Given the interest there was in readers wondering about my sanity, booking a cruise with 2,500 kids on board, I thought I would report back to let you know just how everything went and if my sanity is still intact.
Let’s first discuss the positives. No, let’s do the negatives so we can end on a positive note.
The obvious is there were lots of kids, but there were also so many kids’ areas – kids’ pool, kids’ clubs, kids’ games, etc. So, yes, lots of kids, but I never felt they were under foot/in the way.
The food could have been better, much better. There was plenty of it and a good variety, but, based on other cruises, this was below expectations. When we mentioned something about food quality at one of our dinners, the chef came out and explained to us that it was difficult to cook for 5,000 people. Duh!!! Isn’t that what you signed up to do? Isn’t that your job?
The only other disadvantage that I experienced, was when I went back to the ‘adults only’ section of the ship and looked for a place to sit down, by the pool, anywhere on the deck, with a view, any seat! – all were taken. Apparently, a lot of parents were looking for some ‘quiet time’ away from their chaotic kids.
What I liked about the cruise was . . .
The ship, Royal Caribbean’s Ovations of the Sea, was much better than I expected for a large ship with 5,000 passengers. Great layout, lots of restaurants with a variety of cuisines, lots of bars, lots of shops, excellent show venues, did I mention lots of bars?
Lots of things to do, especially for kids, basketball, pickleball, bumper cars, roller skating, rock climbing, surfing, various rides, arts & crafts, arcade, ping pong, etc., etc., etc.
Fun casino that both giveth and taketh away
We had a nice room that allowed all 13 of us to gather a few times
The staff, the Filipinos, were especially nice
Heard the gym was very well equipped.
We didn’t get off the ship in Ensenada
The thing I liked most was that we had our whole immediate family on board with everyone enjoying all the activities and the adults enjoying the kids enjoying all the activities . . . and the drink package!
Some family photos . . .
Grandkids: Dylan, Mac, Addison, Emma & Brooklyn
Original Sparrows: Linda, me, Steph, Jeff & Dana
The Shomers: Dylan, Emma, Steph & Jason
The Borrellis: Dana, Joe, Addison, Mac
Brooklyn, Jeff & Pam Sparrow
Most popular adult ride: Pina Colada
OK, maybe this one’s better
I promised beautiful Emma I’d put a photo of her in the blog.
Well, here we are in the dog days of summer. Ironically, my dog Dooley doesn’t appreciate this time of year. No afternoon walks, no endless sessions of fetch, and no sitting in the sun for hours on end. Although he tries – I have to pick him up off of the synthetic grass after a minute or two, lest he get overheated. His one working brain cell hasn’t figured that part out yet. Yep, it’s the time of year when the “feels like” temperature on my weather app reads like the pre-heat on my oven. In all honesty, our weather this year has generally been at or below normal, a wonderful respite from the last two record-breaking summers. Still, it’s Arizona so it’s hot. These “dog days” typically run from early July to mid-August. In other words, it’s the season when the ice in your glass is gone before you take your first sip, so it’s best to stick with wine.
The dog days of summer require some strategic thinking when it comes to clothing. Anything beyond the bare minimum is an act of heroism – or lunacy. White T-shirts become translucent, denim becomes a form of self-inflicted torture, and flip-flops are appropriate except for black tie events. You know it’s the dog days when you start to consider mesh shorts a formal upgrade. Hats? Only if you enjoy forehead sweat decorating your face. Sunglasses? Absolutely, but only if they don’t slide off your nose and into your (melted) iced coffee.
People told me that Dooley would slow down during the worst of the summer heat; that our walks would become sluggish crawls from one patch of shade to the next, interrupted only by dramatic flops onto cool tile floors. Nope. I take him out at 5:30 every morning and if I didn’t stop him, he’d chase the squirrels and bunnies for hours. Eventually I am able to entice him to join me at the ice machine at our rest stop, where he chomps on crushed ice, and then is raring to go back out. Meanwhile, my pants are stuck to my thighs, and the humidity makes my hair look like I’ve put my finger in a light socket.
I’ve learned that if you can’t beat the heat, it’s best to avoid it. Here are a few tried-and-true strategies for surviving the dog days:
Fill your bathtub with ice and submerge yourself. Bonus points if you can stay under for more than thirty seconds without shrieking.
Perfect your popsicle-to-mouth coordination. (Brain freeze is a rite of passage.)
Befriend your local air-conditioned library. You don’t have to read, but you do have to linger meaningfully near the vents.
Plan elaborate vacations in your mind. The Maldives? Sure, why not?
Convince your friends to have a movie marathon—indoors, with blackout curtains, a mountain of snacks, and a Slurpee machine.
There’s no doubt that the dog days of summer are a test of patience, deodorant, and the limits of your air conditioning unit. But there’s a certain camaraderie in the collective struggle. We’re all in this together—sweaty, sticky, slightly delirious, and counting down the days until sweater weather returns. So next time you find yourself staring longingly at a cloud, hoping for rain, remember: these sultry days are but a fleeting moment. My guess is that Target will have their Christmas decorations up in the next month. Before we know it, we’ll be reminiscing about summer’s warmth as we put another log on the fire and watch Netflix in our down parkas. Until then, wear your sunscreen, laugh at your sweat stains, and give your dog an extra belly rub—after all, these are their days.
Ovation of the Seas – Kids pool with North Star in upper right corner
While we’re on the subject of cruising after reading Suzanne’s blog last week about ‘Senior Cruising’, I thought I would mention that Linda and I will be leaving this Tuesday on what could be called ‘Junior Cruising’. Our three kids, Stephanie, Dana and Jeff, their spouses, Jason, Joe and Pam AND our five grandchildren, Dylan, Emma, Addison, Mac and Brooklyn, will all be boarding the Royal Caribbean ship, Ovations of the Seafor a four-day cruise from L.A. to Ensenada, Mexico and back to L.A.
There will be nearly 5,000 passengers on board, half of them kids, so this is not a cruise for relaxation, in fact there are so many things to do on this ship, that we may not get to them all in the four days we will be on board. Below is a list of activities available to the kids/grandkids, OK, and maybe us too.
Ripcord skydiving
At the SeaPlex, at varying times, one can ride bumper cars, play basketball, volleyball, soccer, go roller skating or attend a circus school with a trapeze.
Go on North Star, which extends 300 feet above the ship for a 360-degree view of the surroundings.
Ripcord is a skydiving simulator the gives the sensation of free falling.
FlowRider is a surf simulator that lets you ride a surfboard or a boogie board on real waves.
Rock Climbing on a simulated rock wall on the side of the ship, safety lines included.
FlowRider
In their spare time, kids can participate in the Adventure Ocean youth program where age-specific activities for Aquanauts (3-5), Explorers (6-8) and Voyagers (9-11), and a Teen Lounge for those ‘older’ kids. There is also an Adventure Science Lab and a fun-filled Water Park, with mini-slides, water cannons, fountains and pools.
In between activities I’m sure the kids will find ‘all-you-can-eat-pizza’ and ‘all-you-can-eat-ice cream shops.
Bumper cars
But the ship also recognizes that adults may need a break and a treat or two, so there is an adult-only section where one can go to get relief from the constant chaos, a casino, where I’ll look for Linda if I can’t find her, a Bionic Bar where your drink is made to order by a mechanical bartender, no tipping just oil him once in a while. There are Broadway-style shows nightly as well as venues with music and dancing – not sure how much dancing I’ll do, but it’s nice to know it’s there in the event I get the urge! There is also a place called Two70, it provides a 270-degree view from the back of the boat. This multi-level lounge transforms from a daytime observation space with panoramic views into a nighttime theater featuring a unique blend of digital art, robotics, and live performances. There are also plenty of restaurants and bars that will help us to maximize our drink package! Oh yeah, there’s also a gym, but don’t expect any photos that might catch us perspiring.
Robotic bar
We’re not sure we want to expose our grandkids to Ensenada at their age, so we’ll probably not get off the boat when we’re in port, but we’ll see, maybe they want to discover what a real Mexican taco tastes like.
That’s all for the cruise preview, if anything happens that’s blog-worthy, I’ll give you an update next time. Until then, wish me luck in keeping my sanity around 2,000 sugar-high kids!
Like many people my age, I spend time thinking about what my next move will be. Sometimes I feel like a tweenager – too young for a retirement community and too old to downsize to a mixed-age neighborhood. But I stumbled upon a unique alternative the other day while reading an online newspaper – move into a cruise ship. Just imagine – waking up each morning to the gentle sway of the sea, sipping coffee on my private balcony as the sun rises over a new horizon, wandering down to a dining room where someone cooks a breakfast to order. Apparently, taking back-to-back cruises has become increasingly popular. People are selling their primary residence, renting a small apartment, and then cruising the world. Some people choose to book consecutive trips on the same ship, while others book different cruise lines to break up the monotony. And one company, Villa Vie, offers “condos” one can buy for a 15-year lease. Fifteen years!!! It visits 147 countries and 425 destinations over a three-and-a-half-year cycle and then repeats. I don’t know about you, but I think I’d kill someone after spending 15 months in such small confines.
Of course, on social media there are many opinions about “retirement cruising”. On the plus side, there is room, board, entertainment, laundry, free Wi-Fi and, of course, travel. On the downside, many suggest that people get “ship happy” confined to such small spaces for a long time. Still others, many who have worked on cruise ships, advise that although every ship has a medical staff, they are not really qualified to handle some of the specialized maladies that confront older people, much less a full-blown emergency. I think one would have to take the attitude that dying on a cruise ship beats many other ways one can leave this mortal coil.
A living room on The World
I was intrigued by the concept of living on a cruise ship, but honestly, I envisioned lots of noisy children, bachelor parties, or, equally dispiriting, hallways lined with wheelchairs. But then I found my ideal ship – The World. The World has 165 privately owned apartments, ranging from 290-square-foot studios to 3,240-square-foot four-bedroom residences. Like many cruises, the ship has multiple restaurants and bars, yoga classes and a gym, two pools, a medical center and round-the-clock room service. Unlike other cruise ships, the owners call many of the shots. They vote on things like the itinerary, they vote for refurbishments on the ship, as well as its board of directors. The World docks in around 100 ports per year, stopping for two to five days, rather than a few hours. Of course, as you might suspect, the cost of such luxury is a bit steep: prices for residences range from $2.4 million to $15 million — a figure which doesn’t include quarterly maintenance fees, which can be around 10% of the purchase price annually. If the price doesn’t deter you, their entrance requirement might trip you up: potential buyers are vetted, and, in addition to financial and criminal checks, buyers need two letters of recommendation from an existing resident. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know even ONE person who has that kind of money to throw around on a ship condo. Or one that would vouch for me, for that matter.
In any event, I’ve ruled out The Worldas a retirement option. Not just because of the expense, but because they don’t allow dogs on board. Now what kind of morons expect you to leave your dog when you buy one of these condos? Apparently very rich ones. I think Dooley and I will keep looking.
With all this talk about tarrifs, recessions, continued high prices, I thought I’d share some information from an article I recently read about the cost of several things being less today than years ago. That was hard to believe, but we’ll examine that later. Generally, prices continue to rise as does income, but mostly not at the same pace. So, I did a little research of my own. I decide to look back to the year 1975. I picked that year mostly because it was easy math to go back 50 years.
In 1975 I was five years into my ten-year teaching career, at Tustin High School. I can’t remember what my salary was in 1975, but I do remember that when I left teaching in 1980 my salary was $19,000, yes, a year! Sounds ridiculously low, but I checked and the average salary in 1980 in all of Orange County was only $21,000.
Average Orange County home in 1975
In 1975, the average income in Orange County was $7,396; while today the average is $136,000 – that’s a growth of 18 times. But, the average price of an Orange County home in 1975 was $41,600, today it is $1.2 million – that’s a growth of 29 times! In 1975 the average home buyer was 29 years old, today it’s 38 years old. If you were going to rent a nice four-bedroom house instead of buy, in 1975 the rent would have been around $400 a month, today, closer to $5,000.
The average price of a new car in 1975 was $4,800 – just take that times 10 to get today average price. OK, I’ll do the math for you – $48,000. The price of everyday goods and services, as measured by the CPI, saw a 586% increase from 1973 to 2023. In other words, ‘Purchasing Power’ decreased; meaning that $13 in 1975 had the same buying power as approximately $83 in 2025.
OK, OK, enough with the numbers, where’s the information about how much cheaper things are today? Here you go . . .
Clothing: In 1975 the average American family spent about 10% to 12% of their household income on clothing. Today, that figure has dropped to around 3%. It’s not because people are buying less, it because more and more clothes come from out of the county, and thus cheaper. Same logic goes for toys that are now cheaper because most are made overseas.
Televisions: A ‘big’ screen TV in 1975 cost around $3,500. Today, a big screen TV with high-definition cost less than $500
Air fares: I only found the rate in 1941 for a fare from L.A. to Boston – $5,000! So, in ’75 maybe it was down to $2,500. Today you can find it for $300-$400
And, finally what you’ve all been waiting for, the price of . . .
Bananas: For those living during the Civil War, bananas were $3 a pound! In 1975 they dropped to .20 and today they are .55 a pound, so while bananas are cheaper than they were during the Civil War, they are more expensive today. But I kept them on the list for those Civil War vets.
So, if you’re looking to save money, go buy clothes to wear as you’re either flying from L.A. to Boston, or watching that new high-definition TV. Eating bananas while doing either is optional.
Remember when you were a kid and a slumber party was a good excuse for a pillow fight? Nothing was as satisfying as landing a blow right to a friend’s noggin, or better yet, the pillow exploding on impact, spewing feathers all over the room. We were unfazed by the knowledge that we would get into trouble and have to clean up the mess. I hadn’t really thought about pillow fights since those long-ago sleep overs, but last week I was scrolling the TV guide looking for something (anything!) worthwhile to watch and saw that ESPN was airing the Pillow Fighting Championship. Wow! Who knew that there was a sport devoted to child’s play, much less that it had ascended to a championship level?
Of course, I had to learn more. As it turns out, like many good (and bad) ideas, the concept of a professional pillow fighting sport stemmed from the COVID-19 pandemic. Two brothers, Paul and Steve Williams came up with the idea during lockdown. One can only imagine two grown men, with little else to do, reverting to their childhood entertainment – bludgeoning each other with pillows. Paul came up with the concept of making pillow fighting into a real sport. Steve was not so sure, but he had a feeling the public was ready for something new. At the time, Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) was having a moment, but the brothers also observed that the market for it was over-saturated, and its sponsorships were beginning to dry up. The brothers concluded that Pillow Fighting Championships would be a good way to capitalize on the popularity of MMA fighting, but without the violence. As Steve said, “The only difference between the PFC and MMA is that no one gets hurt and queasy audience members don’t have to see blood.”
The first event staged by the PFC took place in August 2021. On January 29, 2022, the inaugural Pillow Fight Championship took place in Florida, featuring 16 men and 8 women competitors. Participants engaged in fights using specialized pillows made of foam rather than down. So I guess there weren’t any feathers flying all over the place. The pillows weigh two pounds and have a nylon casing with handles, to allow for fast and hard-hitting movements. Two pounds doesn’t sound like much (after all, last week I dismissed my two-pound weight gain as being insignificant), but I think two pounds coming at you with force could hurt a bit. Or a lot. Fans are given the pillows at the end of each event in an attempt to grow the popularity of the sport. Nothing converts skeptics to fandom like a sweaty pillow.
I was interested enough to look up the rules of the sport, and there are a lot of them. Two of the rules convinced me I am not cut out to be a professional pillow fighter. First, no competitor can stand still for more than three seconds. Wow – it would take me longer than that just to catch my breath. The other rule that would eliminate me from the get-go: no spitting, cursing, or foul language. I could abide by the spitting aspect, but if my language on the golf course is any indication, I think I’d be ruled out of pillow fighting the first time I got pummeled by a pillow. So, another career path off my list. Besides, in the event that took place last Saturday in Reno, all participants had to sign an injury waiver, and the prize money was only $1000. Heck, that would barely pay my deductible at the hospital. Think I’ll stick to my knitting for now.
It’s always tough to follow Suzanne’s heartfelt blog on Memorial Day but follow it I must. I thought I’d talk about old words and thus would elicit some help from Shakespeare, who seemed to be pretty good with words, new and old, given that when he couldn’t think of a word to describe something, he made one up. Yes, it’s true. Here are a few of his made up the words: frugal, gloomy, hurry, accommodations, countless and countless others. What led me to writing about old words was an article I recently read by Jennifer Freeman, Senior Editor atWord Smarts. She listed several words that the ‘baby boomers’ invented and that those people around my age grew up with, and are no longer heard today. Here’s a few of hers, along with some other ‘ancient’ words, with their definition and their use in a sentence, in case you were born after the 60s:
Groovy: Fashionable and exciting; enjoyable and excellent. “That is a groovy tie-dye shirt.”
Foxy: Attractive or sexy; cunning or sly. “You’re looking very foxy tonight”
Hey, that’s copacetic dude!
Bippy: Used euphemistically for an unspecified part of the body; generally understood as equivalent to ‘butt.’ “You bet your sweet bippy” Copacetic: In excellent order. “I’m good, everything is copacetic”
Boogie: To move or leave somewhere fast. “He’s coming after us, we gotta boogie”
Cool Beans: To express approval or delight. “I’m cool beans with those hot beans.”
The Skinny: Confidential information on a particular person or topic. “What’s the skinny with that outfit?”
Doofus: A stupid person. “Don’t be such a doofus!” You could also be called a dipshit or a tool.
Floppy disk
Floppy disk: a thin plastic disk coated with magnetic material on which data for a computer could be stored. “She was disappointed with my floppy disc.” OK, maybe I stretched the definition a little there.
Galivant: To travel, roam or move about for pleasure. “She’s been galivanting all over town.”
Britches: pants. “I’m pulling up my britches and going home!”
Hootnanny: A gathering in which folk signers entertain, often with the audience joining in. “Are you ready to sing at the hootnanny?” Don’t ask what folk singers are; they’re pictured next to the T-Rex in most photos!
Grody: Disgusting and revolting. “He looked really grody!”
Ice box: Refrigerator “You can keep your beer cold by putting it next to her heart or in the ice box”
The Millennials and Gen Z ers would probably responds with, ‘Oh Yeah, well, here’s some words we invented’: Blog, Bitcoin, Clickbait, Enshittification . . .
What?! Enshittification?!!
I was both stumped and fascinated by this word, so I looked it up: The process by which online platforms gradually degrade over time, become less valuable and more annoying. I had the sinking feeling that I was reading about our blog.
Here’s another one: ‘Frenemies’. Older folk don’t use this one, we either liked someone or we didn’t, there was no wishy-washy middle ground.
How about ‘Selfie’? It was unheard of to take a photo of yourself, either you were in the photo or you were the guy with the Brownie camera. Later there were timers on certain cameras, where we could set it on something then run around and get in the photo before it snapped. Those were usually a disaster.
Photobomb – this has a mixed definition of both having someone accidently be in the background of a photo, or purposely spoiling the photo by popping into the background. The latter definition seems more prevalent these days.
Sorry for this ‘word salad’, hopefully I’ll be traveling again soon!
This annual Memorial Day post is written in remembrance of the soldiers from my high school who died in the Vietnam war. I first published this in 2014, and each year since then I hear from people who relate similar stories about the losses suffered in their hometowns or, worse, their families. This Memorial Day please take a moment to remember all of the brave young men and women we’ve lost in conflict.
Five boys from my high school were killed in the Vietnam War. For a small town like Novato, that was an enormous number. We were such a close-knit community that even if we didn’t know one of them personally, we knew a sibling or friend. So when I planned my trip to Washington D.C. last month, I scheduled time to visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial to see their names on “The Wall”.
To refresh my memory, I pulled out my high school yearbooks and found them all – smiling for a formal portrait or posing for a team picture. Each image reflected a boy, fresh-faced and full of hope, his life stretching out before him. I looked at those young faces and found it hard to believe that their lives ended so soon after the bucolic days captured in the photos. None of them reached the age of 22, their dreams extinguished on the battlefield. While we, their classmates, lived long enough to enjoy the internet, smart phones and streaming movies, most of them didn’t live long enough to see color television.
I reflected on the stories I’ve read of WWII vets who speak so reverently of the “boys who didn’t come home”. As I perused the yearbooks, I finally understood their sentiment. It is only when looking back through a 50-year lens that one can appreciate just how young these soldiers were and how many of life’s milestones they missed. So, on this Memorial Day, I’d like to pay tribute to “The Boys from Novato”.
Robert Johnson Bob Johnson joined the Army in the fall of 1965, in what would have been his Senior year in high school. I remember him as a very nice, quiet guy. Before he enlisted, he asked his high school sweetheart to marry him – they wanted something to hang on to while he was gone. His entry into the service occurred just as the war was escalating. He was sent to Vietnam in March of 1966 and three weeks later he was killed by enemy gunfire during “Operation Abilene” in Phuoc Tuy Province. As his former classmates excitedly anticipated their Senior prom and graduation, Robert had already made the ultimate sacrifice. In the 1966 yearbook, where his senior portrait would have been, his mother placed this photo of him in uniform along with a tribute. He was the first Vietnam casualty from Novato.
Mike Tandy
Mike Tandy graduated from NHS in 1965. His sisters, Sue and Sarah also attended NHS. Mike was a good student, who participated in the first swim team our high school fielded. He was an Eagle Scout and according to his friend Neil Cuzner, “he was highly intelligent, a great guy and an excellent scout. He was in the Senior Patrol and a young leader of our troop. He led by example.” After graduation Mike joined the Marine reserves and was called up in January 1966. He was sent to Vietnam shortly after that. On September 8th he was on patrol in Quang Nam with another soldier when his footfall detonated a landmine. He was killed instantly. He had celebrated his 19th birthday just five days prior. His classmates had moved on – either to college or working – but the Tandy family was left to grieve the loss of their son and brother. In 2005 Sarah posted to the virtual Vietnam Wall: “Thanks to all of you who come here and remember Mike. All of our lives were changed, and I thank you for not forgetting.”
Allan Nelson
Allan Nelson played football at College of Marin with my brother, Bob. Allan’s sister, Joanne, was in Bob’s class in high school and his brother, Steve, was in mine. So we were well aware when Allan was drafted into the Army and sent to Vietnam in July 1966 at the age of 20. Five months later, on December 1, we were devastated to learn he had been killed by gunfire during a battle in Binh Dinh Province. I still remember the day Steve came to school after Allan’s death; red-faced with tears streaming down his cheeks. He had always been such a happy guy but was now changed in ways that were hard for his 16-year-old friends to understand. As I look back now, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him to go home from school each day, to face parents who were shattered by grief. Joanne posted the following on a memorial page and perhaps sums it up the best: “Allan was my brother, not just a brother, he was my best friend. All I know is December 1, 1966, was the saddest time for me and my family. My family loved each other so much, but when Al was killed the joy died in my family. Allan had his whole life planned. He had just turned 21 on Oct. 20th. When we were young, he couldn’t wait to be 21. I am so sorry for all the families that lost a son and a brother. It will be 33 years in Dec. The everyday sad feelings of loss are gone but on special days it still hurts.”
Jim Gribbin Jim Gribbin graduated from NHS in 1966. He was on the football team, very active in school clubs and was well-liked by everyone he met. He joined the Army Reserves and when called up, became part of the Special Forces, where he rose to the rank of Captain. He served two tours of duty in an elite MIKE unit. In March 1970 his unit was on a night defensive mission in Kontum Province when they were ambushed by enemy troops. Jim sacrificed his own safety by running into open territory – twice – to aid and retrieve wounded soldiers under his command. He was shot both times and taken to a rear medical facility where he died from his wounds. Ironically, for this affable Irishman, he succumbed on St. Patrick’s Day. He was awarded the Silver Star and the Bronze Star for Valor. Jim’s dad was a veteran of WWII. When he died in 2011, he requested that he be buried in Jim’s grave, with his name and vitals carved on the back of Jim’s headstone. One can only imagine the grief that he carried all those years. Hopefully he is at peace now that they are forever reunited.
In 2018 I was contacted by a woman in New York who signed up for a grueling physical event that honors Vietnam veterans. She chose to represent Jim and wanted to know more about him. You can read my post about her and the event here: https://fromabirdseyeview.com/?p=7111
Wayne Bethards
Wayne “Ed” Bethards was in my graduating class, but I didn’t know him well. His family moved to Novato just before the start of our senior year. His mother, Betty Bethards, was the author of the international best-seller, “The Dream Book”. Again, Neil Cuzner has provided a bit more insight: “Wayne was a good person. He had a great love of baseball and had actually started a small league while over in ‘Nam. He was sharing his love of baseball with the Vietnamese children.” Cuzner went on to say that Wayne was a religious person and did not want to kill anyone; he struggled greatly with his deployment. He was drafted into the Army and was sent to Vietnam in October of 1970. In January 1971, he was killed while on patrol by the accidental detonation of a mechanical device in Quang Tin Province. He was the last boy from Novato High School to die in the war.
Jerry Sims
In April 2017, I heard from a former schoolmate, Dennis Welsh, about Jerry Sims, a boy who died in the conflict whose hometown was listed as Novato. I found in my research that sometimes the Novato “hometown” designation was for those affiliated with Hamilton Air Force Base, not graduates of Novato High School. Since there were no records of Jerry at NHS, I assumed he was from Hamilton, but that was not the case. Dennis told me that Jerry moved to Novato from Texas in the Spring of 1966 to live with his sister. He tried out for the football team during spring training and made the squad. But despite that automatic inclusion into a social group, he was unhappy living in California and being the “new kid” going into his Senior year. Dennis said that he never saw him again after football tryouts and didn’t learn of his fate until he spotted Jerry’s name on “The Wall”. After some research I learned that after Jerry left Novato in June 1966, he joined the Army and was sent to Vietnam in November. On February 6, 1968, he and several others in his unit were killed by small arms fire in Gia Dinh province. Jerry was 19 years old. His former platoon leader wrote this on his memorial page: “I was Jerry’s platoon leader on the day he died. He didn’t have to be there, since he had a job elsewhere in Vietnam, but he requested a transfer. He had already spent a year with the Wolfhounds, but for reasons all his own, he wanted to come back to this unit. He died doing his job as a squad leader in my platoon.” It would seem Jerry finally found his home – and some peace – with his Army brethren.
Jim Wright
Update May 2022: Each year this annual tribute receives a lot of viewings around Memorial Day. This year I was fortunate to hear from Bill Sauber, a 1966 graduate of NHS, who told me of another NHS connection: Jim Wright.
Jim celebrated his 18th birthday in January 1966 and was drafted into the Army shortly thereafter. I suspect that he had dropped out of school, as he was in his sophomore year in the spring of 1966, so would not otherwise be eligible for the draft. After basic training he was sent to Vietnam in May as part of the 27th Infantry, known as the Wolfhounds. On November 5, 1966, he was killed by enemy gunfire in Darlac province. He posthumously received a Silver Star. His official records indicate that by the time Jim died, his father was not living in Novato, his mother could not be located, and he had married a woman named Linda. It is hard to imagine that in the space of one year Jim celebrated his 18th birthday, was drafted, married, and ultimately, killed. As with Bob Johnson and Jim Gribbin, he lies at rest in Golden Gate National Cemetery. I am hopeful that someone reading this post knew him and can provide more insight into his time at Novato High School.
When I visited “The Wall” I found the boys from Novato, each name etched on that long expanse of granite. I thought about their families and the sorrow they endured. It was overwhelming to realize that sorrow had been replicated 58,286 times. Each of the names on that black, shiny surface represent a family forever destroyed. As I walked along the pathway, I looked at all of the mementos that were left as tributes to the fallen – notes, flowers and flags mostly. But then I spotted something different – a tribute from Jim Dart to his brother, Larry. It was a Kingston Trio album, along with a note about the good times they shared learning the guitar and singing songs together. I was overcome with emotion reading Jim’s note. My brother, Bob, owned that same album. He and his best friend, Don, often entertained our family playing their guitars and singing songs from that record. Bob was a Naval officer in Japan during the Vietnam war and was safely returned to us. I wept as I stood looking at the album, realizing that but for the grace of God – and military orders – how easily it could have been Bob’s name on that wall and me leaving a Kingston Trio album in his memory. I can’t imagine our family without his presence all of these years. I ached for Sue and Sarah and Joanne and Steve and all the other siblings who never got to see gray hair on their brothers’ heads; their family gatherings forever marred by a gaping hole where their brothers should have been. When I stooped down to take the photo, I noticed that several other visitors had stopped to look at it too. As I glanced at those who were of a certain age, I could see my own feelings reflected in their eyes. We know how much of life these boys missed. We mourn their loss – and ours.
A wide-eyed “Wow” was my most-used word last week on our trip to South Carolina, where we visited old friends and previous next-door neighbors, Dave & Sharon McKinley. The McKinley’s moved next door to us in 1986 and moved out in 1990; I guess it took them a few years to realize that moving next to us was a big mistake. Dave, now retired, was a brilliant business leader who dressed for success and was very, very successful! He is someone that anyone would want to work for or with – just a standup guy! Sharon was a stay-at-home Mom to Jocelyn and Dusty , and is now the ‘Hostess with the Mostess’ and a gourmet cook. They are both trim and fit. Early Saturday evening, they picked us up at the airport and took us to downtown Greenville; its name is well deserved as there is greenery wherever you look. The fact that they get 51 inches of rain a year, might be a factor. We even experienced a little of that while we were there. It was my first time in this bucolic Southern city, which the Reedy River runs through in spectacular fashion; and because it was a Saturday night, the main downtown street was cordoned off so that merchants could set up their tents and offer their wares – everything from masterpieces to moonshine. A street band was playing some great music as we walked to dinner. We ate at a restaurant called Soby’s, where I acted like I belonged there and ordered a combo plate of grits, shrimp, corn and crabcake along with a local brew. Actually I just ordered what Dave ordered.
McKinley house – back
McKinley house – front
My first real ‘Wow’ came when we arrived at the McKinley Mansion in 6 Mile, South Carolina. It is spectacular! It is built on a forested lot on man-made Lake Keowee. Actually, it could have been built on two lots as they bought the one next to them so no one would build there and spoil their view. Their home is a little over 8,000 square feet, 12,000 if you count the covered porches on both levels of the home. The kitchen has every modern convenience imaginable and there is a ‘grandkids bedroom’ with bunk beds and amenities that would make any grandkid want to move in permanently. The recreation room has a pool table, a shuffleboard table, a big screen TV and lots of comfortable couches. There’s another bedroom on the third floor which also houses Dave’s art studio; he’s quite an artist. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the house has an elevator and a bookshelf that opens into a hidden ‘safe room’. I’m sure I missed lots of stuff, but you get the idea. The home is elevated from the lake, so there is a beautiful, winding stone path, past a sitting area with a circular stone firepit, to their dock and boat. It is a spectacular property!
Lake Keowee – see small arrow left of the compass to locate McKinley house
Sunday morning we got on their boat (I don’t know boats very well, so I can’t tell you the make and model, but, surprise, it was very nice!) We did a tour of the lake, well, only a partial tour, it’s 26 miles long! Dave said that we would be embarrassed to come back to their home once we saw the really spectacular homes on the lake. We obviously weren’t embarrassed, but I have to say, it provided me with my next several “Wows!” I’ve seen a lot of magnificent lake homes in my day, both here and abroad, and in my opinion, no place could match this. I suppose that’s part of the reason why people like golfers Jack Nicklaus and Matt Kuchar, and Oprah Winfrey, Kevin Costner, ex-NFL quarterback, Dan Marino, Darius Rucker, Bill Murray and many other celebrities are all rumored to have property on this lake.
Whitewater Falls
We retuned home for lunch (delicious!) and drove to a park with amazing walking paths, one of them leading to my favorite type of scenery in nature, waterfalls. I think I’ve mentioned how magnificent the greenery is around here, but . . . yes, lots of “Wow!” moments occurred as we reached Whitewater Falls (the photo doesn’t do it justice).
We returned home in time to get ready to go to the club house of one of the seven golf course they belong to, for Mother’s Day dinner. Not surprisingly, the views of the golf course and surrounding greenery was amazing and the food was delicious!
Biltmore Estate
Monday was supposed to be a day to play golf, but the weatherman said we were going to get some of those 51 inches of liquid sunshine. So, Plan B was to visit the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina, about a 90-minute drive from 6 Mile. The Biltmore was built by George Vanderbilt in 1897, after he purchase 125,000 acres to create a country estate that would include a working farm. It is the largest privately owned home in America at 178,926 sq. ft. of floor space. Paintings by Renoir, Whistler, Monet and many other artists are displayed in this four-story plus basement home. It remains one of the most prominent examples of Gilded Age mansions, and provided lots of “Wows” throughout our several hours tour of the home and grounds. I could go on and on, I’ll just say if your ever back that way – go see it!
Back to McKinley’s humble abode for another of Sharon’s gourmet dinners and a delicious dessert that I had not only had never had, but had never heard of, Semifreddo. “Wow! I got the recipe!
It was a most amazing trip to a beautiful place to reconnect with great old friends. I have reported back to the neighbors who knew the McKinley’s when they lived here, that they seem to be doing just fine!
Several days ago, I caught the virus that has been circulating for months. I had dodged the dreaded “flu” since last fall and was convinced that my immune system was ironclad. Apparently, I was wrong. For the first few days I chalked it up to allergies – after all, I just had allergy testing that showed I am allergic to pretty much everything that is in bloom right now. But when my throat began to look like raw hamburger and my chest felt as if an elephant had taken up residence, I knew it was more serious. I know the drill – lots of fluids and rest. The fluids’ part was easy but trying resting with a four-month-old puppy. Both Dooley and I reached the limits of our patience in the last week. I’m sure he was wishing he had been adopted by a hardy twenty-something.
Nevertheless, because I needed my energy during the day, my goal was to get as much sleep at night as possible. I looked in the medicine cabinet and saw I still had some NyQuil, but probably not enough to last more than a day or two. So last Monday I did what one does when you’re sick and live alone…I ordered cough medicine from Amazon, with same-day delivery before 4 pm. I tracked the delivery mid-afternoon and saw that the delivery person was in the neighborhood across the road. The app indicated I was blessedly just five stops away. I waited for the package…and waited…and waited. When I checked the app again it said, “We have lost communication with our delivery person but don’t worry, your package is still on the way.” Okay, cell service can be sketchy in my area, so I didn’t think anything of it. But by 6 pm, when there was still no package, and the same message appeared, I began to suspect that my Mucinex was not coming. Thankfully, I dug around in my medicine cabinet and found an unopened box of NyQuil that miraculously was not out of date. By 9 pm the app indicated that something had gone wrong and I could cancel the order if I wished. How about you deliver the package, Amazon???
By Tuesday afternoon there was still not a whisper from Amazon as to where my package was or whether they were sending a replacement. So now, I don’t feel well and frankly, I am not pleasant when I’m sick, so I go on the Amazon app and ask them to call me. Five minutes later a customer service rep calls me, and I relayed my problem. I can barely speak and coughed like a seal in her ear, so she could tell I was someone who definitely needed medicine. Although she might have thought Xanax was a better choice after listening to my rant. In any event, she tells me she is on the case…and then puts me on hold. She came back after about ten minutes and said that the package had been lost in transit. LOST??? It was across the road and five stops away!!!! Was the driver highjacked? Did an Amazon Blue Origin Spaceship come down and spirit it away?
She calmly explained to me that she was only a front office person and really couldn’t tell me exactly how my package was lost. She placed another order for me and told me she would schedule it for overnight delivery. I asked that she not do that, as I can’t begin to count the landscape lights that have been victim to Amazon drivers trying to navigate out of my twisty driveway. “No problem,” she said, “I’ll schedule it for tomorrow mid-day.” Of course, I woke up Wednesday morning at 5:30 to find the package at my front door.
Maybe Bezos should spend a little less money sending celebrities into space and a bit more in delivery efficiency. As you can tell, I’m still crabby.
