DANCING! DANCING! DANCING!

dancing        dancing        dancing
        for it is May.       and
the tomatoes           are planted.  

anticipating       yum yum
    ripe tomato slices       
                    on bologna sandwiches
red ripe juicy     tomato slices
       covered with cottage chess
salt and pepper

anticipating       yum. yum
  homemade tomato soup
        salsa          with jalapenos
healthful veggie soup
          and corn bread

O, I nearly weep      to think
       I lived twenty years
on this earth.    with no tomato plants

that is.     until I discovered
                          Earth Boxes

O ripe tomatoes
             O the lycopene
                       O the energy
O the sharpness of mind
            O the creativity
                        O the quick step
O the love of life
             O the ability to write
                         O the rosy look

tomatoes.    one of the five best foods

yes.       my tomatoes are in
       ten plants to reach six feet tall
               and I can read poetry
in their shade 
         all the while.  wearing my 
Willie Nelson straw hat     and smelling
               the tomatoes

dancing        dancing.       dancing
   (albeit with a cane....)
the neighbors will see me
            and not thinking of tomatoes
will say

"wonder what he is drinking...."

ah, life is good
                dancing.    dancing


********30******
BY MIL
4/29/14




Sent from my iPad

CONVAIR B-36 PEACEMAKER

by Richard Drake, Guest Writer

Convair B-36 Peacemaker

The B-36 was the airplane that impressed me the most in my early years.  It was built by Convair Aircraft originally intended for long range usage against Nazi Germany, but did not make it into that war.  It was an very large airplane with a wing span of almost 230 feet, as I remember.  It was powered by six Pratt and Whitney engines mounted so the propellers pushed the plane.  On one vacation Marcia and I stayed at a motel in the flight path of Carswell Air Force Base.  Sitting by the pool we could see these large planes very low directly overhead.  The sound from the engines was awe inspiring.  The bomber was phased out shortly after this time.  We may have seen some of the last ones taking off from this field.

One of my early stories from the late 1950's involved a B-36 landing at Kirkland Air Force Base. My job required me to fly to Los Alamos frequently.  This was always an exciting trip in small twin engine planes. The Los Alamos air strip was very short in length and had been built on top of a mesa.  With the extremely high thermal updrafts during the summer months, the pilot had to aim the aircraft directly at a point about 50 to 60 feet below the mesa rim and use the air currents to lift the plane over the edge.  If the pilot attempted a normal approach, updrafts would make the landing approach too high for the limited stopping distance.  On my first trip, I sat in the co-pilots seat so I had a front row view of the landing.  I must confess it scared the "willies" out of me.  On the take off the plane would be catapulted into the air as if it were on a rocket. The saying at the time was that it 
would be a good idea to check your underwear upon entering the terminal. 

On one windy day, in late March, my return flight to Albuquerque was very bumpy with the high winds. As we approached our pilot was instructed to go into a holding pattern while a B-36 in front of us made a landing.  We circled in a holding pattern and watched the graceful turn of the big bomber as it made its way slowly to the landing point.  It was a beautiful thing to watch and then all of a sudden it appeared that something fell off the bottom of the aircraft.  There was a big puff of dirt on the lower slope of the mountains to the east of Sandia Base.  The B-36 continued its graceful landing and taxied off to its hanger location. We speculated that part of a landing gear had fallen off.

We finally landed and I caught my ride to work at the Sandia Laboratory.  As I walked in to my office building, the Health Physics Building, I found a state of feverish activity.   I quickly learned that a bomber, while landing at Kirkland, had accidently dropped a nuclear weapon. Search parties were being organized and the Health Physic staff would have the lead role in finding the weapon. I immediately realized what we had seen during our landing and told my boss that I knew where  weapon had landed.  I was directed to lead the search teams to the location.  We quickly found the site and determined that the weapon was intact and no radioactive material had escaped the weapon housing.

Later we were told that the cause of the accidental release of the weapon was the result of a human engineering design flaw in the aircraft control systems.  The lever that locked the bomb release mechanism was located next to the bomb release lever.   The officer in charge had pushed the wrong lever.  An emergency retrofit of all of the B-36 aircraft was immediately preformed.  

We were also told that the air force officer who had dropped the weapon was a civilian at the end of that day.

Richard Drake, guest writer
for Mil's Place
5/10/14

MY FIRST BREAKFAST STEAK

WHO HAD EVER HEARD OF...
   A BREAKFAST STEAK?
*********************************

The year was circa 1963. I was in a revival
with Dr. John Parrott at FBC, Silver City, N.M.
At the time, I was director of Church Music
for the Baptist Convention of New Mexico,
and Dr. Parrott was pastor at FBC, Roswell,
N.M.

I had already worked with Dr. Parrott
in a cowboy camp meeting at Elk, N.M. and in a
revival at Socorro. (Three more were to follow,
making a total of six, and he was pastor at a music
camp.)

Over the years, in sixty-three revivals, I worked
with many fine preachers. John Parrott was one
of my favorites. He was brilliant, succinct, had a
good delivery, and was a deeply spiritual man.

An interesting experience occurred there at the
Silver City revival. Revivals can vary in their
schedules, etc. but they almost all had morning
services. Many folks do not realize the wear and
tear they present to the revival team, who are
"performing" in a sense twice a day.

At this revival, the morning service was at eight a.m.
so some working people could come. That was
pretty early to get the old singing and preaching
voices unlimbered, so to speak.

Early in the week, maybe on Monday morning,
John said he was going to preach his "When
The Wall Crumbles" sermon, about the upsets
and vicissitudes of life. I had heard it before---
a good sermon!

So I selected for a solo:
"When the storms of life are raging,
Stand by me...
When the world is tossing me
Like a ship upon the sea...
Thou who rulest wind and water
Stand by me."

After the early morning services, we were
starved and hurting for that first cup of coffee,
(unless we were able to grab one cup some-
where along the way.)

A fine older widower had asked for the
job of taking John and me every morning to
this little nice little cafe on Main Street for
breakfast, at his expense. I can't recall his
name. He was a fine, gentle Christian man.

We three sat at a table, and the waitress brought the
menus. I saw the "two eggs, bacon, ham, or
sausage," at $1.65 per plate. According to my
spending habits back in those days, that seemed
plenty to spend.

Our host said: "Now you guys, get anything you
want on the menu." John studied it a moment
and asked: "Anything, you mean it?" "Yes,"
said our host.

In a few moments John said (and surprised me):
"I think I'll have the steak and eggs!" (It was about
$3.95 as I recall. Remember, this was 50 years
ago.)

I said something like: "Well, John, I hate to admit it
but I have NEVER had steak and eggs for breakfast.
I think I might try it. Make mine the same."

John said: "Not a Sunday morning goes by, that I
don't eat steak and eggs when getting ready to
preach at my Roswell church. I need the strength."

Well, my reader, I can't remember for sure, but
I think we had steak and eggs several mornings
that week. An interesting experience...

Food wasn't our main purpose there however.

It was our job to tell of the matchless love of
Jesus Christ in sermon and in song...hoping
someone in our audience would pray:
"Yes...forgive me Jesus, and let it be recorded
in heaven and earth."

(Dr.John Parrott went on to become a seminary
professor.)

*******30*******
BY MIL
5/06/14

THE PIANO TUNER

Bong....bong....bong...ping....ping

Dong....dong......bing bing bing...

The piano tuner is here
    I am drinking coffee
at my writing desk
    and listening.

After forty-five minutes...
    ding...ding......ding
He's still at it.

The tones all sound just alike
    to me, tho' I'm a musician--
(I did think I heard an A-flat
    awhile ago.)

I'm not sure what all this repetition
    tells him
but he is getting the piano
    back in tune.

Now I read a lot of poetry
    since I got older and wiser (?)

I read Emily Dickenson
    I read Marianne Moore
         I read William Carlos Williams.

and it might be said that I am a
    voracious reader of books.

but these poets, with the exception
    of Williams are almost impossible
to understand.

There is a truth I have learned---

The brilliant metaphors of poetry
    the alliterations
the onomatopoeic sounds
    new, unknown words
words not often heard
    unusual speech patterns.

and even meanings not grasped
    or perceived---

like the sounds of the piano tuner---

all these things smooth out
     the wrinkles and bumps
in my thoughts...

and they tune my mind.

*******30******
BY MIL
5/02/14

THE LAMENT OF THE OLD FISHERMAN

THINKING BACK OVER LIFE....
      AND FISHING....
********************************

Sitting here by the old pond
    this beautiful spring day,
I'm thinking back over life
    and all the fishing I have done---
and my hook is in the water!

The Lord knew in his vast wisdom
    when He planned all creation
that man would need time and spaces
    to rest his soul...and think,
escaping from the burning of the
    noontide heat
and the burdens of the day.

Now, at my age...
    The trails are getting longer
around the ponds,
    The rods seem to be heavier
and harder to cast,
    The eyes on those small hooks
seem to be getting smaller;
     The worms are wigglier and 
harder to put on the lines,
     Tying my beautiful flies, I am
sometimes all thumbs!
    Yet the "Rio Grande King" is as
beautiful as ever--- and my heart
     still jumps to see it.

My Levi's have holes in the knees now,
    (Guess I finally got in style!)
The sole of my right fishing boot
    flaps a bit;
Sometimes I get tired of
    peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!

But, ahhh....can't complain---
    The sky is blue and the sun
           is shining...
       The air is pure and fresh
            The little birds are singing
                The hawks are soaring
                    on unseen air currents,
                       keeping watch...

There is an old turtle over there by the bank
    creeping along...
and in no hurry...
    (We can learn from him.)

The big white thunderheads are boiling up
    out toward Melrose...
As I study them, I seem to see
    far over them...and into forever....
Where an old fisherman can fish endlessly,
    and throw them back...
There will be plenty of trout and they
    will always be biting
in the eternal morning.

After all, our earthly ponds are just a small 
    sample of Heaven, aren't they?

Bob Snipes and Richard Drake

*****30*****

     Mil
5/09/14

(MIL's Note: When I got Bob's letter today,
saying: "The trails are getting longer around
the ponds...the rods seem to be heavier..."
I was hooked!)

BISCUITS AND GRAVY!

AND OTHER MARVELOUS BREAKFASTS!
***********************************************

If a big group of men in our country were to
be surveyed, and asked: "What is your
favorite breakfast?"---there would likely be
many answers.

It is almost certain, however, that one of the
men's choices right at the top would be:
"Biscuits and gravy!" It is a real man-style
breakfast, particularly with some bacon or
sausage included!

Matter-of-fact, I myself have the reputation
of making pretty mean gravy, using one of
these envelopes of white country gravy mix,
and adding some special touches---which
will remain secret!

My mother made the best biscuits and gravy
in the world, using her own "from scratch"
biscuit recipe and scraping the brown up in
the bottom of the skillet and adding flour and
milk. Yes, I know, sounds simple; I've watched
both her and my wife do it, but my gravy made
like that tends to be thin.

So I will stick with my envelope of white gravy
mix and bask in my own fame.

Old timers of my grandad's and dad's generation
loved their breakfasts. It was my dad's favorite
meal of the day, as I have heard him say many
times.

They tended to have breakfasts with not  much
variation---bacon, ham, sausage, pork chops---
and scrambled or fried eggs, occasionally poached---
with toast or biscuits---and sometimes grits or gravy.

In "Mornings On Horseback," a book about Teddy
Roosevelt, his father---every day of his life, after
his morning horseback ride---had a soft-boiled egg
in a little silver holder, and a piece of toast.

When I was in college at HSU, my usual breakfast
was a brownie and coffee in line at the student
center, or often across the street from the campus
at a little cafe, I, being economical, had a bowl of
oatmeal, toast, and coffee for about thirty cents.

Maybe biscuits and gravy hadn't been invented
or was not on the menu, or I didn't know about
it then---or I would have eaten it every day!

Speaking of breakfast habits, the people of the
south have a great dish---GRITS. Grits rivals
B@G in its excellence. Down there the people
like to serve two over-easy fried eggs sitting
in the midst of a large plate of soupy grits---
floating in butter, and salt and pepper. The
pepper must show.

All along the way in the USA, from its earliest
times when the country was two-thirds rural,
as long as there was a fifty pound sack of flour
in the corner of the kitchen, breakfast was at
least guaranteed in the form of pancakes,
corn cakes, flapjacks, waffles, or biscuits.

With the ever-important contributions of the
lowly pig to the country---bacon, ham, sausage---
and the above bread recipes, the farmers and
settlers would buy large buckets of sorghum,
ribbon cane, or maple syrup to complete the
breakfasts (or even suppers) and feed their
large families of six or eight kids.

By the end of the nineteenth century, breakfast
habits were changing. Nutritionists and health
pundits were promoting "cereals" as an answer
to better health. This trend has never ebbed,
and some now say cereals are not healthy for
children, due to high sugar content.

A phenomenon occurred sometime around 1970.
Its origin is cloudy but the "breakfast burrito"
arose and became very very popular, not only
at outdoor events, but at restaurants everywhere,
most notably in the southwest.

The honor roll of modern breakfasts would include
burritos, bagels, croissants, donuts, sweet rolls,
Danishes, cinnamon rolls, brownies, sausage
and egg biscuits, English muffin sandwiches,
French toast sticks, and for a neat, nice, quick
breakfast: Atkins Scrambled Eggs and Sausage
packet. And let's not forget the breakfast buffets.

So wrapping it all up, what are my favorite
breakfasts? Well, just let me say that I love
scrambled eggs just about any time---even
on cold winter evenings. Oh, and I Iike extra-
cheesy scrambled eggs---the more cheese,
the better.

What else? Okay, hmmm...all the above,
although I rarely eat pork sausage now,
in deference to better heart health.

And  there's always...Biscuits and Gravy!

*******30******
BY MIL
5/06/14

A NOBLE BIRD WE HAVE FORGOTTEN

by K. McSorley

ARE BUZZARDS, VULTURES, CROWS,
  AND RAVENS---ALL COUSINS?
    "NEVER!" QUOTH THE RAVEN
********************************************

Now with springtime arriving and all,
    Much talk has arisen
         concerning birds.

The world would be much poorer...
    It is true,
         without its birds!

There must be thousands of species
     of them, truly an
          accomplishment of creation!

Even little nine-year-old Dean, praying
    in my children's choir,
          thought of them;

"Lord, help the world as it goes along,
     and the little birds---
          that they will do nicely. Amen."

Just about everyone is for the birds---
    looks for them, watches them,
         listens to them, and hopes---
              they will do nicely.

Myself---I like them! I love ducks...
   like Green-head Mallards,
        Pintails, Redheads, and
            Mergansers!

Also robins, doves, quail, blue jays,
    meadow-larks, chickadees;
        in fact I never met a
            bird I didn't like.

The thought had not occurred to me
    before, but recently I read that
        there are those in the
            cognoscenti who say:

"The buzzard is a noble bird."

 These knowledgeable folks say that
    buzzards soar and glide on
        the air currents of the globe,

spotting with their keen eyes, the refuse,
     decaying bodies, carnage
          of the world...and ridding
               the planet of it

One bite at a time.

They say these birds are virtual vultures...
    That they are noble, sharing,
         birds---that the discoverer
             is left alone to reap the
                labors of his searching
                   and have a feast.

They point out: not so with egotistic, pushy,
    eagles...who charge right in.
          selfishly, to get their share.

Maybe we need to take a new look at this
     special bird---the buzzard, and give
         him credit due as a sanitation
                       specialist!

I'm willing to be open-minded

     to what's going
 on in the sky, and re-evaluate them.

     Are you?

     Carrion, Buzzards!

----30----
by Mil
May 5, 2014