Memorial Day 2025

Yesterday, Sheila and I made the annual trek to Sallisaw to decorate our family graves. It was a cold and rainy day and we did not get to enjoy a few moments over the graves, silently remembering and in our hearts speaking to our beloved family members who have passed on.  We simply put the flowers out and got out of the rain and wind as quickly as we could.  Mom, Dad, Uncle Gene, Uncle Charlely you deserve more attention than you got this year.  But, Sheila was barefoot in the puddles and my shoes were soaked.  We were both shivering in the wind.  I'm sure you understand.

I was disappointed to see that the local American Legion had not (at least yet) placed flags on my father's and my Uncle Charley's graves.

As we were getting ready to leave, I asked Sheila to dig around her purse and find a penny for me. I never carry change. There is a tradition among veterans. When you visit another veterans grave, you leave a coin. A penny means that another veteran was there showing his respect. Larger coins mean more about your relationship.

I always visit the grave of a young army captain who would have been about about my age.  He is buried near my family's graves. I didn't know him but knew members of his family.  He was one of the last graduates of the Oklahoma Military Academy.  He died in Viet Nam on my birthday in 1970 trying to rescue a number of wounded that had been left behind by their retreating unit. The citation for his Silver Star, America’s second highest award for valor, says that he personally pulled two of the wounded back to safety and died with a third in his arms. Many of the best men of my generation died in that useless jungle geo-political escapade now just vaguely remembered as the Viet Nam "conflict." In years past, I would I would often find other coins on his headstone. This year, there was only mine.

It was a necessary but disappointing trip.  But, we had the living to think about as well.  Sheila's sister and her husband are both quite ill and were past due for a visit.  We took them food and then took them  for a little drive up in the hills to visit an old hangout or two. It seemed to cheer them up a bit.

Maybe next year we can spend more time.

 

The Kona Chronicles - Beginning

It's been over a decade since Sheila and I bought a new car.  We are by nature frugal and I take very good care of my automobiles so they usually last until I get tired of them. And then Sheila drives them some more.  Had the insurance company not, over my strenous objections, totalled my beloved 2011 Sonata which ran like a Swiss watch, I would still be driving it.

We had been discussing buying a new car for over a year and were torn between the Hyundai Kona which gets  high ratings for reliabilty and value and the Buick Envista which is stylish and cute.  We settled on the Hyundai because of the superior warranty and the fact that Buick's tiny three cylinder supercharged engine makes the car while cute as button over complicated under the hood and still badly underpowered.  

But, deciding to buy a Hyundia and actually buying one are two very different things.  They make wonderful cars that offer incredible value for the money.  But, you have to buy the car in spite of their dealers rather than with their help.  We made several initial attempts over several months and every time the dealership frustrated us so badly that we just quit looking.  Hyundai USA should pay a lot more attention to the quality and training of their sales force.

At one dealership we were met in the lot by a friendly, well dressed guy about our age who did the preliminary sales talk.  But, when we walked into the showroom he "handed us off" to a young man with dreadlocks,urban athletic clothing and an attitude that we did not find conducive to favoring with our business.  Hyundai USA should take a lesson from Bud Light and scrap DEI.  Some of us find it insulting.

At another dealership, the very young sales person knew absolutely nothing about the car and when we asked questions would pull out his phone and Google for information.  When he couldn't Google an answer and asked a more senior person on the floor that person said, "Go ask Jimmy.  He knows about this stuff."  Apparently Jimmy was the only person in the building that had studied the brochures.  Hyundai USA dealers, here is message for you, customers Google too and in many of  your dealerships they may walk in knowing more about the cars than your so called sales people. Get rid of your identity politics token employees and hire a few professional salespeople who know the product and know how to serve a customer.

At this dealership, we asked to test drive a new vehicle and they found the battery was dead.  After they tried jumping the car they found the gas tank was empty.  So, we spent nearly an  hour sitting around the dealership waiting for them to get a new car on their lot able to drive around for a few blocks.  Hyudai USA dealers here is another message. Keep your stock in good shape and in running condition.  Buyers will want to drive the car and will not be impressed if it won't start.

After several more disappointments at dealers around the area I decided to give the last dealership a second chance.  Even though they are about a forty five minute drive away and their sales department is virtually non-existent, they do have a reputation for having the best service department in the region.  Since Hyundai gives a 5/60 bumper to bumper, 10/100 drivetrain warranty and free oil changes and regular service for the first several years you own the car the service department is important. 

So, I emailed the general manager of the dealership, told him where the car we wanted was located at another dealership about half an hour away and asked him for appointment to talk business.  My proposition was straightforward.  They would appraise our trade in and if the final price was reasonable I would give them a cashiers check for the amount due.  THE DEALERSHIP DID NOT ANSWER MY EMAIL.

In desperation, we finally went to the dealership where the car we wanted was located.  After a couple of really frustrating situations with them in previous years with different cars I had sworn I would never walk onto that lot again.  But, we already knew which car we wanted right down to the VIN number and had already determined what we would pay for it.  Surely we could get through that.  

The very young salesman who approached was friendly and helpful.  I knew we were being hustled but he was giving us the information and access we needed so I went along for the ride.  At least his line of BS was entertaining and he didn't look like a thug. The car we wanted was ready for a test drive so I drove it for a while and then we went downtown to Sheila's office and she drove it around a while.  We were gone at least an hour and half.  We already knew what we were willing to do.  The obligatory negotiations followed and later that evening we drove away in the car.  

However, the young man who did all of the work was not the salesperson who appeared on the paperwork.  We had apparently once again been "handed off" to another person.  I was left wondering if the dealership was not pulling the same stunt insurance companies use.  They "hire" junior salespeople as trainees, milk them for all of their personal contacts, only give them part if any of their commissions or worse get them into the hole on a draw and then let them go when the stream of new leads dries up.

A real sour note was their "business manager" actually their F&I man.  Sheila and both worked the F&I market a long time ago and we know the tricks.  This guy spent too much time hard selling us an expensive secondary warranty that would kick in after the very generous Hyundai warranty expires.  He tried to scare us by telling us how delicate the electronics of new cars had become and how expensive it is to repair them.  I was tempted to say, "Well if that's true give me my check back and I'll go buy a low mileage pre-electronics, pre-computer used car." 

Sheila was an executive in the company that underwrote the US extended warranty program for one of the Japanese big three.  We know what those warranties cost.  But, the scare tactics, cheap sales methods and "I'll only do this price reduction for you" statements reduced his credibility to zero in my eyes.  Hyundai USA dealers here is another message.  Set a fair fixed price for your extended warranty and stick to it.  Don't encourage your F&I people to cast doubt on the quality of your product and ruin the credibility of the whole dealership over a few hundred dollars in commissions.  If this guy had just spent a few moments explaining the benefits of the program without the scare tactics and then offered a reasonable price we might have bought it.    

After all is said and done, we are happy with the little car.  It is comfortable, peppy enough and gets great fuel economy.  It is small but handy.  We averaged 35 mpg at 75 mph on a trip this weekend.  I only wish Hyundai offered it with their more powerful 2.0 L Theta normally aspirated engine instead of the turbo option. Sheila will drive it to work and around town and we will use it for travel.  My well kept but aging Sonata will remain my every day vehicle.  Sheila likes the new car.  It is her first new off the lot car.  In the past she had always driven my hand-me-downs.   And, it is something like her beloved ancient Nissan SUV from decades ago that I made her get rid of when it was no longer safe to drive and uneconomical to repair.  

But above all, thank heavens we won't have to deal with car salesmen for a long time in the future if ever again.

Postscript:

The saga continues.  Soon after we purchased the vehicle I got a call from the younger salesperson saying that they "required" three referrals on each sale.  I was taken aback by the hubris.  I didn't say what I should have said but simply replied, "I am not inclined to do that."  Did they seriously think I was going let them more or less order me to give them the names of three of my friends just because I was buying a car from them?  The very thought was insulting.  I am not about to share my friends contact information with anyone much less a car salesman and I would be highly unhappy with a friend that did.  

Then the calls began concerning their performance review.  The younger salesman almost begged me for a good review saying that they actually got paid on their review performance.  He offered to buy us a free tank of gas if we would fill out the review in the dealership.  I told him I didn't have the car.  Then the calls began from the older salesperson whose name appeared on the paperwork.  Every couple of days with texts and emails as well.  It was getting annoying quickly.  I find the thought of asking for a good review and then thinking you can buy one with a tank of gas insulting.  Seriously.  Do a good job with your customers and then don't worry about the reviews.  The reviews will take care of themselves.

Hyundai USA here is final message.  You sell fine quality products.  They have a great reputation here in the US.  Make sure your dealerships sales tactics match that reputation.

Music and Madness in April

 April was an interesting month.  Two of the highlights were that we had a chance to enjoy some really good home brew music and Sheial and some of my friends thought I had gone insane for a while.

My old friend Robert Smith is a truly gifted country/western/swing musician.  I was pleased to learn that one of my friends from church, Braden Miller, used to play with him in ages past.  I asked Robert about Braden and he said something like, "Yeah, nice kid.  Plays like Chet Atkins."  Braden is in his forties now, BTW.  That's high praise from Robert.  So, I decided to arrange a reunion and home jam session.  I also invited a family from church that lives in our neighborhood.  The father asked, "Do you want me to bring my violin?"  I thought to myself, "Fiddle would be a better word for this crew," but just said, "Sure."

Robert showed up with enough equipment to put on a full show and he did just that.  He's got a great solo act that he plays around the retirement home, no booze restaraunt circuit.  (He's pretty hard core Church of Christ.)

Braden came in with a truly ancient Fender Amp that looked like it had been through the wars and a pristine vintage Gibson jazz box worth a small fortune.  It sounded wonderful.  It wasn't long before Robert and Braden were putting out a mix of Bob Wills, George Strait and Willie Nelson songs that would have been at home in any high class honky tonky in Oklahoma or Texas. 

But, the real wild card was the fiddle player, Jeremiah.  He gave us all some bad moments when he said he played mostly classical and hymns.  He didn't tell us that he is one of those rare musicians that can simply hear a tune and play it ... not only play it but play it well.  Within a couple of minutes he was playing the fills and the fiddle leads on those old western swing tunes like he had been doing it all of his life.  He said that he had never heard a lot of them.  Robert wanted to recruit him for his swing band.

One of Jeremiah's daughters plays uke so she picked up my little Epiphone Hummingbird and played along quietly on several numbers.  It was good to have those teenagers in the house.  They were polite and pleasant and most of them appeared to be having a good time.  I noticed a couple of them singing along with the songs silently and tapping their feet.  

I didn't join in.  I am not in the same league with those guys for one thing but for another it wasn't the right night or the right crowd for my brand of blues which is about all I am any good at.  Blues is like Haiku, the forms are very simple but the thoughts can run as deep as you want to take them.  This wasn't the time or place.

A good time was had by all.

A little later in the month, Sheila accused me of either experiencing a bout of insanity or lapsing into my second childhood.

It started like this.  In the afternoons, I like to take a spin around the neighborhood on one of my mobility scooters.  The problem is their top speed is four miles per hour and it takes forever and sometimes a battery change to get anywhere.  I really wanted something that I could take down to WalMart or over to Reasors on a nice day. A couple of miles round trip. When I saw a good deal on an electric scooter with a 20 mph top speed and a 15 mile range I ordered one.

It was like learning to ride a bicycle all over again.  I took a few spills but nothing serious.  But then I noticed that I couldn't enjoy riding it.  It required all of my concentration to keep upright and headed where I intended to go.  Then it hit me.  A lot of old people suffer from vertigo in varying degrees and I am no exception.  I was fighting vertigo and the scooter learning curve.  After several days of experimental riding while I mastered the controls my balance didn't improve.  I could ride the blasted thing but I couldn't enjoy it.

Finally, common sense prevailed and I agreed that if I took a bad fall it could have serious medical ramifications.  So, I gave Josh, the guy who does our lawn care and home maintenance, a good deal on the scooter.  Sheila and my friends who knew about it heaved a great sigh of relief.  I am told Josh's ten year old daughter is tearing all over their neighborhood on it now.  Oh well, it was fun for a few days even if down deep I was scared spitless part of the time.

And those were the highlights for April.

Branson In The Fall

I am sitting at the desk in the spacious duplex condo time share a friend of a friend allowed us to rent this week.  Our lifelong friends Mike and Jodi Sala traveled up with us and are occupying the other unit.  Our unit is on a mountaintop near Table Rock Lake about 15 minutes south of Branson.  Finding the condo was a trial.  The place is built on very rugged topography accessible only by a maze of near vertical slope two lane roads, confusing intersections and unmarked streets.  It even managed to confuse our GPS.

Today, I am in the unusual position of taking a vacation from our vacation.  I have done this before on cruises.  When you get so tired or are having so much pain that you aren't enjoying yourself a rest is in order.  I reached that point yesterday and declared today a personal rest day.  The rest of the crew headed out over an hour ago for a scenic train ride and in all likelihood a late lunch at Paula Deen's.

To keep myself occupied today while the others are gone, I set up my little jewel of a Japanese portable ham radio on the coffee table attached to an expedient antenna draped over the beams of our patio.  By midday, I had talked to Texas, Tennessee, Georgia, Florida, Illinois, Nevada, California and Alberta, Canada to name a few on only 5 watts of power.  This is called operating QRP (low power).  It takes a lot of skill and patience to make long range contacts using half the input power of an average cell phone charger.  The average ham radio puts out about one hundred watts and it is not unusual to hear guys running over a kilowatt.

So far we have had a great time.  On the way up we stopped at Clanton's Restaurant in Vinita, Oklahoma for lunch. We split one of their giant chicken fried steaks which have consistently been voted the best in Oklahoma.  Sheila even threw caution to the wind and ordered their homemade blackberry cobbler with two scoops of ice cream.  It was delicious.

Tuesday, we had lunch at the main dining room of College of the
Ozarks.  This is not a college cafeteria.  It is a very upscale restaurant run by the college and staffed by the students.  Much of the food comes from the University's own student run farms.  The food was fabulous and the prices were quite reasonable given the quality and service. The whole places was a breath of fresh air.  The student/staff were all friendly, well groomed and seemingly happy in their work.  No bad attitudes here.  And it showed in the food.  Our meals were every bit as good as those from any upscale restaurant and made all the better by the great attitudes on the part of the staff.

After lunch, we attended a student production honoring Viet Nam veterans.  It couldn't be called professional exactly even though the players were very talented and the young lady playing an Army Nurse sang like an angel.  I almost broke up when she sang a verse of "Leavin' On A Jet Plane" acapella. That song has special meaning for the guys of our generation who time and again boarded planes wondering if it was a one way ticket.

But, whatever this production lacked in sophistication it was made up in spades by their willingness to speak the truth about the Viet Nam war and our nations shameful treatment of Viet Nam veterans.  My cynical mind turned critical very quickly when they began telling the stories.  I caught myself thinking, "That scene was taken straight out of "We Were Soldiers Once" and that one was straight out of "China Beach."  And then it hit me that I was forgetting that those story lines were based on real events lived out by real people during the war.  And then it hit me even harder that over fifty years later these big hearted, well meaning kids were taking the time and trouble to tell my generation's story, a story almost completely unheard by their generation.  Lack of sophistication aside, the production was deeply moving.  Many in the audience wept quietly as the stories unfolded.

Wednesday, we had lunch at place that successfully moved from the main street  of Haskell, Oklahoma to the main street of Branson.   Mike and Jodi knew the owners and often ate there when they were in Haskell. They are apparently making good in Branson.  They've won multiple awards for their down home cooking, a couple of buses were parked out back and the wait for a table was over forty five minutes.

Last night we saw "Queen Esther."  I don't really know how to describe it.  I was skeptical about any show being worth sixty bucks a ticket but my skepticism vanished five minutes into the show.  The costumes were stunning, the scenery was breathtaking and the stagecraft/special effects were technically amazing.  The talent is world class.  Amazing talented, professional, legitimate theatrical voices performing powerfully and movingly.  The plot follows the Biblical narrative precisely. I was stunned by it all.  The theater seats over two thousand and every performance is sold out.  Buses from all over the middle of the nation were in the parking lot.  When it was over there was a massive traffic jam.  It took us nearly an hour to get back to the main streets.  I usually don't have much patience with big productions and big crowds.  Queen Esther was worth it.  I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Thursday, Sheila and the crew had a good time on the train despite some out of control children and
then thoroughly enjoyed their late lunch at Paula Deen's.  Paula Deen is the reigning grand dame of Southern Cooking and if the chicken wing and butter cake Sheila slipped into her purse to bring back to me was an example the quality of the food has not suffered in the translation from South Carolina to Southern Missouri.  Sadly, Mike was in a bit of pain by the time they got back and both Mike and Jodi were worn out.  They went straight to bed more or less.  

By Friday morning Mike and I were ready to come home.  We were up early, had a quick breakfast of toast, yogurt and coffee, packed our things and headed out.  By mid-afternoon we were back in Tulsa.  It has been a good trip.  Good food, visiting with old friends and seeing a few new things.  At our age, that is a great adventure.

Memorial Day 2023

Yesterday, Sheila and I made the annual trek to Sallisaw to decorate our family graves. As usual it was a sorrowful day somewhat ameliorated by the pleasure of seeing family and friends and a nice drive through the always beautiful Cookson Hills.

The American Memorial Day holiday began after the civil war as a way to remember our war dead. “Decoration Day,” another local holiday when all family graves were decorated was usually a separate event. But, over the years, they were commonly merged. I try to keep the two remembrances separate in my consideration of the day.

When we began decorating, I noticed that Sheila had chosen an otherwise nice red, white and blue bouquet marred by what I saw as a cheap plastic doo dad saying “Hero.” There were dozens of similar displays all over the cemetery since this one was one of the better displays being sold by Wal Mart this year. However, I couldn’t help but cringe over what dad would have thought of such a display.

Dad was a genuine hero. He had the medals and commendations to prove it. He started his war in Sicily, survived the bitter slog through Italy and the Anzio catastrophe to celebrate VE day deep in Germany. But, like many if not most of his generation, dad was quiet about his heroism. He never discussed it. Once, when I was a child, I found his medals. I asked him about the Bronze Star. In his typical shy, modest manner he just said, “Aw shucks. They gave those things away with Wheaties.” It was many years before I learned that they don’t award the Bronze Star for trivial reasons.

But, dad was a hero in another way as well. Despite suffering from PTSD his entire life, he was a pillar of the community and our church and literally worked himself to death to give Mom and I a better life. Taking nothing away from his war time heroism, this second kind of heroism, the daily surrender of your life, your hopes and your ambitions to care for a family under always difficult and sometimes nearly impossible circumstances is truly awe inspiring.

Dad would not have been happy to see a little white plastic sign over his grave, calling him a “hero.” He was a hero, he knew it, I certainly knew it and that would have been enough for him. In my dad’s generation, real heroes didn’t brag and they certainly didn’t cheapen their sacrifice by letting anyone make merchandise of it.

As we were getting ready to leave, I reached in my pocket and realized I had no coins there. I don't know what I was thinking. I haven’t carried coins in years. So, I asked Sheila to dig around in her purse and find a penny for me. There is a tradition among veterans. When you visit another veterans grave, you leave a coin. A penny simply means that another veteran was there showing his respect. A nickle means that you served in boot camp with them. A dime means that you actually served with them at some point. A quarter means that you were there when they died.

A young army captain is buried near my families graves. He died in Viet Nam on my birthday in 1970 during a truly hairy mission trying to rescue a number of wounded that had been left behind by their retreating unit. The citation for his Silver Star, America’s second highest award for valor, says that he personally pulled two of the wounded back to safety and died with a third in his arms. That kind of selfless courage deserves to be remembered. In years past, I would I would often find other coins on his headstone. This year, there was only mine.

As we were driving home, Sheila remarked sadly, “When we’re gone, nobody will decorate their graves or ours.” She is right. The ungrateful generation after ours at best cares nothing for their heritage and at worst is ashamed of it. And even the fact that we are ashamed of them will mean nothing once we are gone.

 

A Classic Christmas Dinner Whoops

 

Yesterday, we were celebrating an early Christmas since our daughter and her family will be out of town during the actual holiday.  We recently sold them our old home in midtown and they are remodeling it to prepare it for rental.

As we were sitting around the living room distributing presents, my son in law handed me the old Chilton's repair manual for my dearly beloved and sorely missed '68 Z-28.  He said he had found it as they were stripping out the garage.

Smiling he said that he had also found something else with it.  An old love letter from Sheila.  He had not opened it. Looking across the room I could see from the handwriting on the envelope that the letter WAS NOT from Sheila.  Sheila was immediately alert and interested.  She grabbed the letter and put it in her purse.  

We quickly determined that the letter was from a girl I was dating just before Sheila and I were engaged.  Sheila demanded that she be allowed to read the letter.  I strenuously objected.  Eventually, I prevailed and the letter was consigned in pieces to the nearest waste basket.

The moment passed without further incident but the look on my son-in-law's face was priceless.

 

A Working Adventure

Covid has really limited Sheila and I's "adventuring."  Now that we have the time and money to travel this blasted disease is still keeping us prisoners.  We have cancelled two winter cruises and two summer mountain cabin stays plus numerous smaller adventures like nice dinners with our partners in crime Pam and Wayne.  (Pam is recovering from Covid right now BTW and her mother has it as well.)

The closest thing to an "adventure" we have had in quite a while was our short stay in the Ft. Worth area while I took Instructor training for law enforcement level Verbal De-escalation.  We stayed at the Hyatt in Hurst.  It was nearly empty.  The service was superb and and lovely little Tejano lady who cooked the morning breakfast bar was a real gem.  Tejano cooking is something special and this lady was an artist.

Sheila pampered herself as you only can in a high class hotel while I learned how to teach our security students how to talk down violent and crazy people.  She slept in, read a couple of novels and raided the local WalMarts until she located a hard to find locally toy our grandson Ben wanted for Christmas.

The training was conducted by Blue Shield Tactical.  They are the best and most commonly used law enforcement training organization between the Mississippi and the Rockies.  Our instructor was a tough as nails active duty St. Louis cop who also still serves as an Air Commando in the Air Force Reserve.  The class was held at the Hurst police station.  It was the cleanest most modern police station I have ever seen and Hurst PD went out of their way to be good hosts.  

Our class was a truly interesting group.  We had the chiefs of many of the smaller departments from the DFW/North Texas area, the chief training officers of several of the larger departments and agencies and a good mix of patrolmen and detectives from several more.  We also had a lady who identified herself as a consulting psychiatrist from an institution on the east coast.  She projected FED vibes.  She was also staying at the Hyatt.  

The training was intense at times, hilarious at times and overall very practical.  The hardest part for me was conducting a session of the class.  Each instructor candidate was required to set up a short scenario, run it, address the class and then sit through the class critique of your performance.  The very thought of taking the front of the room before all of these senior cops and hard bitten serving officers was daunting.   But, I got through it and my reviews from the audience were encouraging.  The overall opinion was that I was calm and organized.  Somewhere in my office I have the class picture and a diploma.  I even have not just the tee shirt but the golf shirt proclaiming that I am a certified law enforcement level de-escalation instructor.

There was only one hitch for the entire trip.  TRAFFIC.  I-35 was down to one lane through a big chunk of southwest Oklahoma and about the same time it opens up you hit the REAL DFW traffic flow.  75 is messed up at the Red River and we missed our exit for the Indian Nations turnpike on the way back.  Seven hours plus each way.  On the way home we got lost  thanks to our GPS and spent an hour winding our way through the Oklahoma hills trying to cross over to the Indian Nations Turnpike to avoid the nightmarish traffic.

Having said that, Sheila got in an almost week long rest in reasonable luxury and I acquired some very valuable training.  And we both had a good time doing it.