Joan Casey - Memorial Services Update #6

Joan Casey, my dear wife

Last Tuesday night, April 19, a special service was held for Joan at the Shambhala Dharma Hall in Bellingham.
Many friends attended to honor her life and its memories, and to pray for her well-favored rebirth.
I am very grateful for this honor, as I know Joan's spirit is as well.

Included here are scans of the documents used in this service, including 2 photos of Joan, the first of which was burned at the end. Very moving...

Joan dearly loved 'Birding'

Joan was always interested in nature, and naturally gravitated to the study of birds, especially in latter years. 

It was a good way to travel and get outdoors, often with other people who respected the natural environment and tried to protect and conserve it. 

I accused her of trying to convert the NOUN 'BIRD' to a VERB, often calling her BIRD-A-DEE and other nonsense. 

She seemed to welcome this, at least most of the time.

Once, on a birding trip to Trinidad & Tobago, we met fellow BIRDERS, dressed like the cartoonist, Gary Larson used to depict, who asked me what were my favorite birds - to which I responded; Chicken and Turkey! 

That response took them aback, but in time became an often repeated anecdote which Joan loved - at least to a point...

Those who attended this service mainly included Joan's Buddhist friends, but also her hiking buddies from the Bellingham Mountaineers. How nice!

The program was simple, short and reflective, just the way Joan preferred, and followed by an informal reception with some of her favorite foods* - something she always enjoyed.

[red wine, salmon, cheese, blackberries, apples, crackers and dark chocolate]

The Program, Chant and special Prayer she liked are reproduced below:

This ceremony was treasured by me and, I know, by Joan - because she had requested it!

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Joan Casey - Health Update #5 - Memorial Services Planned & Thanks!

Today's Update summarizes Memorial Services being held now and planned for the future.

1. Sausalito [CA] Presbyterian Church - Saturday, May 21 at 2PM, with Reverend George McLaird presiding. Open invitation to all. Coffee/Tea after. George married Joan & me on June 17, 1990 in a wonderful ceremony lasting 45 minutes, that was filmed. When he asked Joan why she was marrying me, she said "he makes me laugh". That was good enough answer for George; we've been laughing often together ever since. All are welcome!

2. The Tsegyalgar West Dzogchen Community in Berkeley, CA - Special Buddhist Prayers are being offered since before Joan's death that continue now until her joyous spirit is reborn. Her Teacher, Chogyal Namkhai Norbu, has prayed for her, a spiritual blessing that Joan wished for and has now received.

3. The Bellingham Shambhala Community is holding a special blessing service for Joan, on Tuesday, April 19 at 7:30 PM at the Shambhala Center at 2825 Meridian Street, Suite #201 [across from Haggen's] Joan was frequently included in this Sangha and has many friends there.

4. The Zen Buddhist Community in Bellingham is holding a special service for Joan on Wednesday, May 4 at 8 PM, in the Red Cedar Zen Center at 1021 North Forest. Joan was also frequently included in this group's meditations and has many friends there.All are welcome.

5. A special memorial service will be held in Yonkers, NY at the Flynn Memorial Home, 1614 Central Park Avenue, Yonkers, NY 10710 on Saturday, May 14 at 2 PM. Joan wished for her cremated remains to be interred at Gate of Heaven Cemetery, in the Casey Burial Plot, alongside her father, mother and brother. All are welcome. Coffee or Tea afterward.

6. The Nalandabodhi Buddhist Community in Seattle will be offering special prayers for Joan soon, with time & place to be determined.

7. The Bellingham Unitarian Fellowship is planning to honor Joan's life in a simple service soon. Several of Joan's friends will collaborate to arrange this event. All are welcome.

8. Siddhartha's Intent Buddhist Community in Vancouver, BC, Canada has been asked to hold a special remembrance of Joan which will likely occur soon.

9. Since Joan's beliefs were sincere, ecumenical and widespread, additional observances may be also forthcoming from:

* The Tsegyalgar East Dzogchen Community in Conway, Massachusetts;

* The Rigpa Buddhist Community in San Francisco is requesting prayers and a practice be held for Joan at Lerab Ling, the main retreat Main RIGPA Center in France, with the message that the practitioners have started to practice for Joan. Her name is also being sent to a monastery in India, where her photo will projected on screens to bring blessing and support.

* Prayers have also been requested from Tara Mandala, where Lama Tsultrim Allione has stated:
  “Dakinis tend to appear during moments of transitions when we might not know what to do next. The dakinis will remove the blockage.”

* So many others have prayed for Joan that I'm losing count!

* Special recognition is due three Vajra Sisters of Joan:

- Erica Rayner-Horn, whom Joan requested I contact immediately after entering the Hospital, and offered comforting support in reaching out to the Buddhist Community.

-Patty Cashman, a Buddhist Chaplain from Shasta, who made the trip to be with Joan and me to comfort us before the end came.

- Nora McKay, who arrived the night before Joan passed away and was with her until the end.

* I am very thankful for the visits made to Joan's bedside by several of her friends:

- Ilya Kolesnikov - San Francisco

- Margaret Weiland and Bob Davis from Seattle/Bellingham

- Kym Sites and Paula McShane Conway - San Francisco Neighbors

- Sherri Brown - Sacramento

- Fedor Kolesnikov -San Francisco

* Hospital Staff, including Doctors, Nurses, Respiratory Therapists, others who brought compassion and comfort to Joan during her 3-week confinement.

* Finally, all those who offered sympathy the only ways reasonably possible - phone, e-mail and letters - too numerous to count. Again, heartfelt Thanks!

When more of these events become firmed up, notice will be periodically posted here.

Joan Casey - Health Update #3 [4/9/2016]

Mountain Bliss in Happier Times

This will advise Joan’s present condition, the steps taken that lead to this point, and the hopes, expectations and goals we are working toward in the future:

Earlier Health updates will give the background for this one; these are available from those who received them previously, as well as my blog - BellinghamHamsterTalk - at this URL: http://bellinghamstertalk.blogspot.com

Presently, Joan is in ICU Room 2039 at Shasta Regional Medical Center in Redding, CA, where she has been since March 22, and is receiving excellent care. 
This hospital has won recognition as one of America’s 100 best hospitals each of the last 2 years, and we are confident she is getting the very best care possible under the circumstances.

Our plan is to get her well enough to transfer to another hospital closer to home, including either University of Washington Hospital in Seattle, or University of California Hospital in San Francisco.
Recently, a Hospital to Hospital Transfer application to the University Of Washington Hospital was rejected because Joan was too weak and ill to meet their criteria. This was disappointing, but has given us the opportunity to reassess our options, more realistically. 
With the choices available, Joan must remain here until she is deemed well enough to leave.

Here’s what we have decided to do, with Joan’s and our Doctors’ concurrence:

1. Joan will remain in ICU indefinitely, until she improves sufficiently to move or be released. Here she will receive maximum care and attention. She retains a strong will to survive and live her life as fully as possible, event though that may entail constant supplemental oxygen and/or walker or wheelchair. Her first wish is to live her life in our Bellingham home, using private care as may be needed.

2. Joan agreed to being intubated under sedation, understanding fully the implications and complications that may result. She does not wish to remain on a ventilator for the rest of her life, and does not want become a ‘vegetable’ in the event of cardiac arrest or other adverse event. In those cases, she does not want to be revived. In the possible event she doesn’t survive, her wish is to be cremated with remains sent to her family cemetery in Westchester County, NY.

3. Here is our mutually agreed rationale for proceeding with intubation:

a. She was not improving under the earlier treatment; for a while she did, but this improvement plateaued and stalled, which increasingly caused her pain, anxiety and weakness, all not good for her recovery goals, including meeting the criteria required for her release or transfer.

b. Her condition proved more serious than initially assessed, due to the added complicated of an unknown infection possibly in her lungs, which was being treated without observable improvement. The intubation allows a better assessment of this infection, which could lead to more effective treatment and improvement. 

c. Joan has a respiratory disease known as Interstitial Pulmonary Fibrosis [IPF], for which she has been under treatment for a few years with Pulmonary Specialists in Seattle and Bellingham. 
This a lung impairment that makes her susceptible to other lung ailments. She has been using a CPAP machine at night to assist her breathing, supplemented with oxygen from an INOGEN device. 
She also wears an oxygen nose tube to assist her breathing while walking or during other exercise. There is no known cure for this disease, which is progressive in nature. Treatment does help slow down the adverse effects of IPF, but sometimes produces harmful side effects, such as diarrhea, etc.

d. Joan had become very fatigued recently, in pain from chronic lower back discomfort, anxious about her condition, and possibly unnamed infections, all of which combine to result in her current weakened state. The diarrhea in particular has caused or contributed to severe dehydration and depletion of necessary electrolytes. This condition, alone, may require hospitalization.

e. The lack of truly restful sleep has exacerbated all of the above difficulties. The more she tries to relax, the greater the anxiety and frustration with her condition grows, making it difficult former to improve her quality of life. Too much activity and excitement is not good for her.

All of the above conditions have combined for us to seek early intubation. We are viewing this as a step that had to be taken anyway if she were to be moved. An added bonus is that intubation with sedation allows the improvements necessary to proceed better. The other steps toward release or transfer can be taken once she improves.

This is our plan; Get Joan well and return her to a more normal life!

During the time she has been hospitalized, Joan has been greatly blessed by the enormous response from friends and family members who love her dearly and pray former recovery. 
This really helps!

This Update helps me to convey what has happened more clearly and widely. 
I can send copies to those who wish them, remember better what this summarizes, and provide a website for others to read for themselves.

Instead of having a circle of friends, Joan truly has circle of circles of friends! 
She loves you all and greatly welcomes your prayers, best thoughts and encouragement!

Sorry to have taken so long to say all this, but now its done……

Joan sends her love to all of you.

Bye for now,

Her Husband John Watts
360 961-4579

Personal: An e-Mail to Missus Joan

Today is April 1, 2016, another good day for you, Joan Casey, to recover your health and strength, and that's not a joking matter,

Here is some news that will definitely cheer you up: 
SSA Marine is suspending its EIS on the proposed GPT Coal Terminal at Cherry Point!

These are links to stories that appear in today's Bellingham Herald, Seattle Times and Northwest Citizen:

1. Lead story

2. Project Timeline

3. Corps of Engineers Statement on EIS decision

Here is the link to Seattle Times Article:

And, here's the link to Northwest Citizen Article:

That's quite enough excitement for you right now, since you need mostly rest to get better.

I have decided to post here the e-mail updates I've been sending to people about your health:
====================================================
To: Missus Joan

From: Mister John

Here is the latest report I’ve sent to 'The World’ today, regarding your present health status.Since many of the 150+ forwarded recipients haven’t heard of your recent health problems, I am also repeating the first Update below for reference.

While you are continuing to improve, it will take a while before you can travel by car to reach our home in Bellingham - 750 miles north. Maybe a few days, possibly more, as time will tell.

You are receiving excellent care here at SRMC, and the Doctors have coordinated with your Doctors in Seattle about your treatment plans. They are working diligently at helping you get better. 

But, you are the main player in this real life drama! Your job is to REST, BREATHE better, LOSE the anxiety, and MAINTAIN a positive attitude. That’s it! Tough job but you can do it - strong woman that you are.

So, I’m asking those recipients who wish to communicate their good wishes to continue doing so through me, as your loving husband and self-appointed gatekeeper for now.

So, without further ado, here's the first Health Update repeated below.

Hope you approve - and IMPROVE! 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is an update on Joan's condition:

On our way home from San Francisco to Bellingham, we made a rest stop in Redding, CA, where Joan was too weak to walk. I helped her to the restroom, then concluded a call to local EMS was necessary. This occurred on Tuesday, March 22, about 6PM.

Joan was taken to Shasta Regional Medical Center, where she remains today.
She is improving slowly from Oxygen depletion in her blood, severe dehydration and some unknown infection, eating well and sleeping better, but still regaining her strength and ability to breathe adequately. It will likely be a few more days before she is ready to travel by car.

Meanwhile, both of our cell phones work, but it is better to call me @ 360 961-4579.
Also, e-mail and messages work. 

I am staying in rooms maintained by the hospital across the street, so I see her often. The facilities here @ SRMC are excellent, rated in the 100 best hospitals in the US for 2 years running. 
The local Doc has been in touch with Joan's Pulmonologist @ Univ of Washington hospital in Seattle, and they concur with her treatment plans. That is not a concern.

So, bottom line is not to worry overmuch. She is receiving excellent care, but your prayers and supportive thoughts are always very welcome!😀
----------------
John Watts & Joan Casey
1015 W Toledo St
Bellingham, WA 98229
360 647-2346
jwatts1938@comcast.net
(360) 961-4579

In happier and healthier days-

Short Stories: The Pocosin

The year was 1711 and the young, grey-eyed Quin was feeling troubled. His life had been good as he was a highly respected Tuscarora brave, whose mother - a member of the Wolf Clan - had selected well her husband - who, in turn, had become a chief of the Tuscarora. A matriarchal tribe, the Tuscarora tradition was that no one owned the land, but the women were the stewards of it. They grew the food - mainly the “3 Sisters” - maize, beans and squash - while the men hunted and fished. Called ‘The Hemp Gatherers’, this tribe greatly valued the hemp fibers which were used to make thread, string, rope, nets, and cloth. They did not waste the edible seeds, or even the leaves, instead combining them with tobacco to smoke and thereby communicate prayers to the Great Spirit during Festivals and other times of import.

Life in eastern North Carolina was relatively easy, especially compared to the northern climes from which the Tuscarora had come centuries before. Then, they had belonged to the Algonquin tribes, whose traditions and language they continued to use. Eventually, many Tuscarora would rejoin the Five Iroquois Nations, and become recognized as the Sixth Nation.

But, now, their peaceful existence was being severely threatened by the impact of lawless European settlers, who were coming in increasing numbers and were not proving to be very good neighbors. These newcomers were encroaching upon and claiming land the Tuscarora depended upon. In their haste for quick wealth, they indiscriminately over-harvested turpentine, tar and timber to export as naval stores, and cleared forests to plant tobacco and cotton, quickly depleting the soil. They also brought disease for which the Tuscarora had no resistance, and alcohol, soon to be the bane of the indigenous people. Worse, indians were being raped, sold into slavery, tortured and killed by the newcomers. With their traditions and lifestyles under attack, the normally kind and peaceful Tuscarora were being sorely tested, especially Quin.

Just a few years earlier, Quin had readily agreed to accompany and guide John Lawson on a survey of the Eastern Carolinas, after which Lawson published a book that attracted more settlers. Proof of that came quickly, when Lawson brought ‘Baron’ Christoph von Graffenried and 800 new settlers from Germany and Switzerland to establish a new town - New Bern - at the confluence of the Neuse and Trent Rivers, where they form an estuary of Pamlico Sound. That location was an ideal one, but with the major flaw that it was already occupied by the Tuscarora!

For centuries, the tribe had considered the New Bern site and its surrounds as the seat of their homeland, situated as it was close to the rivers along which they lived; the Neuse, Cape Fear, Tar and Roanoke. Their very lifeblood depended upon these streams and their rich, growing, hunting and fishing areas. Both Quin and his father, Chief Hancock, took this latest crass action by land speculators as a direct affront, tantamount to a declaration of war! But, for the moment, they kept quiet and waited until a plan could be conceived and approved by the two councils of elders, male and female, with the latter having the final say.

After all, Lawson, himself, had admitted the Tuscarora were “really better to us than we have been to them, as they always freely give us of their victuals at their quarters, while we let them walk by our doors hungry, and do not often relieve them. We look upon them with disdain and scorn, and think them little better than beasts in human form; while with all our religion and education, we possess more moral deformities and vices than these people do.” 

Quin’s mother, Logan, knew that he could never become the next chief, so she reluctantly approved an important different role for him. First, she met with her peer sisters at the Village of the Clan Mothers, received their wise counsel and then quietly informed her son Quin of what he must do. He was to guide his father, Chief Hancock, to meet with Lawson, then capture him and bring him to a secret place to administer the justice meant to save the tribe from further settler encroachment - and the Tuscarora’s last resort - war!

The place Quin selected was designed to lure Lawson to come willingly, for it was a prime hunting spot in a nearby pocosin; literally, a swamp on a hill. Elliptical in shape and surrounded by a sandy rim, pocosins trapped only rainwater, were acidic and relatively nutrient poor, making them suitable mainly for evergreen plants like loblolly pine, holly, bay, pond pine and briars, plus the venus flytrap. They supported many species of reptiles, amphibians and rodents as well as black bears, bats, white-tail deer, opossums, raccoons, muskrats and bob-white quail, plus insects, including mosquitos. When they dried out, pocosin peat fires could burn for days.

Lawson quickly accepted Quin’s invitation, but decided to bring along two companions, von Graffenried, himself, and a black servant. This was an unexpected complication that Quin - and his concealed father - resolved as soon the party gained access to the pocosin’s interior. First, they subdued their three captives, tied them with hemp rope to facing trees, serving to frighten them severely. Then, as the others watched, Quin retrieved a large hemp net in which he had trapped a giant cotton-mouth moccasin, which had become quite agitated. Slowly, he released the snake on the ground between the terrified Lawson’s legs and watched as the reptile repeatedly struck him with open fangs. Lawson’s death would be certain, but painful and slow, a death befitting someone who had abused the Tuscarora so terribly. Then, Quin left and swiftly made his way north, leaving his captives with his father, Chief Hancock.

Quin would never return, but would open the way for other Tuscarora to follow. He left on August 18, 1711, exactly 124 years after the birth of Virginia Dare, the first white child born in the American Colonies.  

Short Stories: The Nightmare Before Elections

The Nightmare Before Elections

After weeks of steady, unbalanced bombardment via public airwaves with constant angry rhetoric, mostly by that eye of Mordor known as Fox news, I’m feeling a little worried and worn-out. The Sauron-like figures behind Fox remind me of the evil forces in J.R.R.Tolkien’s Lord Of The Rings [LOTR] trying to take power by stealing the ‘One Ring’. Steady exposure to such propaganda and rhetoric, particularly the negative kind, does affect people by instilling doubt, fear, disgust and disengagement from public elections, which is the only real remedy for making those meaningful changes needed to benefit all citizens. But, simply appealing to emotions over reason seems always an easier path for those wishing to influence voters.

Rather than following a rational approach to benefit people with real needs, as exemplified by the so-called ‘Bleiker Life Preserver*’, these talking heads prefer doing things the old-fashioned way - by trial and error, forgetting any lesson learned along the way. What a pity! As someone great once said; ‘those who refuse to learn from history, are doomed to repeat it’.

The Bleiker Life Preserver is a four step process:

1. Acknowledge a serious problem exists that needs timely and effective resolution
2. It’s our [Congress] job to deal with it, and no one else’s 
3. Our plan will be well thought-out, reasonable and non-partisan
4. We do listen to ALL the public, we do care about good results

        No wonder, my sleep was interrupted by the cumulative effect of too many Republican debates, with too many sorry candidates, all wanting to repeal Social Security and the Affordable Care Act for medical care. Hey, as senior citizen, I worked for those things, deserve them, and depend on them for healthcare and income!

Additionally, they all seem to want to go to war at every opportunity and perceived offense, always unilaterally attacking with superior force, and without ever having to pay for it or acknowledging any adverse consequences to our own troops, their families and loved ones, allies, or innocent foreigners impacted.

Some want to summarily take away the liberties guaranteed by our Bill of Rights and replace them with their own ideas of morality, religion, opinions and beliefs, without regard to legalities or other consequences.

Some wish to deport millions of immigrants, build huge walls to keep out migrants and refugees from other places, plus increase draconian, police-state restrictions and monitoring on those who remain.

All seem to want the ‘Citizens United’ decision by the US Supreme Court to stand, meaning that Corporations are PEOPLE and Money is SPEECH! Go figure! Can you spell SuperPAC? How about ANONYMOUS donors?

Many think that our current duly elected President is actively undermining our nation with policies that are ineffective, subversive and illegal. That’s troubling, especially when the evidence seems to prove otherwise!

All seem prone to making such numerous, unsubstantiated claims and complaints about current Administration officials that could be summarized in a standard checklist and used for future political speeches and grand-standing.

All talk like they don’t believe in science, at least in terms of climate change. 

All dismiss environmental concerns as if they were some sort of liberal wish-list.

All are for good education for all, but don’t want to provide it.

All are anti-labor, anti minimum wage, anti-taxes, and doubtful that the Federal Reserve System works at all.

All want foreign trade, but refuse to advocate any resistance to restrict US Corporation from moving off-shore.

All are expert at half-truths, refusing to fact-check themselves before giving political speeches, counting instead upon spinning quick, self-serving sound bytes.

All quickly discount the value of a Public Works Project capable of repairing our nation’s critical infrastructure, creating millions of living wage jobs and enabling trade and commerce to operate much more efficiently and safely.

The various candidates appear to fit one or more of the following categorical villains from LOTR:

• Ring-wraiths - those nine ghostly nobles who perpetually serve Sauron
• Trolls - large disgusting beasts with chips on their shoulders and no manners
• Nazguls - flying versions of Ring-wraiths appearing as large dragons
• Balrog - the nastiest beast ever encountered, uses fire and long tail to drag down Gandalf (the good wizard)
• Orcs - nasty goblins controlled by evil forces; can only fight at night
• Uruk-hai - a hybrid race of larger, stronger, faster orcs and better fighters, who can also fight in daytime.
• Gollum - a disgusting, insidious creature who desires the One Ring for himself

The reader gets to pick which category of evil villain fits each candidate. I have my own selections, but prefer -for the moment- to keep them to myself.

After this parade of horribles, I awoke with a start, thinking something was trying to smother me - but, it was only my Continuous Pulmonary Air Pump [CPAP] hose, used to help me sleep better. I noisily thrust it off, awaking my wife in the process.

Then, I stepped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, but something else quickly and painfully restrained me. It was my tethered catheter bag partly filled with urine! Ouch! What a way to wake up.

After all those frightening dreams and now this frazzling awakening, I still tried to sleep more, just to make up for the awful nightmarish sleep I’d had. Bad idea! As I continued to dwell on all the negativity I’d conjured earlier, I did manage to capture a few key points; maybe for a future blog. Later, after I’d finally gotten up, I jotted down a few notes to help me remember my nightmare.

Then, I made a firm resolution; I’ve gotta stop watching the Republican ‘debates’ propaganda bullshit! Also, stop reading and watching Tolkien’s stuff. And the meds; either take more or less of them! Maybe a little more wine before turning in?

Failing all that, I’ve gotta get rid of the catheter! Would an adult diaper help?

Just $42 for 72 Men’s max at Costco.

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Short Stories: Sea Buoy 2 Charlie Bravo

Sea Buoy ‘2CB’ marks the entrance to Chesapeake Bay and the Thimble Shoals Channel, major water routes used by both merchant and military vessels as well as pleasure craft. The importance of these deepwater routes is immense and of absolute critical value to us, as is demonstrated by the sheer density of ocean-going traffic - inbound and outbound - 24/7 every week. Congestion and, therefore, danger are always present to the wary and the unwary alike. It is with this clear perspective that certain early morning events that occurred just before a fourth of July weekend are now being told. 

CC-1 was a communications flagship, a unique vessel designed and operated to maintain direct, continuous voice contact with the White House. With dimensions of 700 feet in length and a beam of about 50 feet, CC-1 was initially intended to become a coal collier, but converted into use as a cruiser by adding an extra deck, extensively redesigning both interior and exterior, and outfitting it with electronic equipment, with very little armament. Aside from a unicorn-like mast, the ship was further distinguished by a smooth topside surfaces to allow rapid wash-downs when required by contamination. A crew of 1200 men included almost 200 radiomen and electronics technicians to tend the ship’s main mission.

NAN Division was the name assigned to the Navigation Department, a group of 20 Quartermasters responsible for operating and maintaining the ship from the bridge, maintaining charts, publications and navigation instruments, keeping track of CC-1’s position at all times, and taking direct charge of navigating during times of General Quarters, severe storms, special Sea & Anchor Details during entering and leaving port, going alongside another vessel, and piloting in restricted or unfamiliar waters. A related duty was keeping the communications staff informed frequently of the range and bearing to their land-based antenna, located in the Virginia Capes area.

The morning in question saw an unusual weather condition, with dense surface fog that masked both vision and detection by electronic instruments. Just after dawn, NAN Division and its special Sea & Anchor Detail was set to relieve the regular watch at the piloting table, helm, lee helm, port and starboard wing lookouts, and after-steering. A Master Chief Quartermaster oversaw these changes on the bridge, assisted the Navigating Quartermaster, the Officer-Of-The-Deck and the Navigator - who, in turn, reported directly to the Captain.

A single sweep of the surface radar briefly showed a small blip on the screen off the starboard bow, but repeat sweeps showed nothing, probably due to ‘sea-return’ caused by the relatively short distance between ship and the blip. That was clearly a cause for alarm, as CC-1 continued its slow westward approach toward 2CB. As a precaution, the Captain ordered ship speed to be cut to ‘all-ahead one-third’, then to ‘all-stop’.

At nearly the moment the new helmsman took the wheel, a visual sighting of a ship bearing down on CC-1, off its starboard bow, was made! The Captain immediately ordered ‘right full rudder’, then ‘all-emergency-back-full’ and the ship began to physically shudder as its forward progress was stopped, then reversed. Unfortunately, the ‘lee helm’, responsible for the engine order telegraph, did not know how to properly signal the order - by repeated movement of a lever. But, the helmsman quickly leaned over and performed this signal to make sure the engine room responded as needed. Slowly, CC-1 turned and began backing down, but the other ship continued to bear down on it, looking like a sure collision. Quickly. the Captain sounded the collision alarm, simultaneously ordering the starboard side to be cleared of all personnel. Sailors stationed at the bow were frozen by fear that the ship approaching would certainly kill them in the inevitable collision that would soon follow. 

As CC-1 backed down and gained sternway, the bow began to swing left, placing it again closer to the approaching ship. The helmsman loudly requested permission to shift the rudder to correct the leftward swing, but this went unheard in the commotion. But, with the Chief’s blessing, the helmsman shifted the helm to left full rudder, countering the dangerous swing and thereby lessening the chance of a collision. Just in time, the bow missed the ongoing ship by a matter of less than 10 feet! The two sailors stationed on the bow later reported they could actually look down the stack of the ship passing right to left. Loaded almost to the ‘gunnels’ with what turned out to be JP-5 aviation gasoline, that ship continued its course without so much as acknowledging CC-1’s presence! Apparently, it had set its auto-pilot as it exited the Chesapeake Bay, meaning no one was even paying attention to what might be encountered. Unfortunately, this has been a common cause for maritime accidents and near-misses, particularly with merchant vessels.

The sense of relief onboard CC-1 was palpable! Everyone had been on nervous edge from the tension of a likely collision at sea. What happened after that was a tense and  unrelenting focus on getting the ship safely into port. The helmsman was so intent on steering a course so precisely that he hardly noticed the time passing, until CC-1 was nearly at the dock. 

When liberty call was sounded for R&R, the helmsman and other members of NAN Division and ship’s crew elected not to go ashore, instead to rest, thank God for saving them, take showers, and try to sleep. Those who did go ashore, went straight to a beer joint. It took some time to remember the Fourth of July was a national holiday, meant to honor our country’s founding, celebrate its blessings and the reasons their ship was necessary. 

Later, NAN Division held ‘lessons learned’ sessions, after which training exercises became much more relevant and compelling because of the vivid memory of what nearly happened near Buoy 2 Charlie Bravo.

Short Stories: Snowball's Adventures

Snowball’s Adventures

As a Tar Heel born, I spent most of my youth living in a small city in the Coastal Plain with activities like school, sports, scouting and church. I liked living there in a semi-bucolic existence, where citizens were friends and the flora and fauna were congenial. The climate and sandy loam soil conditions made this area full of ‘grow-y’ things, most of them useful and benign, particularly the plants which grew in variety and profusion. The main ‘money crops’ were tobacco and cotton, but there was always plenty of corn, hays, timber and truck vegetables as well. Around the city, most fauna were common to urban areas, with small mammals, birds, reptiles and insects leading the list. Of course, pets counted too, with dogs and cats more prevalent. 

Among the plant life, their variety and profusion was truly impressive. From tall long-leaf pines to hardwoods, flowering dogwoods and magnolias, the trees have always been a major asset to the area. Then, rhododendrons, azaleas and camellias, bushes, hedges and flowers - like roses, daffodils, tulips and annual seed flowers. Various grasses, dandelions and other weeds rounded out the list, with the exception of garden vegetables which were planted from seeds or starter plants. The latter was my specialty, and also my chore. I was responsible for the garden; clearing and turning, seeding, weeding, and - eventually - picking, eating and sharing the fruits of my labor.

Tomatoes were the most popular, followed by leaf lettuce, radishes, carrots, corn, squash and green onions, plus strawberries. How I loved to yank the vegetables right out of the ground and just eat them dirty! Hard to beat vegetables that fresh. Anyway, the point is I spent a lot of time out in my back yards tending the garden, not all of it fun, with the hot sun, humidity, bugs, sweat and sunburn. Often, there were other things I’d rather be doing, but a chore was a chore and no one else would do it.

One day, I was sitting on the back stoop when a little scenario played out in front of me. Our cat, Snowball, a good sized, all-white, short-haired Tom was just lazing around on the grass near me, when our neighbor’s dog, Duz, a little Boston Bull Pup started yapping at him as he always did. Now, Duz thought he was bigger and fiercer than Snowball, which was a delusion to say the least. Anyway, Duz got through the fence with the intent of chasing Snowball, which he did, with Snowball’s almost lackadaisical consent. Round and around the house they ran, with Snowball easily eluding Duz with long loping strides, while Duz simply ran too long in one place. After two or three times around the house Snowball had almost lapped Duz to the point that if you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought the chase was the other way around! 

As he came around  the corner in front of me, Snowball hopped up onto a corner of the picket fence and assumed what I considered to be an amused posture, as Duz ran right under his nose and continued on around the house at least two more times! At last, Duz figured out he’d done his doggy duty and chased Snowball away, but he continued to sniff the ground - back and forth - anyway just to make sure. Duz finally returned to his yard, possibly feeling satisfied with himself, while Snowball quietly jumped down and resumed whatever he was doing before the chase. This, I saw as fitting entertainment for me during my rest, and it was. This, I’ll call Snowball’s adventure number one, so we’re about halfway through my story.

Some time later that same summer, another entertaining encounter occurred, this time between me, Snowball and a large robin hunting worms in the yard. Again, I was sitting on the back steps, resting and watching when I observed this sequence of events; Snowball, lying just in front of me, spotted the robin and began a very slow and stealthy advance, every muscle tensed and every step measured and silent. So focused was he that I was mesmerized into watching each move of both cat and bird. Would the bird sense the approach and fly away before Snowball could reach him? Would Snowball make a mistake and give himself away, or just get bored and ignore the robin? No chance of that I thought, with the sheer intensity of the silent stalking beginning to make me wonder if I was about to witness a near-miss, mugging, or worse, a cold-blooded murder. 

Should I intervene, and if so, how? Should I continue my well-deserved rest and much-enjoyed entertainment? Soon, I would have to decide, so why not just scare the bird away and end the problem? That’s what I decided to do, but the way I did it created even more excitement in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Neither had Snowball.

I picked up a pebble and threw it generally towards the robin, but it never got that far, because it hit Snowball on top of his head instead. All the pent up tension, anticipation and drama dissipated in a split second, as I witnessed Snowball launch himself straight up into air about five or six feet! Can a cat really do that? Snowball did! In mid-air, he twisted and turned in multiple orientations before hitting the ground - feet first - then taking off like a rocket, also in what seemed to be several directions all at once. I’ve never seen any animal move that quickly, and doubt I will again.

Needless to say, the robin just flew off to find another worm in another place, hopefully without a predatory cat in the vicinity. I didn’t see Snowball for a while after that, but when I did, he seemed somewhat miffed at me, but maybe that was just my imagination. So, my rest and entertainment over, I again returned to weed the garden.

Short Stories: The Storm

As the young helmsman struggled to keep DDR 880 headed into the waves, he braced himself firmly - feet wide apart - against the ship’s wheel to keep from slipping or falling. In the chaos of the storm, it was sometimes difficult to tell from which direction the waves were coming, but the helmsman knew the ship could not withstand a broadside attack. He, a new Midshipman, had been pressed into service when the experienced Bosun’s Mates and Quartermasters usually assigned the special Sea & Anchor detail were so depleted they could not function. 

The vessel, designed to withstand rolls up to 57 degrees before ‘turning turtle’ or capsizing, was already reaching 45 degrees - port and starboard - in addition to pitching violently. More troubling, DDR 880 carried heavy topside electronic gear necessary to perform her duty as Radar Picket, providing early warning alerts to the Task Force or Fleet she was assigned. The steady onslaught of 45-foot waves - equivalent to 5-story buildings from trough to crest - was sorely testing her endurance, as well as that of the crew, over half of which were incapacitated from severe seasickness, vertigo, exhaustion, or injury sustained during the storm. Below decks, floor surfaces sloshed with vomit so often that keeping the mops busy and toilets flushing almost continuously was necessary. Long before, cooks in the galley had given up trying to prepare regular food requiring trays and utensils, instead turning out sandwiches, soda crackers and coffee. 

No one ventured out on the main deck without an emergency mission, lifejacket, a rope to belay themselves, and a buddy, because danger of being washed overboard was almost certain. Besides, all water-tight doors and hatches were dogged and secure. In time, these precautions might be relaxed, but now they were strictly enforced for ship integrity and crew safety. Indeed, it was difficult to even traverse interior passages without walking on one bulkhead or the other in between steps on the deck. Crew members trying to rest had to strap themselves into their bunks to prevent rolling onto a deck or bulkhead. 

At the height of the 3-day storm, waves raked the ship with such force that plexiglass windows on the bridge were shattered, soaking those inside with cold seawater, plus the knowledge that the storm could get worse before it got better. Worse, DDR 880 now needed fuel, as much for ballast as for propulsion, and normally was never more than 2 or 3 days from replenishment. Empty fuel tanks were not helping to control the heavy rolling, just the opposite. Just before the storm peaked, the ship actually took ‘green water’ down the forward stack, quenching its number one boiler; definitely not a recommended event!

Gradually, as the storm subsided, shipboard routines began their return to normal and the crew readied itself for their next challenge; that of approaching, then steaming alongside a large auxiliary ship - an Oiler - to refill its fuel bunkers. While two ships thus travel close together, the seas always run rough and turbulent between them, even in calm conditions. With the storm not yet over, steadily navigating side-by-side this close to another vessel was tricky enough by itself, without the necessary complication of hooking up to an overhead hose system that allowed fuel to be pumped across the span of 200 to 300 feet of turbulent water running wildly past. But, with this needed task at hand, crew members carefully prepared to venture onto the main deck and man the ropes to pull the fuel hoses over from the Oiler, then hook them up and begin to receive the heavy residual oil - called ‘Bunker C’ - into DDR 880’s tanks. 

The first monkey-fist weighted leader line was twirled and thrown over from the Oiler and caught, then hauled in by the crew, allowing a larger line -tied to the leader- to follow. This larger line was for actually hauling over the fuel hoses, a task that proved overly difficult, forcing the crew to either let it go, or risk being pulled overboard. Again, the Oiler’s monkey fist flew, bringing the leader line over to DDR 880, and again the attempt failed. By this time the crew, being thoroughly wet, knew the drill and the new danger hauling the refueling hoses over entailed. Again and again, the monkey fist made a brief visit to the vessel, failing four more times to bring over the hoses. Finally, the seventh attempt succeeded, allowing sufficient fuel to be pumped into the thirsty vessel to sustain it for a few days, until it made port in the Bay of Biscay.

Relief came at last for the tired crew and damaged equipment aboard, as the storm’s fury finally blew itself out. Later, in swapping sea stories, we learned that other ships had also dealt with traumatic conditions that threatened damage almost as severe as DDR 880. In fact, two newer vessels with experimental aluminum superstructures, suffered structural failure and personnel casualties, requiring their being towed into Portsmouth, England for extensive repairs. 

What the young helmsman learned was that the sea was a mighty force that could not be tamed, especially in a storm, but could be carefully coaxed into allowing ships and men to live for another voyage, if one had the necessary skills and experience. From the moment his ship made port, he committed those lessons to indelible memory, to be used again whenever ocean conditions might threaten.

The remainder of DDR 880’s cruise was relatively uneventful as far as excitement is concerned. Nevertheless, both helmsman and crew seemed to approach each day with newfound awareness of what could happen and how best to deal with it. This is the essence of training, including development of teamwork and safety consciousness. Respect for the sea is a tradition with mariners, particularly those who survive for long. Poseidon does rule the waves, but also all things nautical; this is not just mysticism, but eternal reality! Davy Jones awaits those incautious enough to dare him.

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Short Stories: The Sentinel

The Sentinel

The observer remained motionless in the dark, his black cloak masking every feature except for his own faint silhouette whenever the clouds thinned. He was naturally well-suited to this job as a trusted sentinel, having spent several years training his keen night vision, hearing and sense of smell into a formidable ability to immediately detect the slightest movement or change in his surroundings, whether due to the wind or other causes. He also had the remarkable ability to keep stealthily alert for long periods and still remain poised without discomfort; traits easily noticed and admired by those who knew him. It was a lonely job, but an important one, and this sentinel actually enjoyed the silence, independence and personal satisfaction it provided. But, he also knew -with certainty- that he would be handsomely rewarded after each such successful vigil.
Every night, as his wards slept soundly, the sentinel would leave his post just before dawn and carefully patrol the perimeter until he was satisfied that all was well. Then, he would quietly make his way back to his next assigned position, recalling as he went what he had seen, heard and sensed during this latest watch. He did this instinctively, summoning all his training, innate cunning and the genetically inherited characteristics of his unique breeding.

Off-duty, the sentinel assumed a different personality, enjoying activities with those he liked, regularly visiting favorite haunts, napping often and eating well. Yet, he maintained his fitness and health easily and without much effort at all. A remarkable physical specimen with a pleasing personality, he was widely admired and liked. But, this he seemed to take in stride as simply befitting his nature. He did dislike loud noise, confinement, traveling in vehicles not under his control, and being bothered or threatened by unwelcome visitors. And, occasionally, he liked to chase and kill. Gideon was his given name, although he rarely answered to it. He preferred certain other nicknames instead, but communicated vocally only as it suited him, and in a style all his own. No one took exception to these peculiarities, least of all those who knew him.

This particular name - Gideon - seemed to fit him, since it conveyed the image of an Old Testament Biblical hero who was appointed by God to defeat numerous enemies of Israel, using only 300 men - an ancient equivalent of modern day special forces, or the Spartans defending Thermopylae.
That Gideon had also reconnoitered the enemy camp at night, gathered intelligence, then launched a surprise attack, using bugles and torches to frighten Israel’s greatly larger force of enemies into first attacking themselves, then retreating in a rout. The victorious Gideon then reluctantly served as Israel’s ruler and esteemed judge for 40 years thereafter, dying in old age after siring 70 sons.
Should one deduce that Gideon was not an ordinary human, they are right, although his family of friends considered him capable of human traits, motives and reactions. He inspired such comparisons because he effortlessly endeared himself to - almost - anyone he met.

The sentinel’s actual name, bestowed upon his adoption was Giddy Gato, a quasi-Italian inspired version of ‘Kitty Cat’. It was strange enough to be noticed, yet accepted by most that came to know him. Most came to call him just ‘Giddy’. He was a member of the species ‘Felis Catus', an ancient group of mammals thought to have been domesticated in the Middle East almost 10,000 years ago. He was a Bombay cat, a type of short-haired cat developed by breeding sable Burmese with black American shorthairs, thus producing a hybrid with a sleek, tight, silky, black coat, resembling a mini-panther.

Kitten Gideon first found his wards by silently moving through ferns in a forest area when only 4 months old. Immediately adopted, he lived with them almost 11 years. One day, as his wards returned home from a trip, it was apparent that something was seriously wrong with Giddy, who was normally healthy. Now, he seemed lethargic, had visibly lost weight, and didn't respond to the usual irresistible enticements for food and fun. His wards waited a week, then took him to the vet for examination, definitely not his favorite activity.

The test results weren’t exactly good, so a different diet was prescribed, along with medications. This gave the wards hope; then came results indicating troubling abnormalities. Biopsy tests showed positive, still his wards remained in denial that Giddy had a dire disease from which recovery was doubtful. The wards paid more attention to Giddy than he could fully appreciate. This worked initially, but his downward trend resumed, so after two days of not eating or drinking and barely moving, Giddy was back at the vet again for intravenous re-hydration.

This time, the vet was blunt with the diagnosis, and the wards got the full message; Giddy was dying, and it was only a matter of days or weeks before his demise.
Although the implications had been right there in front all the while, the wards had chosen to hear only those parts they wanted to hear - that Giddy would improve and optimistically, his life might extend up to a year longer - but with suffering.
Yet, again, Giddy responded well to his new regimen, rallied strongly, gained weight and acted closer to normal, although without his old strength and vitality. Then, began his final decline, culminating with a peaceful death. Giddy had sensed that his time was approaching, and like most animals, was better prepared for it than humans.

One thing will always remain; our faithful sentinel - and watchcat -still honors our home, as his ashes reside in a memorial white urn, marked ‘Giddy Gato 08-08-08’. And, of course, our memories of the little creature that had miraculously invited himself into our home; had adopted US, loved us, enriched us, entertained us, and had brought much joy to the entire neighborhood.
Now, our refrigerator door magnet proclaims 'A House Is Not A Home Without A Cat’.