Mr. Delicious Chapter 2

That’s me on the left with my best friend Sandy. 1978

Mr. Delicious Lives With Me

( Read Chapter One HERE)

Chapter Two

We Dated

After a few good trips to the lips, we drove back down the mountain to the real world. You might say we were physically off the mountain but I still had my head in the clouds. We’d had a really good first date and it seems as though I had survived the exchange of passion. Well almost unaffected you could say but it had left me with a taste for more.

All my outfits were planned for the next couple of hundred dates. Sandy was amused as I was suddenly aware of every pimple and mole that flawed my size 7 body.  Would the phone ring again or would I be left to suffer for the rest of my life. Sandy remarked that I probably didn’t have long to live.

Life went on for a few days and somehow I managed not to set the flight line on fire or crash any planes. The jobsite was riddled with all kinds of dangers. You have to be careful where you walk or you could end up a spec of dust strewn across three states and two continents. We had seen the safety briefings on things that got sucked in to the intake of a jet.

I was lovesick in the worst way. I was certainly paying better attention to clean teeth and other such hygiene. You just never know where there might be some sort of chance meeting. I wasn’t going to be caught at the baseball field again unprepared.

But the days turned in to a week and no call. Some irritating guy called later that week and out of desperation I agreed to go out with him. Poor thing. My heart was already taken. Come to think of it his life is probably hugely more successful cause we never went out. Mr. Delicious called me that same day and I blazed a trail to his side. I could not have Mr. D’s children without Mr. D.

We were two poor people who took advantage of eating at the chow hall for most meals. This was our date routine. Steak night was our favorite. But you know, Mr. D is a jealous sort of person. I would never figure that as he is much more confident than I. The first I heard of it was after about the 5^th date to the chow hall and he sat me facing the wall.

Why the heck would he insist I sit facing a wall and he facing the window? I learned it’s cause I’m so dang outgoing. I would talk to everyone who came by. I guess if you live on a base with mostly guys then most of your friends are guys. It wasn’t bothering me any. Evidentially, it bothered MrD. We got in our first fight over it. He won. He always wins right? I mean, when does the woman really win?

Our dating was nothing ordinary. I worked the 3-11 shift and he the 8-5. He stayed up till I got off at 11 and we’d exchange pleasantries until about 3am when he’d nod off and drop me off at my dorm. I was always thankful he made it safely home. No one drives well while snoring.

I worked hard in the blazing sun and high temps. I came home dirty, tired, no make-up, stinky, covered in jet fuel, hydraulic fuel, grease, desert grime, and just plain messed slap up. He worked in the hospital! He wore whites, was always clean, smelled heavenly, never had bugs in his teeth, and was cool-calm-and collected. We were opposites. We adored each other.

The Williams Air Force Base women’s softball team traveled to other states and we played professional women’s teams from other cities and other branches of the service. My commander had assigned me this duty after seeing how well I could pitch. He allowed me to have time off my job to practice and attend games. It was a very good life. I did not mind the job or the play. Both were taken seriously.

We were hard to beat and I pitched many a no hitter. It was really cause we had a wicked infield. And nothing got past the outfield. I couldn’t take MrD with me on those trips but it just made our passion grow stronger. He didn’t mind my athletic ability. He came to some of the games and I showed him off. He was an excellent short stop for the hospital team and I was nuts about his physique in those ball pants. So we pretty much admired each other’s ability to play ball or more importantly what we looked like as pitcher and short stop.

When we first starting dating, he was seeing some hussy who will remain nameless as I still don’t like her.  She was cute and really more like him than I. But she wanted to be courted and I wanted to be with his heart. I won cause she was stuck up and I looked better in a ball uniform. She didn’t even play. I bet she’s not even living any more cause hard times probably caught up with her. I bet she lost her will to live after MrD was gone. I don’t care.

In the heat of the moment, we decided to take a trip to the Verde River and camp. I could not believe my good luck. Yes, it was not really that right for us to go off alone on a camping trip and not married.  At that time, I was after him and he me and we didn’t care what anyone thought. We had both had a very hard childhood and both sets of parents were 3,000 miles away. My father wanted me to get married at 15. He said all women need to be barefoot and pregnant by the time they are 16.

So we camped up by the Verde River and a good time was had by all. He wore a fraternity shirt that was well worn and so attractive. He went to college and sowed his oats long before I met him. He and I weren’t sowing oats, we were preparing the soul. By the time we marveled at the chilly water and fought off the skeeters, I was wearing that shirt.

And one day not too long after that—–we went to The Grand Canyon to camp and boy was it grand. Stay tuned!

Happy Easter

Happy Easter to everyone. My family is with me this weekend and it is really a blessing. When your kids grow up and are off on their own, you really do value time together. I’m reading your replies and enjoying them.

Basic Training For Women

You wouldn’t believe who taught me to wear make-up. This is me in the 11th grade and the year I joined the Air Force. It was 1975/76 and I was born in 1958. My parents had to sign for me to go in the Air Force cause you had to be 18 to join. I was living in a one horse town and had no future. I was looking for a way out. That one horse we had was your choice of being a furniture factory owner or working at one.

My father was the owner of a furniture factory and I had all of it I could stand in one lifetime. I am glad to be back in NC now and living not too far from where I grew up. But at that point in my life back when I knew all the answers, I wanted adventure.

It was off to basic training with all my suitcases—–

I’m really glad we got the clothes on the line in that picture above. I was off on a journey that would  be more remarkable than I can tell you in one sitting. You wanted to know who taught me how to wear make-up, right?

Above is a very secure moment in my pre- Air Force days when I thought  pant suits were hot. I wasn’t wearing make-up. I was 15ish and that’s my blue American Motors Javelin in the background. That was a funny car. The high beams wouldn’t work at all. I sold it to another Airman for $1,500 at my first duty station. He later cussed me out cause I didn’t tell him the lights went completely out when you hit the button in the floor board to switch them to high beams. I laughed of course. If I sell you a car, check your high beams.

See that big building behind me? That is our garage. My dad built that for my brothers. He said it would keep them out of trouble. Now that depends on how you spell trouble in my family. It did work to keep them off drugs. It did help them to make good grades. But they built a few bad tush race cars in there and refurbished a model T tractor.

This brings us to my qualifications to join the Air Force. I hung with my brothers and learned my way around a tool box. I could look at a set of wrenches and tell you what bolt it would fit. I could torque a bolt and fine tune a carburetor back before the new fuel injected ones came along. My brothers could tell a lot of good stories and like I have told ya’ll before, if you became invisible you could learn a lot about life. I learned a lot about race cars and engines just by being a member of the family. I’ve driven a 454 4 barrel and blow the skeeters off my windshield. That’s something no car wash can do.

In 1975/76 the government decided to cave to the women’s right movement which I was glad to welcome. My dad had told me to find a man and get married cause he wasn’t wasting his time or money putting a woman through college. I am my dad’s child and didn’t accept that. My dad was very smart and I can say almost brilliant inventor type business man. He had lots of faults with one being women and alcohol. He was also extremely prejudice and I never developed a taste for alcohol or prejudice. It was part of what drove me away from the South.

I left my dog………

I left these friends. I’m on the bottom left. I left the chance to take my team to victory in the state debate competition. One of my National Forensic League classmates would write…………

Don’t ever argue with me as you will not win. I have been trained to win and make you run tail tucked to your own grave. I also acted, played on the varsity softball and volleyball teams. And my favorite thing of all….I left……

Cheerleading. I left the varsity squad in 11th grade to tour the USA with the USAF. I would look back and question my decisions. I don’t regret them now but there were some homesick days that I wondered if I’ve made the wise decision. I’m proudly the one in the back to the right of the Indian. I’m the one holding up one of my very best friends. I’m the only white girl in the trio.

This is me a couple of months later. I’m in shock. I have just completed basic training where my very foundation was rocked. I’m no longer the cheerleader, the debator, the race car driver, the little girl, or the small town girl. I am confident, trained, toned, disciplined, and courageous. I am ready for Technical school. Oh, I forgot to tell you how the Air Force allowed me in to begin with.

In 1975/76, the government answered the plea of the Women’s Liberation Organization and let women in to non-traditional career fields. When the government makes policy changes, they must meet quotas to fulfill those commitments. The needed women. They needed women to be in the roles traditionally held by men. First, you had to take a qualification test just as you do today. You must have a high school diploma and be an upstanding citizen of the USA. I was all but one of what they were looking for. I didn’t have a high school diploma.

When I left 11th grade to follow my dreams, I left without a diploma. At that time, you could graduate early if you took the classes needed to graduate at a local community college. So I did. In three months, I took senior English, a math, and a science. The test was passed and the diploma received. My parents and I presented it to the AF recruiter and he needed me to pass the mechanics test required at that time. Piece of cake really. Lots of questions about what wrench was used where and a short bit about electronics. No problem and the recruiter did a happy dance. I was in! Check me off the quota sheet as I have arrived.

Now this next bit of information has never ever been told and you are the first to hear. I didn’t pass the requirement to lift 75lbs over my head. Why did I get in then?….cause they needed me and I looked strong. When I got to Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio Texas, they administered a test as the final step to enter the field of flight-line mechanics. They sent me in to a room with no one in it. In fact, there wasn’t anything in it but a set of weights weighing 75lbs and me.

When I came out of the room, the ask me if I lifted the weight over my head. At 17 and hoping to conquer the world, you say yes and know you just snookered the government. We all winked and I entered 6 weeks of torture. Wondering all the time if I could go back and try that 75lbs again. This time I’d say—are you nuts–that’s 75lbs for fricking sake. I’m 110lbs soaking wet. Are you nuts—was I nuts.

They had no clue what to do with us non-traditional women. They didn’t know if we needed feminine products or tissues. They didn’t have the proper uniforms. The first three weeks of basic training we wore the women’s uniform of that time. We had a light blue shirt and navy blue cotton trousers. We looked pretty and I loved that uniform. We were sent off to make-up classes;) and taught how to wear our hair. Gosh we were drop dead gorgeous.

That didn’t last as the Air Force knew our jobs would rip those clothes to shreds. Here came green fatigues and combat boots. I kid you not….I was in the first graduating class from basic training to wear combat boots. They had to special order many of our boots cause we all wore a size 4 mens. For the last three weeks of training, we wore those hot fatigues and we no longer went to make-up school. We looked trained but not so pretty. Looks like they could have figured out how to be pretty and prepared. Maybe they do that now. Times have changed since 1976.

We marched, marched, marched until our combat boots rubbed blisters on our feet and we kept on marching. We fainted from the heat. We lived all 50 of us in one room without killing each other. We learned to bounce a quarter on the bed, learned to skin our knuckles on the bed springs making it happen. We learned to survive the obsticle course and run our designated distance in the time they needed—I think.

We graduated lean, strong, victorious, proud, and finally beautiful. All 50 of us went in different directions off to train in the non-traditional roles we had been assigned. We would face more challenges but had survived basic training and could meet those challenges too. We did! We met them and exceeded. My technical training was long. I learned how to maintain and operate 75 pieces of equipment.

I thought technical school was a breeze except for the bitter cold. Why do you people live where there is frozen fog? Are you nuts? My final destination on the journey was Williams AFB, in Phoenix AZ. But to get there, I had to go through 8 months of Chanute AFB, Rantoul Illinois. Go fighting Illini! But boo hiss to the bitter cold. This NC gal will not be going back to reminisce about the good old days in Illinois. I made it and excelled cause excelling was directly un-predicting what my dad had foretold to happen. I was going to be a success if it killed me. I would show him.

I had to learn how to put out fires in case an airplane or piece of equipment spontaneously combusted and the fire department called in sick. Good thing I didn’t get in the AF on my fire fighting ability cause I could not move in all this garb. I forget what it weighed with the boots on? but I nearly fell over and then they handed me the hose. So I stood by the fire truck with the hose still attached to the engine so they could snap the picture for the government. The government needed to see I could fight fires.

Then I got to Williams AFB, in Gilbert Higley Arizona on the outskirts of Phoenix. You can read about my arrival on my sidebar under Mr. Delicious. This is my room mate Sandy. Sandy talked me in to playing softball for the base women’s team. I made it and was the primary pitcher. I was good at picthing cause they needed one and women at that time in the AF didn’t fail at nothing. The coach made sure by rigging me up with two sets of boxes. Every day I would pitch to those boxes until my arm would fall off. The Air Force let me keep my day job:) They let me travel with the team cause it made us look like a fun bunch of Air Force Women! That was good PR.

So there you have it. I was good at it all. I was good at being away from home. I was good at being a woman in a man’s world. In fact, it was down right awesome being one of the only women amongst all that testosterone. Thank you Lord. Thank you dad. Thank you mother nature.

I went on to win Airman of the Quarter and competed against MrD for Airman of the Year. He won. I was mad at him for awhile. I got over it and had his kids.

I went on to win…Most Professional Looker. Good grief…this was a good name when the base was all men. But I got a lot of razzing about this title of Most Professional Looker. It was honest to gosh…a real award and here is the proof. An unattractive picture of me pulling a piece of equipment and hooking it to a tug.

A tug is a torture vehicle used to haul equipment around on the flightline. Affectionally knows as the hemmorhoid maker. We pulled little things and big things. You have to be real careful when pulling a plane. Can you imagine the calculated turns and manuvers? I can and only missed once. I towed the airplanes to and from various hangers for maintenance and washing. One time..hehehehe, I was thinking about MrD and hauled that bad boy right over a curb. I learned that you can not dislodge the wayward wheel back up over the curb with a tug. You must enlist the help of a crane and several hundred slap happy men to get it back on track. I know cause I looked in to the eyes of every jovial man on that flightline…that day. I lived and laughed too.

And because I learned to wear make-up correctly, I met and married MrD. This is what we looked like when we married in 1978. I would continue to be an Airman until I was 4 months pregnant and in 1980 I left the Air Force to be a mom and full time wife. That is when I stopped looking back and have continued to look forward. I look forward to seeing this brave journey right to the end. I’m not done living it. I’m not done being a brave and courageous woman. I do it for you and I do it for me. I do it for every little girl or boy who gets told they won’t amount to much.

Where is Custer?

George and Elizabeth Custer

George Custer is buried where?  December 5, 1839 – June 25, 1876

I feel like a reporter debugging a misunderstood fact. In this case, it’s a claim to fame and tourism. I’ve been to the famous George Armstrong Custer’s grave-site. Now that might not seem odd but if I told you that 3 different states claim his body is buried within those plots, well…then the plot thickens.

George Armstrong Custer in 1865

Imagine my surprise when on a trip to the Little Big Horn battle field in Montana a tour guide told me–here lies George Armstrong Custer. I said the same George who graduated from West Point in 1859? She said yes. I said well he is buried at West Point, NY too. She ask how I knew….I said cause I was just there a few days ago and I saw it for myself. She didn’t believe me at first.

In 1991-1993, Mr. Delicious was stationed at West Point, NY which is the Army’s military academy. It’s the United States Military Academy at West Point, NY. It was established during the presidency of Thomas Jefferson in 1802. It was first called Fort Arnold after Benedict Arnold. When he became a traitor–the name was changed.

Mr. Delicious was an Air Force officer stationed at a Army base. Previously, we had been stationed at the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado. I told you he was a braniac. He was an AOC at USAFA and a TAC at USMA. AOC and TAC are the same job. AOC, is Air Officer Commanding and TAC is Tactical Officer. Most academies have approximately 4,000 cadets at any given time. Both academies are the military’s 4 year college with officer training included. The AOC/TAC is the officer in command of the squadron/company of cadets.

Wiki photo of the USAFA chapel in Colorado Springs, Colorado. This is the prettiest place I’ve ever lived. We almost retired to this area but came home to NC instead.

The TAC’s and AOC’s are the commanders for the cadet squadrons for AF and a cadet company for the Army.  Each squadron or company has approximately 100 cadets. So that makes 25 per class for each squadron/company. The first class cadets at the USAFA are called Firsties, sophomore’s are 3rd class and so on. There are other nicknames but I want to tell you how we ended up at the Battle of the Little Big Horn in Montana.

Our tours at the academies were fun but they were not my husband’s primary career field. He would re-enter his career field at the end of his AF time. I will also talk about that at a later date. I have to keep you coming back to hear more of the story.  

Without bragging on Mr. Delicious too much—he was such a good AOC at USAFA that he was chosen by the AF to represent them at the Army’s West Point. It was a program where an officer from each academy was exchanged to show cadets on both sides that all officers from all branches are to be respected. In theory this worked—but let me tell you that there is a real rival between the two branches and we got hazed constantly. 

Our family has a whole new appreciation for the Army. I like to say that the AF does things with the least amount of effort and the Army does things the most manly way possible but both arrive at the same conclusion. The Army would march to destination A with a backpack full of heavy artillery and a month’s worth of rations and the AF would fly in ahead supporting a ground invasion. With the utmost respect, both are intelligent branches of the service and support each other on every front.

See West Point and photo credit:Here My husband’s office looked out on to this area. His office was in the building behind the cadets.

So here we were in the Army’s world located at the most historical place in the United States. I was over the top interested in every square inch in of this place. I challenged myself to become a tour guide for the academy and learned a great deal of history to do so. Most of the employees of the West Point Tour company are military wives who work there until their husbands are transferred. This was my case.

The tour included the graveyard where so many heroes and soldiers are buried. I have enough wonderful stories from that duty assignment to fill another book. George Armstrong Custer died fighting against the Indians. According to the Indian Holy Man, Sitting Bull…the Army was not going to win that day. Sitting Bull had a vision that the Indians would be victorious. They were and thus ended the career of Custer.

From Wiki–Custer on his honeymoon with Libby

Custer was buried at the battle site but this would not do for his wife Libby. She would petition the army to bring her husband home to West Point. She was a widower and would spend the rest of her days defending his reputation until she passed at 91. I will talk about her again some time in the future because I learned to love this woman. She brought forth the truth about the heart of Custer toward the Indians. He did not want to fight that day at the Little Big Horn….he wanted to find another way to help everyone solve the conflict.The Libbie Papers from The University of North Dakota

Above is Custer’s Grave Marker at West Point that his wife Libby had made for him.   photo provided by–www.friendslittlebighorn.com

 

Above Grave Marker at the Little Big Horn sight in Montana   photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jamiedfw/494209039/

Several times a day, I led a tour group of about 50 people past the grave-site of George Armstrong Custer and Elizabeth Clift Bacon who were buried side by side at West Point. But on this day, we stood at another grave of the same Custer but there was no Libby. I was almost offended for her. Custer might still be in Montana–which in my opinion is where he should be. I think he left his heavy heart there. He loved the Indians.

Mr. Delicious and his family had finished our tour at West Point and it was time for him to go back to his primary career field. This would take us from New York to Montana. We were on our way to Malmstrom AFB in Great Falls, Montana. On our way we took many side trips. As you guessed, one of them was this battle sight of the Little Big Horn. Custer’s Last Stand!

www.annebelle.com is a wonderful site chock full of the history here. Photo above came from that site.

There is no doubt that he died while leading a raid at the Battle of the Little Big Horn in Montana. If you take a tour of that battlefield out in the middle of nowhere, you’ll see how remote it is. They will tell you Custer and his brothers along with  a few other family members–are buried on that hill. There are no cities close by to take in the wounded. The men who lived through the battle but were wounded, died in great numbers also. There is also a  burial sight for the horses.

The tour guides at The Little Big Horn battle field explain that it was a mass slaughter of Custer’s band of men. Custer had not been properly backed and went in poorly manned. The bodies were buried where they lie and it is unlikely his body was moved a year later.

The army argues that officers were buried differently than a common soldier. They assume that these differences would help identify where the officer graves were located.  There were several steps to follow when burying men of rank. And true, the officers may have been properly buried at first but then those graves were raided and the bodies and belongings were strewn about the countryside.  Libby, Custer’s wife, petitioned the government to go get Custer and bring him back to West Point, NY where he deserved to be buried. Libby was a persistent person and the government sent a few men out to the battle field a year later and brought back the remains of a body. There is no clear evidence that Custer’s body is the one laying in the elaborate grave Libby had prepared for him at West Point. But none the less, West Point or The United States Military Academy proclaims that they have Custer buried in their cemetery. Below is Custer when he graduated from West Point in 1859.

Many of the men who fell with Custer on that day in June of 1876— including his brother who is also a famous Custer—are buried at Arlington National Cemetery and Leavenworth which is the 3rd place that people think George Armstrong is buried. It isn’t unfeasible to think that a part of him could be at all four. The original burial ground in Montana reports that the soldiers were badly mutilated and scalped. Bits and pieces of the bodies were intermingled. The burial sight at the Little Big Horn is called Custer’s National Cemetery. There are several little grave markers there with a few bones inside.

What do you think? Do you think Custer is laying beside Libby at West Point?

Interment of the Custer Dead by Rob Reece

Archeology and New Information on the Battle of The Little Big Horn

Now the story above is more my account of the adventures in our life. If I have wrongfully stated a fact or name it was unintentional. This is my opinion about the facts and should not be taken as historically correct. And…this is not chapter two of Mr. Delicious–but it was part of my research for the next chapter.

Meeting Mr. Delicious Chapter 1

Below is a picture of me in 1975. You can compare what I looked like at 16 with what I look like now. I think my nose stayed the same. My parents signed for me to go in to the Air Force when I was 16 and completed basic training at 17. I was happy to get out of a small town and start over. This is a journey in my life based on truth with some fun added for interest. The story spans 30 years of growth between two interesting and adventerous personalities. You will travel from coast to coast and North to South. At 50 years old, life feels comfortable and accomplished. Come go with me and see where I’ve been and how my life has changed.

Mr. Delicious Lives With Me

Chapter 1

Meeting Mr. Delicious

It is extremely hot in Arizona and you wear the least you can to live in it. In 1977, they were having a horrible bout of dust storms and blazing hot heat. Wind storms roll across the desert at fast speeds picking up sand and debris as it goes. The city of Phoenix sits down in a valley and is victim to these blinding events. Looking way out over the desert, you can see the wall of dust coming. It’s frightening if you don’t know what’s going to happen when it arrives. It’s also frightening if you have no where to hide from it. This is the kind of day that welcomed me to Williams Air Force Base on the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona.