daily scratchpad

(4)

When it came time to leave The Goose I felt duty-bound to inform Kootch of my infidelity. We had corresponded by letter and audio tape all the while we were apart, and so I broke the news to her in a letter. There was no way I could do it on tape. Kootch never answered my letter. I had suggested that since she was already in Japan with the kids, she had the moral right to stay in Japan with them and divorce me. I had planned, in the event Kootch elected to stay in Japan, to go the alternative route: move (eventually) to Detroit where Ellinor and I could hook up across the border.

Kootch decided to return to The States and wait for me at my mother's house. When I saw the (being gassed here - LLG) look on my mother's face as she answered the door in Atlanta I knew the answer.

Kootch forgave me (tap), leaving me with the other extremely unpleasant task of informing My Schatze in Goose Bay. (She nevertheless visited me later in Rapid City South Dakota. We had a tearful goodbye. I remember following her bus to the next city one night, looking in vain for one last glimpse of her.)

Kootch and I and the kids made our way to our new assignment at Ellsworth AFB in Rapid City SD. There we finished out our tour. I had grown to dislike military service intensely by that time and when our tour was over we headed for the closest (tap) metropolis, Denver Colorado. I knew I could get a job there as an electronic technician. Fuck the Air Force!

(3)

I'll leave the value judgements concerning this infidelity to you, and what you think of it is none of my business. I'd like to show you a photograph of my 'schatze,' of course, but I threw away the several that I had many years ago.

Places to 'do it' were few and far between on The Goose. We both lived in barracks surrounded by other people. So, after our first sexual encounter in a small hotel near The Goose I bought an old used four-door Buick. Thereafter we would drive out to a private area on-base. I remember two incidents (tap) from those trysts. The first was an occasion where we were parked near the active runway. We were in the back seat doing our thing when we were illuminated by bright lights. I thought the Air Police had discovered us, and I bounded naked over the seat and started the car. Turned out to be an airplane landing near us. On another occasion she got out of the car (after we had done our thing) to pee. She made the mistake of doing it in front of the car and I playfully flashed the headlights on her. She was pissed.

The photograph shows me and 'Pete,' my roommate. We were (tap) drinking buddies as well as roommates. The back of the photo says that we were at 'Silva's house.' Silva was a senior NCO who was allowed to bring his family to The Goose. Pete told me in confidence one night in the NCO Club that while we were all sitting around a large table together he had put his hand between the legs of Silva's wife and she had not resisted. I would never have had the balls to do something like that.

I first tasted pussy on The Goose. I later discovered that there was virtually no difference in the taste of German Pussy and Japanese Pussy.

(2)

What at first seemed like a family tragedy turned out to be beneficial: Kootch and the kids got to spend eighteen months with the Japanese half of their family, while I got to experience a new environment, including new pussy. I had gained weight as an old married man in Salina, and my life had become somewhat dull. But 'The Goose' turned out to be interesting. There were college classes to attend, for one thing, and I took advantage of that and did a class in 'American History' (I think). I met new and interesting people, including a Christian religious nut who seemed to be on the path of converting the world to Jesus. He was a nice guy, but inadvertently funny. And I lost weight without even trying.

But the most interesting person I met on The Goose was a woman about my age from Germany. She worked at the NCO Club as a waitress. She spoke excellent English, but with a typical German accent. I took a fancy to her immediately. I decided to 'court' her. She liked me, and after quite some time we ended up in the sack. Pussy was rare on The Goose unless you had brought it with you, so I felt quite lucky to have 'landed' her. Her name was, Ellinor, and she was from Munich. Her goal was to become a Canadian citizen (or an American citizen). She was a charming, good-looking, intelligent, high class woman. She was also, of course, a good fuck (tap).

The most remarkable thing about my tour of duty on The Goose was the improvement in my mood (tap). Whereas I had been living a slightly depressed existence in Salina, my mood became much improved on The Goose. I felt that I was more alive (another tap by the insane piece of Jewish dogshit above) than ever. It was very counter-intuitive.

(1)

Interesting photo of Jesus here. Jesus, as usual, is not looking too happy, but it can't be because of the unusual 'canvas.'

Moving from religion to science, this photograph preserves a sexual theme which unites the two.

And this lady obviously loves cake, among other things.

Christmas cookies, Christmas buns.

Culinary advice.

The major religions.

And don't forget politics.

(4)

My ass-hole father would supply the folks on Offutt AFB with yet another reason to get rid of me. He mailed me a typewritten copy of a manuscript, asking that I read it and give him my comments. What a nerve! The son of a bitch had abandoned us and failed to pay child support and we had ended up in the orphanage and now he wanted my evaluation of his stupid book?! Sheeeit.

The title of the book was, 'The Black Seed.' It was about a special type of cotton seed. The novel was an historical novel of the Charleston area back in the Civil War era. I found it competent but not exactly thrilling. It was not my kind of reading. I wrote him a letter concerning my impression of the book. The letter amounted to 'faint praise.' I did not mail back the manuscript.

Some weeks or months later I received a telephone call from some colonel who advised me that my father had called SAC Headquarters and complained that I had neglected to return his manuscript and would the Air Force see to it that I did so. Yeeesh. I think the son of a bitch got drunk one night and, infuriated by my lack of enthusiasm for his stupid book, called general Powers, who bucked the job down to said colonel. I mailed back the manuscript.

It is impossible to say that these two incidents had any bearing on my reassignment, of course, but before long I had orders to pack my bags and head to Goose Bay, Labrador - sans family - for an eighteen month tour. I, in turn, assigned Kootch and the kids to an eighteen month tour of duty in Japan. This is their passport photo.

(3)

Somebody in the USAF took the 'recommended assignment' seriously and we were ordered to SAC Headquarters at Offutt AFB, Nebraska. We rented a small house in Plattsmouth and I strung up an antenna for my radio. My job at Offutt was to help maintain the ATC radar equipment (ATC = Air Traffic Control) consisting of a search radar and a precision approach radar. The job was much more interesting than the one in Salina and consisted mostly of preventive maintenance (mister tap-tap is alternating between tapping (boom) on the floor or wall to my upper left and to my upper right) and performance checks and alignments, and included a rotating shift.

One of my co-workers, an airman named Bachman, obviously disliked me right from the beginning, and may have been a Jew suffering from serious penis envy. Bachman was the only name I remember from that otherwise unremarkable group: 'Friends you remember; enemies you remember more.' Of course I would not associate 'Bachman' and 'Jew' until many years later in Denver. I had always wondered why (among others) Bachman disliked me, and even today 'Jewish penis envy' (or 'tribal penis envy') seems the most likely reason.

Six months or so after moving into the house in Plattsmouth the Air Force ordered me to move again, this time 'to on-base housing'. I resisted the idea but they insisted. After we moved in, I again strung up my short wave antenna, this time to a pole planted in a hole I had dug. This infuriated some dumbass colonel who called me into his office, chewed me out, then ordered me to remove the pole and fill in the hole. I complied, of course, but my popularity (boom) had obviously taken a downturn.

(2)

Jenniffer Anne was born in Mississippi. We were hoping for a boy this time, and when the good doctor gave me the news that it was a girl I said, 'Oh well, back to the drawing boards.' He laughed. We rented a small house in Mississippi City, not far from Keesler, and Kootch went back to being a full time mom-housewife. I revisited the place on the drive to Florida, and found a slightly different house. It had been destroyed by a hurricane and been rebuilt. I suppose it was destroyed again by Katrina.

The training at Keesler was unremarkable except for the beginning: they mistakenly assigned me to basic computer school. I tried to correct the problem to no avail. After several days they realized the mistake and sent me to basic electronic school where I belonged. Basic electronics was really interesting. I was fascinated by amplifiers (mister boom-boom has calmed down now and become mister tap-tap again), modulators, antennas, etc., and even developed a hobby based on my new knowlege: short wave listening. I built a short wave receiver (and bought a better one later) and heard radio broadcasts from all over the world including Radio Havanna Cuba (during the Cuban Missle Crisis!), the BBC, Radio Australia, and Radio Moscow. The photo shows me listening to the store-bought Hammerlund HQ-145X.

(1)

The job of Base Supply Illustrator was easy and boring - and a dead end. I needed to learn something I could use in civilian life. So in exchange for another four years of my services the USAF agreed to retrain me as a radar technician. I was hoping for the ultimate assignment: as a technician at an air base somewhere in Japan. (As I type this, mister tap-tap upstairs is doing his thing and the skin on my scrotum feels like it is crawling. A typical morning living among the insane.)

Meanwhile, Kootch had adjusted to life in America, learned how to drive, and got a job at the NCO Club to help make ends meet. I continued to read philosophy and also took some evening college classes (psychology, sociology, philosophy). I also developed an interest in astronomy and bought a small telescope (2.4 inch Unitron refractor). And I continued to study chess. I had played and studied the game quite a lot in Japan (having learned it about age 16).

After five years in Salina we were assigned to the Air Training Command at Keesler AFB, Mississippi. But before we left Salina Somebody at Schilling - (oops: I called it 'Ellsworth' in a previous post. Ellsworth comes later) - decided to 'reward me' for my service at Base supply by giving me the Air Force Commendation Metal. It was a 'last minute' sort of thing. The nomination carried a 'suggested assignment' recommendation. The person writing up the recommendation suggested, 'higher headquarters,' not 'Japan.' Nobody bothered to ask me, of course, whether I had any kind of preference. The medal was presented to me at Keesler. I declined a 'ceremony.' I also failed (mister tap-tap is now mister boom-boom) either to read the recommendation or take the opportunity to let the USAF know my real preference. Again, nobody asked me. The result was that Kootch and I probably missed our last chance to return to Japan (boom).

(3)

I realized of course that I had been taught some very good moral ideas by the priests and nuns, but most everything else was crap. I retained much of the morality as, 'self evident,' and rejected the rest. It wasn't that I became some sort of 'moral saint,' far from it; but I retained much of the moral teaching and tried to apply it to my life. Of course I did not think it a good idea to indoctrinate my children into my inherited religion. Nor did Kootch. We raised them as natural human beings who could see that there was a big difference between right and wrong, and that they should strive to do the right.

Did it work? Well, last I heard, neither of them became a suicide bomber, or wasted their lives away in a convent. Excessive religion was not a problem for them. I don't think they ever learned the concept of, 'sin.' Regarding sex education, I relied entirely on Kootch to inform them. Neither of them ever asked m(stomp above me)e a question about sex (that I can remember).

As for me, I settled on the Scientific Method as the most reliable guide for discovering 'the truth' about things. I even made it a family ritual to watch every episode of Carl Sagan's Cosmos. We saw them all together at least once.

Kootch was the tolerant mother, whereas I was the stern father. They could always hide behind Kootch. I was not the 'perfect' father, of course, but I took pride in the fact that I had done a much better job of parenting than either of my parents had done before me (another stomp).

(2)

I never met his wife, whom, he said, thought that the idea of 'Angels' was 'disgusting.' We were strictly 'lunch buddies.' But I enjoyed a good argument and didn't like being on the losing side. So I visited the Salina Public Library and checked out an 'exposition' of Thomas Aquinas' ideas (which I learned in high school and then promptly forgot).

Aquinas made no dent in this guy's arguments, but I discovered the 'Philosophy Section' right next to the 'Religion Section' in the library. I began reading philosophy. Revelation! I discovered that Aquinas' arguments belonged to a branch of philosophy called, 'metaphysics,' and that it (metaphysics) was by no means the only way to think about things. I stopped arguing religion with my friend and we turned to economics. I recall only one of the discussions: he argued for 'mom and pop' businesses, whereas I argued for massive businesses. I convinced him.

Meanwhile my philosophy studies convinced me intellectually of what my experiences with priests and nuns had already convinced me emotionally: Judeo-Christianity sucks.

(1)

'Kathleen' was acceptable enough, since I also had an aunt named, 'Kathleen.' She turned out (faint boom) to be a very charming young lady. This is a photograph of Kathy at about age four, taken in Salina Kansas by a professional photographer.

Meanwhile I learned my new job of 'Technical Illustrator' by doing it. Most of the job consisted of making specialized prints of various sizes using a 'Leroy Set.' Later there was an endless series of charts and graphs, and as Base Supply began to enter the computer age, training aids. I got quite good at the job, such as it was. During slack days I would help out in the 'voucher section' with the job of putting 'vouchers' in numerical order for storage and retrival (if necessary).

One of my co-workers - a civilian - triggered my next 'revolution.' We would eat lunch together and discuss various subjects, especially politics and religion (no sex at all, of course: like me, he was married and hetero). But he was an Atheist! Wow. What an opportunity to save his immortal soul!

Unfortunately (or fortunately - take your pick) his arguments turned out to be superior to mine.

(1)

Kootch and Kathleen eventually joined me in Salina (Home of Ellsworth AFB: Ellsworth was home of the 310th Bomb Wing, which flew B-47s. The base was also home to an air-refueling wing of KC-97s.) The American Red Cross paid for her air fare.

We rented a basement apartment from these folks (this nice lady's husband is not shown here). Later, we moved up to a small house.

After two years in fablous Tokyo Japan I suffered from a serious case of culture shock upon arriving in the sleepy town of Salina, Kansas, middle of nowhere. Kootch's culture shock was even worse than mine. Poor girl. 'This is America!?'

(2)

Immediately after our marriage the USAF revoked my 'crypto' clearance and I was placed on 'casual status' awaiting further assignment. My career as a Radio Traffic Analyst was over. I had only a few weeks left in my two year tour in Japan, and as a result I was shipped back to the U.S. at the end of that time. Kootch stayed in Japan because we simply did not have the funds to fly her to America. Kootch's family had born the expense of the wedding, including my tailor-made black suit) and the honeymoon, and I couldn't bring myself to ask for any more handouts. Anyway, they deserved to nurture Kootch through her pregnancy. Kathleen was born while Kootch was still in Japan. The result of that was that the family could adopt her emotionally in a very special way as one of them despite her mixed genetic heritage. Meanwhile, I was shipped to Kelly AFB, Texas where I discovered television (in the 'day room') and my favorite program at the time, American Bandstand.

When I was interviewed for my next job in the USAF, retraining was not an option (I had too little time left). The interviewer asked me if I had any hobbies. 'Huh?' Anything you like to do and are good at? I replied that, 'well I like to draw...'

Those fatefull words (boom) landed me an assignment in Salina, Kansas, as the Base Supply Illustrator. I had absolutely no idea what an 'illustrator' was.

Meanwhile, Kootch and I kept in touch by mail. Regarding name, I had suggested 'Raymond Charles' if it was a boy, and 'Cathrine' if it was a girl. When asked for a name, kootch replied, 'kah sah leen.' The nurse wrote down, 'Kathleen.' Kootch tells me she noticed that the spelling was different but, 'What the heck...' No middle name was recorded.

(1)

I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here, but on the subject of 'family'... Hmm. I just tried to upload another photograph, but encountered the same problems that plagued me this morning on Enough... I suspect the problem (tap) is interference on the cable, generated by hackers working for Gerash. I take it that the faggot Gerash would rather (sorry Dan) you not know too much about Kootch and her family.
Ahah! Tried it again and it worked immediately this time. This picture was taken while Kootch was in Japan with the kids while I was doing an eighteen month stretch in Goose Bay Labrador, back in 1964.

In case it is not already obvious, I 'married up.' Left to right are: Kootch's Mother, Sister, Jenny (our youngest daughter), Sister's Husband, Kathy (our oldest), Kootch's Youngest brother, Kootch, and Kootch's only other Brother. Kootch's (boom) Father is missing, having been killed (boom) on Luzon during WWII.

(2)

My new extended family.
As you can see from my socks, I am clueless about fashion. I wouldn't learn to wear dark socks until I was out of the Air Force and working for Honeywell. The guy on the left is the photographer. His slight smile suggests he may be thinking about those socks...

(1)

The wedding Party. Hitzmann's girlfriend is standing behind him. Kootch's horrified mother is sitting next to her. Kootch's grandfather is seated on the left.

(3)

These are from the reception after the wedding. Father Michel is telling jokes in english and Japanese as we all drink beer or cider. The guy on the extreme left is 'Hitzmann' (forgot his first name). He was the only Catholic I knew and he agreed to be my best man. He brought his Japanese girlfriend with him. Bases near Tokyo were restricted at the time because of a flu epidemic and we were the only two G.I.s at the wedding.

We did a brief honeymoon in Kinugawa near Nikko but stayed only one night because we missed Tokyo.

(2)

Our official wedding picture. We were married twice, for some reason, two days apart. I think the other marriage was done at the American Embassy to satisfy governmental requirements. I was a (lapsed) Catholic at the time. Kootch agreed to 'convert' from her vague cultural mix of Shintoism and Buddhism and we were 'married in the Church.' She took her instructions from a French missionary who lived in Tokyo, a 'Father Michel' (pronounced 'Michelle'). He was also the priest who married us. Nice fella!

Apparently the instructions didn't 'take.' Kootch showed no interest in attending Sunday mass when we were reunited later in Salina, Kansas. That was fine with me. In fact I was relieved that she wouldn't be dragging me to church every Sunday.

My last confession was to Father Michel. What an ordeal! All that pussy... I think the good father was shocked, but he recovered well.

(1)

This photograph was taken at the Gajo-en Kanko hotel ballroom in Shinju-ku, another gathering place for GIs at the time. Our favorite dance was the 'Cha-cha,' but of course we loved the Waltz and the Tango too, as well as the others.

Kootch was really big on dancing, back in those days. On a lark, she joined a group of girls who would visit various U.S. bases and dance with the G.I.s at the Officer or NCO club. Apparently the club would pay (tap) the person in charge, who would then give the girls a cut of the take.

I met her at the Shiroi AFB Airmen's Club. The club had a raised dance floor, and when the guy she was dancing with spun her around I could see her panties. It was love at first sight. I asked her to dance and one thing led to another, and another...

(2)

This is Kootch today, returning with the Sunday newspaper. After fifty years of wear and tear she still looks pretty good, at least from a distance.

Kootch and I recently got quite a shock after using the new camera to take close-ups of ourselves. I'm even thinking of downgrading my 'description' from 'handsome and chubby' to 'old and fat.'

(1)

With Kootch at the Rocker Four Club in Tokyo about '56-'57. We would drink and dance for much of the evening, then head for our favorite little hotel not far from Kootch's home. We called the hotel, 'Fuku-chan's' after the maid who always showed us our room and waited on us. After settling in we would take a 'Japanese bath' together. The bath consisted of wetting oneself down outside of the tub, then soaping up and rinsing off. Only after one was clean and rinsed was one allowed to soak in the very hot water in the tub. After the bath we would go to our room and fuck our brains out, then order Osoba. After all that, Kootch would get dressed and walk home. She would be back in the morning to wake me up and start us off on the day.

(1)

Been enjoying (enduring?) a fun new game of C-III this week. It began auspiciously: I got the entire continent to myself, no assholish neighbors. Then the Russians showed up; then the Egyptians. The Ruskis were unwise enough to build a city on 'my' continent, and when the Egyptians attacked that city (unsuccessfully) I destroyed it and established one of my own, then made peace with them. But they attacked me later, And so I bribed the Egyptians onto going to war with me against the Russians. But about halfway through our 20-move agreement the Barfalonians attacked me! So I made peace with Russia while I defended against the Barfs. This pissed off the Egyptians. (Being RF'd here at 1327.) Not only that: I got the reputation of not living up to my agreements and as a result nobody would ally with me. Things went downhill from there. I ended up fighting most of the rest of the world (even France!) simultaneously as, one by one, they attacked me. I survived, of course, due to my excellent defensive skills. I eventually made peace with each of them and was able to finish off Russia. As matters now stand, I am waaay behind in technology, although I dominate the world in terms of sheer military power. It's going to be a long slog. Moral of the story: keep your agreements, at least in C-III.