m.o.l. Essays, actually....

                                     The Day The Planets  Realigned

It was at a lunch with Joe Pidgeon  in the Hospital Cafeteria on a  a sultry smoggy day, late in April , 1972   In Riverside.   March Air Force Base.

I was a Lieutenant Colonel, the ranking member of the Department of Medicine, but still in Dermatology full time.  

At 38, increasingly embarrassed to have overstayed  somewhat my time in uniform.

My role was more like a Chaplain for the younger  Docs; someone to carry their messages to the Front Office. 

 Sort of a chronic , over-promoted rookie, serving my sixth two-year tour.  

Worked at covering the silver oak leaves with the white coat in clinic. 

In town, one  needed to be done with your Gardening  or jogging by mid-morning;  then  you spent the rest of the day indoors.   The street-lights came on to assure parents that their kids were staying in  out of the smog for recess.  Air Conditioning ruled the day. 

Thirteen years!  The Air Force Math whizzes had held me eighteen months longer than planned .  (Well, you have to finish this,one  before you start…blah, blah…)

 And  now we were Free At Last!  We were getting out!   Finally finished  with the “Pay Back”. For the Senior Program, The residency…all paid back in full!  We were looking at Practices..Upland, Kaiser, the Bay Area…

.A  handful of us Medics were  leaving; all  with ten to fifteen years  over the dam.  Done!!

So long to this whole business of   B-52’s,  pseudofolliculitis shaving waivers,  Commander’s Calls….

I shared this great news with Joe over lunch that day.  I was moving up to Civilian!

(Doctor Joe  was a Reserve Major in The Air Force;  A Dermatologist in Downey, and Charles Bronson’s Brother-in-law.  

He was coming out  monthly, building Reserve points.   

A good clinician, a nice man…our first chance to have a chat.)

Joe’s response was brief, but compelling.   He was doing well,  was solvent, and loved his work. 

 But he was scrambling, at 55, building points toward a retirement, and a check at 60.

“Don’t be a Damn Fool!  They love it when you get out with thirteen!  They’ve got you!”

“Give them seven more; then get out!  Then you’ve got them!

I called assignments that afternoon.  An opening at Andrews !  Three years there, then four more  just west of Spokane at Fairchild…then we stayed in Spokane another twenty.

Finished my career;  “Retired” in October of 1980.  Forty-third  Anniversary  last Fall.

Never got a chance to tell Joe “Thanks!”

On The Evolution of A Sonnet.....

Don Johnson was my brother-in-law.  He was in charge of Alameda Naval Air Station’s Sheet Metal Shop for three decades, including  the years of WWII.  In retirement, he had built and raced dune buggies, rebuilt a ’47  Aeronca plane from scrap parts, and  created several artistic versions of Model T’s.

Don passed away in the Enloe Hospital in Chico, California in early 2003.

 I thought there might be a poem that could recognize Don’s amazing gifts as he moved through time.Instead, wound up with a poem about his last month.

Knowing how rhyming poems are somewhat “on the ropes” I  decided to work with the form of a Sonnet, but initially without the rhyming…

Then, decided to  see if the story could be told with the more traditional Sonnet structure..a,b,a,b…c, d, c, d….e, f, e, f,..g,g!

R.I.P., Don Johnson;  1922-2003