twenty mile washboard dirt road. I named that road the last time I was here...."the dirt road". That were bout the roughest road I ever drive on. Fifteen twenty mile a hour the whole ways.

This is the smooth part. Back there by them mountains it get hairy. Big ol' ruts in the road....stuff like that. 

But first we stop off an' see where old Gilberto Luna used to live. Raised a big ol' family in that condo....rocks, sticks an' mud.
We headed on to Study Butte an' Terlingua Texas. Be there by mid afternoon I betcha. Eat up a bite an' take a look see how people live a hunnert year ago.

Most all the houses an' buildings in Terlingua are built out of roaks, probly 'cause that's all there is in Terlingua.....rocks an' a few stiks. I took to the place real quick like think'n I might some day move all my junk here an' camp for the rest of my life. Right.....!!! I tried camp'n for a week in July a few year back. Thought I was gonna die. It were 90 degs at 11 oclock pm. Ain't nobody sleep in them temps.

The cemetery was my favorite tourist attraction. Not that I like to look at dead people or nuttin like that, I like old historic graves.

Well shoot, I ain't even half way to California an' I got to get this in the mail before the mailman come. Maybe tomorrow we will make it to Arizona.....what ya think? 







 


 

A short blog??? Oh hell no

Got a email...."Make your blog posts shorter".

Well shoot, my posts ARE shorter. I could write a big ol' book ya know, like 200 pages of (like MsB says) adventures and misadventures. I could have wrote yesterdays post in probly one paragraph, but then Gypsy wouldn't have fall out her chair laugh'n an' almost break a hip. Ya gotta have just a little bit of humor in your live.

I started be'n humorous when I was of early age. In school, I was the class clown....or the "you silly boy". Teachers didn't like it much 'cause it disrupted the daily routine of "teacher power".

Speak'n of teachers, did I ever tell bout my first grade teacher. She were a big ol' thing lady teacher....waddle round the classroom with a stik in her hand. Whallop ya a good'un if'n she want to. Make ya sit on a stool in the corner after she beat hell out ya. Teachers in 1947 was mean critters.

I was already a "mean little bastard" by the time I start school. I weren't no bully or nuttin like that if'n that what you're think'n. The little girls thought I were the best thing what ever happen, me run'n round the school yard scream'n like a flipp'n banshee. I was cute an' I knowed it. But you laugh an' make fun of my second hand holey bibs or my too big hand-me-down lace up hightop shoes, I gonna hit ya right in the eye. I take plenty lickin from that teacher an' her stik.....sit in the corner for a hour. I knowed that corner well. 
Anyhows, that big ol' lady teacher was as mean as poor little Billy Bob was. And she always win no matter how hard I try. Ya see, she had more experience than I did.....knowed what I was gonna do before I did. She was always watch'n me out the corner her eye, know'n at some point Billy Bob gonna do his thing. The class is gonna laugh at his antics and ain't gonna learn nuttin. Be dummys all their life, all because of Billy Bob be'n a "silly boy".

Humor has served me well all my life. Even thought it has got me in a bit of trouble along the way. Like one time when I was in the Navy defending our country from a Cuban missile attack during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Do ya know what a "sea bat" is? We was on a train'n mission for newbie officers, kids just out of school. I catched me up a sea bat. Put him under a cardboard box back on the fantail (back of the ship where ya can land a helicopter if'n ya want to). There's a crowd of bout 30 sailors back there, most of 'em know what a sea bat is. Here come a young officer in train'n....he ain't never see a sea bat before an' he bout to see his first. I says...."there's a sea bat up under that cardboard box, ya wanna see him"? I tell him be real careful an' don't let him out. That officer get down on hands an' knees an' carefully raise the edge that box. KAPOW!!!....I hit that officer a good one, right in the ass with a broom....he see his first sea bat that day. Boy howdy, he were one piss off officer in train'n. I gets wrote up for stik'n a officer, make it all the way to "Captains mast" over a damn sea bat. I lose one stripe for 90 days an' get one week of "head" clean'n duty. Clean'n heads sucks.

 Now how did I get to writ'n that nonsense when I got important stuff to talk bout? Yesterday, I was think'n, today is a perfect day to go swak golf balls. And it were. Not too hot with a slight southerly breeze.

Have ya ever stand on top a "rickety" wooden step ladder what scare hell out ya? Wobble all over the place. Well, that what the old Billy Bob feel like yesterday.....knock that first ball right slap in the water. By the forth hole, I done knowed I should have stay home. My back hurt an' I were six strokes over par. Things weren't look'n too good. Golf sucks when ya cain't stand up. I hung it up on the 15th hole, lower back hurt'n like hell.  

A fool on a bicycle

You ain't gonna believe this, but the old Billy Bob is try'n to think of something excit'n to write about today. What could be more excit'n than somebody mak'n a fool of his self an' fall'n down? Get a few skin ups, noggin lumps, cut's an' scrapes....bruises....stuff like that.

Ya already know that when I was a youngster, I were a "whiz" on a bicycle. That was my transportation....I go a hunnert mile a hour on one them things. But a bicycle was much more than a means of transportation. It was a cowboy's horse. A jet airplane. A space ship. A racing car. For the adventurous Billy Bob, it was a ready means of "get'n hurt".

I lived with Grampa in Overland, Mo. In the basement was this old model 1920's something bicycle.....hard rubber tires....an' no brakes. I'm serious, it didn't have no brakes. "I can ride this" I says. I oils up all the mov'n parts what weren't mov'n, mount up on that thing, an' take off down the sidewalk. We pick'n up downhill speed, must be go'n bout a hunnert mile a hour. There's a car stopped at the stop sign, I'm gonna plow right into the side of it, I gotta make me a quick left turn. I leans to the left, wind flow'n through my hair....I ain't gonna make it. I crashes head long into a 3 feet deep concrete culvert. Billy Bob git skin up pretty good, big ol' goose egg lump on my head, bicycle is totaled....ain't gonna ride that thing no more.

Did I ever tell ya bout the time....the front wheel come off? I was rid'n a second hand Billy Bob "fixed" bicycle down the dump road. It was a mile long gravel road top to bottom. We used to roll tires down that hill till the cops caught us. "I can ride this thing down that hill". I takes off.....yeee ha....I go'n waaayy too fast. I hits a bump an' the front wheel come slap off the ground like I was do'n some kind of fool stunt....then it take off down the road all by itself. I guess you know what happen now. Them front forks dig into the ground, bicycle come to a sudden stop an' Billy Bob keep right on go'n. Forks bend all to hell an' gone, Billy spit'n dirt an' sand out his mouth....cuts an' scrapes all over the place. I done been in a terrible accident.

We was rid'n bikes way up on a mountain on a old timber trail road....or something like that. I looks "down" the road....way down, that would be one hell of a ride. I takes off, down that mountain trail, try'n my damndest to keep that bicycle on the road an' out of the woods. At the bottom of this steep incline road was a dead end into the main road. I got to stop. I hit the other side that main road do'n, you guessed it, a hunnert mile a hour. Me an' that bicycle fly'n through the air. See above...I done been in another terrible accident.

I runs slap into the back a car at a stop sign. I had just finish "fix" my brand spank'n new second hand bicycle. Air the tires up an' all that stuff. I take it out in the street for a robust test run. I see I need to stop pretty soon or I gonna crash right slap into that car at the stop sign. I need to apply the brakes right now....go'n a hunnert mile a hour ya know. What the hell, the freak'n brakes don't work.....I gonna crash. I goes up the back side that car, slide across the top an' down the windshield. Poor little old lady like to have a heart attack right there at that stop sign. I demolished the front wheel an' forks on that bicycle, got me a few cuts, scrapes an' bruises, but that weren't the last time I ride a bicycle. I ain't learned a damn thing have I???

Ok, that enough bicycles for one day.....what ya wanna do now? How bout we go water skiing? I probly tole this story before, but I gonna learn how to water ski. I was right bout 18 year old an' all my "uppity" friends had speed boats an' knowed how to water ski. They was gonna learn me. "Well shoot, I can do that". I put on a set of skis an' a ski vest thingy so's I don't drown while I'm gasp'n for air. "Sit right here on the end of the dock an' hold on tight to this ski rope". He yank me slap off'n that dock like I were shot from a human cannon at the circus. "Let go the rope, let go the rope... you gonna drown" as I go bounc'n across the water with no skis.

After a few more arm an' leg frailing unsuccessful attempts, I was "up" on them skis do'n tricks. If'n ya wanna call swaller'n gallons of water tricks. I learn how to jump the boats wake an' go fly'n through the air, but I never learn how to successfully land. I almost learn how to swim that day. Up there on the beach is a bunch of little high school chick-a-babys frolick'n in the water an' lay'n in the sand. Sun bathing that what they called it, but I knowed why they was there. I had seen this done before, I'm gonna go a hunnert mile a hour, let loose that rope an' glide right up there to the beach, step out them skis....say, "hello girls...my name is Billy Bob". Well, that ain't exactly the way it turn out. When I hit that sandy beach, them ski's stop right there, an' I keeps on go'n. Whoa Boy howdy I was one embarrass little red face feller. Spit'n sand out my mouth, check'n my extremities for cuts, scrapes an' bruises....chick-a-babys laugh'n there ass off.

Last nights exercise session was a bust. Ever thing I do cause pain in my lower back. Gonna give it a rest for a couple days.

Now what the hell??? I'm out of propane for my grill. I had me a big old steak an' a tater all prepared for my supper last night. The grill don't fire up. Don't that beat all??? Oh wait, Joseph got a BIG grill right over there. Fire that sucker up an' have me a purty good supper if'n I do say so myself.

I'm think'n I got the Weber grill all figger out now. Ya get that cast iron grate hotter an' hell, you can burn anything. Before ya know it, I'll be grill'n watermelon. 

I jumps on that golf cart, look at that first hole....."I can do this".  

   

Laser surgery??? Oh no, not me

I goes over there on the edge of the couch last night an' start do'n some back bend'n stuff. Cain't absolutely say one way or a nuther if'n it do me any good, but I got to think'n.....tomorrow would be a good day to go do some golf ball swak'n. I was bend over in one them back stretch'n exercises an' I feels something move back there. Now I'm bend over an' cain't get straighten up. Exercise sucks!!!!

Anyhows, this morn'n I were feel'n pretty spry. Hop skip'n down the hallway to brew me up a pot. It were 76 degs outside, nary a breeze blow'n. Oh hell yeah, we gonna go play some golf. I sit's down in front this computer with a fresh cup....an' something move back there. There goes a good golf game.

Ok, since we on the subject of MRIs an' back surgery an' stuff like that, for the last two week I been research'n. Why I been research'n??? Well, I'll tell ya why. I want to get some of my life back. I been think'n "seriously" bout get'n something done with my poor old broke down back. Gonna have to be something what don't take long to heal an' no bed time. Who gonna take care of the old Billy Bob while he lay his ass up in a bed for a week or two??? I would starve slap to death.

Laser surgery. Ya read all bout it on the internet. Advertisements everwhere.... the Laser Spine Institute.  First off, it cost two time what regular ol' scalpel hands on surgery costs. Most insurance will not cover laser surgery. Nine out of 10 neurosurgeons do not recommend laser surgery over conventional surgery. Now I ain't say'n that laser surgery ain't the way to go, but do ya some research. See what professional doctors have to say bout it. Read the reviews. Read bout the law suits against these "advertising" laser surgery clinics. What ever ya do, get that second opinion before ya rush into anything.