I finally arrived home. I mentioned my “Freedom Flight” in another article. We left Adak on time and stopped briefly on Shimya Island before arriving in Anchorage — only to get stranded for a day because of storms in the States.

The home was not the one I left eighteen months before. My wife moved us from the ‘B’ side of the duplex on Falconer Court to the ‘A’ side. FT Meade was remodeling the duplexes, and it had become time to update ours. I needed a day or so to adjust to the reversed layout of the rooms.

After a brief leave period, I drove to my new assignment at ‘Detachment Potomac.’ The Naval Research Laboratory (NRL) provided the building housing my command’s ‘headquarters’, my new work center, and part of the Classic Wizard Support Group. My drive from our house was between fifty minutes and what seemed forever. The first few times, my drive went quickly, and I felt it wasn’t so bad. My impression would soon change.

Then, Maryland began improving I-295 by putting in gutters with drain openings. It resulted in lane closures, making my drives outside of rush hours much longer. The commute to work remained reasonable since I came to work before the heart of rush hour, but the ride home was a hit or miss depending on when I left work. Unfortunately, the construction went on for several years, but I accepted it as part of the job.

When I arrived at NRL, the staff consisted of a commanding officer, a senior chief, and two petty officers. The officer selected to be our executive officer hadn’t reported yet. I wondered about a staff this size being headed by a Navy captain. Soon I had the answer. Detachment Potomac also included the NSA’s Mission Operations Support Center (MOSC).

My role was as the command’s Electronic Material Officer (EMO.) Instead of managing maintenance workshops, I had a nebulous role in the Classic Wizard program. The role wasn’t defined when I arrived, and I was told to determine it.

The program office at NRL supported the Wizard equipment at the field sites, and I would support it while being separate in the command structure.

Soon, I attended planning briefings, coordinated with field sites for program support, and supported the Maine training site. I did these in addition to spending time learning about the MOSC. Spending time at the MOSC paid off when I managed the creation of the workspace for the Integrated Broadcast Service Support Office (IBSSO) years after retiring from the Navy.

The woman who was Classic Wizard Division Officer in Adak, Alaska, received orders to the Classic Wizard support group (not part of Detachment Potomac.) She was in the communications division. She came to me one day, asking if I would start attending system development meetings at several contractor sites. The program was developing the follow-on system, and she wanted my input. Also, I needed to keep abreast of the plans to prepare sites for the upgrades. My Captain agreed with her proposal, and I had more things on my plate.

I began a hectic travel schedule. Once a month, I would fly out on Monday to Dallas and attend a meeting the next day. After the Tuesday meeting, I would fly to Las Angeles for a Wednesday meeting. Then, I flew to San Francisco for a Thursday meeting. I got to stay over the night and fly home Friday morning—the weekend after these trips was time to rest.

On another week, monthly, I would drive to State College, Pennsylvania, for a meeting. This was an early morning drive up, followed by a meeting, and driving home in the evening.

Besides these, I made several trips to Bangor, Maine, to the Classic Wizard Training Facility. This facility trained the maintenance technicians and I had input regarding this training.

I would drive to Maine instead of flying. I could drive there in about twelve hours, and my travel orders allowed a travel day. Driving was less expensive than flying, so my executive officer allowed me to travel by car. On most trips, I would bring home fresh lobsters for my wife and others, one of the benefits of driving.

I was in Maine evaluating the installation of some antenna systems when I was ordered to return immediately to Detachment Potomac. I arrived home late afternoon, ready to report to the work center the following day.

I went out for something (don’t remember what) about 8 PM. When I got back, my wife told me that the United States and its allies were attacking Iraq. This was the start of Desert Storm, and we watched missiles flying in Baghdad and the subsequent explosions.

My Captain knew the war was about to start and wanted me back quickly to be available since I coordinated support to the field sites. None of us knew how long the war would last or what the sites might need. As it turned out, I had no support issues during Desert Storm.

My role in attending the planning meetings and travel remained consistent.

Now it was fall 1991, and I was up for orders. The conversation with my placement officer/detailer was not going well. Remember that I was short-toured from Ft Meade to Adak with a promise I would be returned to Ft Meade. That didn’t happen. Instead, I was at Detachment Potomac.

The placement officer wanted to send me to Japan for an EMO tour. Should I accept these orders, my wife said she would not go with me. I told the detailer I had been in the Navy for twenty-five years, and a tour to Japan would be my last before retiring. It would be too challenging to plan my transition from there, so NO.

Then, he said the only other option was in the 40 Department at Naval Security Group Command on Nebraska Avenue, Washington, DC. I called the officer I would replace and learned he traveled forty weeks a year. I could expect the same, so NO.

I reminded him that I was promised to return to the NSA after Adak and took Detachment Potomac as a favor to another warrant officer. He could send me to one of the many junior officer’s billets at the NSA. I had filled one before and knew there were many open billets there. He refused to grant my request, continuing to plan for me to go to Nebraska Avenue.

Finally, I took it no longer. In November 1991, I had my administrative assistant prepare my request to retire on March 1, 1992. With the request made, I sent resumes to the companies working on the Classic Wizard project.

As it occurred, I was optimistic the request would be approved. I waited but heard nothing for several days. Finally, I contacted a warrant I knew who worked for the Admiral who had to approve my request. He denied having seen it, so I had it resent by my admin staff. Surprise. A day or two later, my request was approved and sent to my placement officer. Now, I had to become aggressive in seeking a job.

I was concerned when I did not receive a response to the resumes, and it was the second week of December. Remember that we still lived in the quarters on FT Meade and would have to move once I retired. Where I got a job would play into where I would rent or buy.

One day, I was talking with a friend who worked in the communications support group. I mentioned my frustration with not hearing from anyone regarding a job. He asked when I would retire, and I told him.

Later that day, he told me a man he knew wanted to talk to me the next morning about a job. So, John and I met the next day. I listened to his offer, negotiated a salary, and signed on as employee four on the NEWLINK payroll.

A job opened that allowed us to relocate from our place on FT Meade. The children wanted to remain in the same school system, so we bought a house in Hanover, Maryland. Thirty-two years later, it is still home to my wife and me.

My official retirement date is 1 March 1992, but my retirement ceremony was on the last day of January 1992. That is the day I started my next life phase as a NEWLINK employee providing contractual services.

One further thought. Remember, the placement officer gave me only two options for my next assignment. Well, he was at my retirement ceremony and asked me if his actions had anything to do with my decision to retire. I said he made the decision for me by refusing my request.

Thanks to him, I was hired by John, leading to a productive career as a contractor.

We are home. We are Lori, Dwane “DJ,” Tiffany “Tiff,” and me. Our home is 8107B Falconer Court on FT Meade.

Sporting khakis and new collar insignia, and with great anxiety, I report to my work location in Airport Square 11.

The plans for the two computer labs on the first floor proceeded while I was gone. The NSA contractors had almost completed the under-raised floor power installation. While they were finishing the power, raised floor, and air handler installations, I completed the plan for installing the computer systems.

Finally, the day came when the preps were complete, and I moved into my office in the secure computer room. They included an office for the system administrators and me in the room preparations.

A week or two later, a Navy Petty Officer reported as one of my lab assistants. Eventually, I would have a staff that included Navy, Army, and Air Force enlisted operators.

It took months to install the computer systems and the communication fibers from my lab to the researchers on the third floor. Finally, we began the daily operations. The operators performed routine maintenance and supported the network linked to other secure NSA computers.

One day, I received word that someone had penetrated (accessed, broken into) another NSA computer system from one of mine. It was an unauthorized entry, a violation of the law. It took a few days before my staff and I identified who had used my system to break into the other.

My supervisor notified NSA security, and they took the individual into custody. It was one of our researchers. He was released a few days later after confirming he was authorized to perform penetration testing of other NSA secure systems. He had only failed to notify the other systems administration of his plans. Still, my staff and I were given a letter of commendation for our work in finding the intruder.

Most of our work was mundane. We ensured the computers were online and available to the researchers through the ethernet network. We monitored the logs for any unauthorized system access, as happened with the system I previously mentioned.

One of our regular tasks was changing system passwords. We notified the researchers when we changed them. The researchers needed them to access the computers in support of their work. They were developing procedures and ways to keep computers secure.

Often, after changing passwords, we would notice in the logs that a researcher had logged into their account on a system, though we had not given them the new password. In other words, Some of them were proficient at successfully penetrating computer systems. We wouldn’t call security when noting such a thing because this was one of their authorized tasks, leading to improving computer security.

I also helped design the unclassified computer laboratory. It contained a computer system that supported dial-in connections. It allowed authorized persons to call one of several telephone numbers and access the computer using a username and password. Remember, this was when the modem speeds were 300 bits-per-second (baud), not megabits-per-second. several

I enrolled in a C computer language course requiring me to write a program outside my daily duties. I had the Atari computer I bought before going to Panama. After researching, I located a communication (comms) program to interface my computer with a modem NSA loaned me. The program translated the letters I typed into a code to be sent by the modem through phone lines to the receiving modem and computer.

I would start my computer and start the comms program. It initiated the phone call and negotiated a link with a comms program on the unclassified NSA computer. Then, I logged in with my username and password. Still, I hadn’t reached the resources needed to write the program.

The internet was yet to be a reality. However, the government created a network called ARPAnet. The acronym comes from “Advanced Research Projects Agency Network.” ARPAnet linked government facilities and multiple universities. It was the predecessor to the INTERNET.

After connecting to NSA’s computer, I used ARPAnet to connect to a computer at MIT-Massachusetts Institute of Technology. The MIT computer had the resources to create and test the program I developed.

During the last days of the course, I used a punchcard machine to create a deck of punch cards with my code. Then, I ran the cards through a reader to load my program onto an NSA computer. My program stored names, addresses, and phone numbers alphabetically. The program inserted new entries in their proper place. My program performed as designed. I had passed the course and got to keep the modem until the end of my tour at NSA.

The National Computer Security Center (NSA C3 group) was fully functional, and both labs were functioning. It was time to show off the organization with an open house.

I don’t know what went into organizing it, but my part was to showcase my lab. Someone else would host the unclassified laboratory capabilities. So, my staff pulled a field day, cleaned, dusted, etc., and got the room and system in pristine condition.

I gave tours of the computer room when the day came. I identified each computer system and told how researchers used them for an Undersecretary of Defense, several company CEOs, and other dignitaries.

The after-event was disappointing. Shortly after, the C3 director held an awards ceremony to give out those for the open house. Several government people received a monetary (cash) award. Those in the military received a letter of appreciation because we couldn’t accept money. It was the law I heard. I need not say my staff and I were frustrated and a bit angry. It was stupid, in our opinion.

My son, DJ, joined the Boy Scouts. One weekend, we went to an overnight campout at FT Meade. I chatted with other fathers as we sat around the campfire. I didn’t know how this campout would affect my life at the time.

I neared two years in C3 as a Chief Warrant Officer. I needed to complete three years as a W2 to satisfy the obligation for taking a commission. I could submit a request to retire on 1 August 1987, a year before my three-year obligation ended.

I had spoken with my manager at C3 about a position as a civilian after I retired in a year. He said I likely could fill the same role I had as the classified lab manager. I became excited about the prospect and began considering what changes it would bring.

We would have to relocate from the quarters on Falconer Court to an off-base house. Our children might have to go to different schools, depending on the location of our new home.

Then, life turned upside down, and my plans were disrupted on 17 July. The command received word that the Navy was short-touring me to Adak, Alaska. My tour at FT Meade should have been three years, but I would transfer after two. It was fourteen days before I could submit retirement papers. I had two choices: refuse the orders or go to Adak. I elected Adak.

Lori and I decided that I would do an unaccompanied tour to Adak. She and the children would stay in quarters on FT Meade until I returned. It would be less disruptive for the family since my assignment officer promised I would return to the NSA after Adak. Not all promises are kept.

I learned the command on Adak needed an Electronics Maintenance Officer to replace the departing officer in October. I popped to the top of the replacement list because the Executive Officer at Naval Security Group Activity, Adak, Alaska, knew me from a Boy Scout campout. He had specifically requested me for the assignment.

October came. I boarded the flight, which led to my new command after hugs, kisses, and tears.

Lori and I arrived In Pensacola with the children so I could attend the Limited Duty Officer/Chief Warrant Officer (LDO/CWO) Academy. She and the children stayed with friends and family while I lived in the barracks assigned to course attendees. Later, they went to Corpus Christi to stay with her mother until I finished the course.

I admit to some pride in my new position and uniform, though some trepidation also. I was now an officer in the United States Navy and a leader of men.

It’s funny how my perspective changed with the uniform. For nearly nineteen years, eight as a Chief Petty Officer, I had led and molded my subordinates, yet rarely thought of it that way. How naïve I felt.

Through those years, I spouted the Chief as the backbone of the Navy. I believed it then and still did, yet I was now a Chief Warrant Officer. A former backbone of the Navy just moved higher on the technical leadership ladder.

A Navy warrant officer comes from a rating where they have reached the E-7 or higher level. The warrant has mastered his specialty and demonstrated leadership skills sufficient to be a Chief Petty Officer. Now, the Chief Petty Officer faces the LDO/CWO selection board.

The candidate seeking the commission applies to the LDO/Chief Warrant Officer board. The application follows a template that details a picture of the candidate’s Naval service. There are pictures in uniform and a history of duty assignments, education, and off-duty activities. The candidate can include a letter giving his reason for seeking the commission. The candidate provides the package to his chain of command, and their local commander can endorse it.

The selection board reviews the packages and forwards a qualified list of selectees to the Secretary of the Navy. The list moves through a process resulting in the selectee receiving a presidential commission.

The selection board suggests an order to commission the selectees as part of the process. I was in the last group commissioned by the 1984 board. Regardless, here I was in Pensacola and a Chief Warrant Officer 2.

Break: I was now a Mustang. A Mustang officer is not a temporary or brevet promotion but is a commissioned officer that receives more pay according to their rank of O1-E, O2-E, etc., but (has) command responsibilities as all other commissioned officers. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mustang_(military_officer))

The Limited Duty Officer/Chief Warrant Officer (LDO/CWO) Academy is commonly called Knife and Fork School. Though social/military etiquette elements exist, they cram much more into four weeks.

I remember a module on the history of warrant and LDO programs. Then, one required each of us to give a short talk evaluated by the others. We marched and learned to direct a marching group. There was physical training, and one had to pass the PT test before graduating. We learned sword etiquette, though warrant officers were not required to buy one. And speaking of etiquette, we learned how to prepare a table for a wardroom dinner and set the seating arrangement. It was the knife and fork part of the course.

Lori and the children were with her mother in Corpus Christi while I learned the nuances of being a warrant officer. My school moved along quite well until Hurricane Elena interrupted it. My memory of that event was staying in the barrack stairwell while the storm raged. The next day, I learned that the storm had produced tornadoes that damaged several hangers. Fortunately, the barracks and school buildings were undamaged.

Finally, the day came to leave for my next duty station. I was to return to FT Meade after picking up Lori, DJ, and Tiffany en route to our place on Falconer Court, FT Meade, MD.

We returned to the home where we lived the last months of my enlisted career and would occupy to start my life as a commissioned officer.

August 1972, and I checked in at the Naval Air Station, Corpus Christi, Texas, Quarterdeck.

I would attend Del Mar College for an Associate Degree at the Navy’s expense, completing four semesters and a summer session of classes. My only military duties were attending classes and maintaining passing grades. I could attend courses in civilian clothes and live off the base. My thoughts were I could get used to this.

I met with a counselor and selected the electronics technical degree as my objective. We work out a schedule, and I collect the materials for the fall semester’s courses.

Each of my technical courses has an associated laboratory session. Theory is taught in morning lectures, and practicals are taught in an afternoon lab.

One of my first courses was an introductory Alternating Current/Direct Current course taught by Professor Halloway. He passed out a syllabus on the first day of class and dismissed the class after telling us he would test on the first day’s material when we next met. Testing on the material before he reviewed it during class was challenging for the recent high school graduates familiar with being taught before testing. We, the sailors in the class, understood how to self-study and secretly enjoyed their chagrin.

The schedule allowed me free evenings, with coursework completed. So, I began spending time at Gulf Bowl, having enjoyed bowling while in Hawaii. Soon, I was asked to substitute for missing bowlers in the evening leagues. Spending most of my free time at the bowling alley, I applied and was hired to work the customer service counter.

I attended classes and worked the lanes through the 1972 fall and 1973 spring semesters. The summer sessions began, and my routine remained constant. Attend class, work at the lanes, and bowl often.

In late June or early July. I was working when two attractive young ladies approached the counter and signed up for the Saturday Gold Stamps lights-out event. I learned their names were Lori and Margaret when they registered. Later in the evening, I chatted with Lori, and she agreed to a date. That date started a whirlwind romance. By September, we were engaged and married in January. January 2024 marks our fiftieth anniversary.

Marriage hardly changed my schedule. I attended classes and worked at the bowling alley. Lori worked at Del Rey Dance Studio during the day and joined me at the lanes while I worked or bowled.

There were two Chief Petty Officers in my classes. Before long, we became good friends, and they invited me to the chief’s club for a beer or two several times. They allowed me to call them by their first names when in civies and “Chief” when in uniform. My classmate CPO Steve Bell was the best man at our wedding.

Though I had spent many afternoons visiting with my father-in-law, it seemed he hadn’t realized I was in the Navy. Lori told me after our wedding that he had told her, “You didn’t tell me he was in the Navy,” as he walked her down the aisle. At another point, he told her I wasn’t taking her away from Corpus Christi. Fortunately, he was wrong.

There weren’t many excess funds as a Petty Officer Second Class, so entertainment was visiting with family, league bowling, and watching favorite television programs. Things are much better now. We often reminisce and laugh at the memory of how often we dined on macaroni and cheese and fish sticks in those days. Mac and cheese is still a favorite side dish.

I received orders to Naval Security Group Activity, Iceland, midway through the 1974 spring semester. I would transfer in June, leaving my bride until I found housing at the command. It was not something we looked forward to, but we soon accepted this might not be the last time the Navy would cause us to be apart. It wasn’t.

I left for Iceland from my parent’s home. I don’t remember who was with Lori and my Mom when I caught the bus for NYC. Mom followed the bus for a distance, wanting my attention but I had settled in my seat and drifted quickly off to sleep. I have no problem sleeping on any form of transportation I am not driving.

I have great memories of attending Del Mar College and my time in Corpus Christi.

The status is I have two completed drafts. Completed does not mean ready for publishing, but I finished the storyline. Story titles and cast names are subject to change.

I wrote Saving Delisanna first.

The story takes place in an earthlike world in a time of wizards and swords. Delisanna is a goddess of the second pantheon of Jihalla.

Delisanna is trapped on Siden by a device that can eventually kill her. The protagonists are a human female mage and a male monk who must find and release her before Delisanna dies. The antagonist is a god from Jihalla.

The draft is almost two hundred thousand words. So, I may make it into two manuscripts.

The second story is Kiliane’s Rage. It is the story of the first pantheon to rule Jihalla.

Siden is the domain of the pantheon, given to them populated with plants and animals. Kiliane and her mate became the creators of humans.

The survival of the mortal and divine realms may not be what Kiliane’s fighting for so much as what she may die for.

I am posting Kiliane’s Rage to Wattpad. Follow here as I upload new chapters. https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/340684638-kiliane%27s-rage.

I encourage suggestions for improving the story. General comments also are appreciated.

I was on an airplane, leaving my family home for the Naval Communications Training Center, Corry Station, Pensacola, Florida, to start a new chapter in my life.

My orders were to the CP-771/UYK-3 school, whatever that was. I knew the prefix marked it as a computer, but no one could or would tell me what kind.

I committed to change from Electronics Technician to Communications Technician in ETA school for these orders.

When I arrived at my new base, I learned I couldn’t start school because my security clearance investigation wasn’t complete. So, they assigned me to a shop where I used the skills learned in A school to repair equipment.

An aside here. While on leave, I repaired a television for my parents. It required a bit of minor troubleshooting and replacing a vacuum tube. The training paid off.

I received my clearance and started school in January 1968. It wasn’t long before I wondered why a high-level security clearance was necessary to attend this school. After all, the manuals and training materials were all unclassified.

I decided it wasn’t necessary for the school, but they shouldn’t train someone who couldn’t receive follow-on assignments. So, it made sense to wait for a completed clearance.

In class, I learned how to use “and” and “or” gates to form logic cards, use logic cards to form a register, write and use test programs, and naturally—troubleshoot.

Classes were on weekdays, and I usually had weekends free unless one was a duty day. So they never interfered with school.

Some friends from ETA school also received orders to Pensacola but to a different school. One had a car, and several of us would go partying together. We drove just into Mississippi a few times to drink since some of us were underage in Florida. But, of course, I was a sensible drinker and never got drunk (wink-wink.)

I had a roommate, Ken, who was also 20. Ken learned there was a bus to Biloxi where we could barhop to closing time and catch an early morning bus back. So, on several Fridays, we sometimes did as described.

Biloxi was home to an Air Force technical school. I met several airmen from the school in some of the bars. They liked to brag about what they were learning about equipment repair. So Ken and I secretly laughed, behind their backs, when they talked about learning to repair by replacing defective boards. We were learning to fix broken computers by changing components on failed boards. We were more than board changers.

Drinking was not the only entertainment on base for students. The command had several hobby shops, but my favorite was the one with a racetrack for 1/16^th-size cars. I built a Maserati model that screamed around the track and spent many hours racing all comers.

I would be remiss, not to mention I remember Pensacola as a welcoming community to the students at Corry Station. Initially, I had to remain on base for the first weeks of school, but I enjoyed what the city offered once freed to tour the city.

The day finally came. I submitted my “dream” sheet shortly before the end of the course. I listed three localities where I preferred assignments. In those days, the highest non-rated student was guaranteed an assignment to one of their choices. I was that person.

My dream sheet listed Washington State, Norfolk, and San Diego. But, as it turned out, I received orders to Naval Radio Stations (R) Northwest, Virginia. The barracks, my home, was in Virginia, but I worked in a building located in North Carolina. More about it in another post.

Graduation day came, and I was on an airplane, ready to start another chapter.

I suspect there are many things I didn’t tell my parents or tried to hide at the time.

The stairs

Until I left after graduation, the house I lived in had a basement and attic (we called it upstairs.) There were wooden stairs to the attic on rollers, and we entered the basement by pushing the stairs back. Unfortunately, the stairs stood almost vertical when back.

Probably, I hid that my younger brother and I often climbed to the attic on the pushed-back stairs. It was our bedroom, and we often wanted something from it. If the stairs were back, we left them and climbed. I doubt if we ever thought we would fall, and we never did. I don’t think my parents knew we did this.

I planned to hide something from my Mother while visiting my father in Great Lakes, Illinois. He was stationed there for a time while in the US Navy.

My Uncle James lived with us and worked the eve shift at Caterpillar. His part will become clear shortly.

Date gone awry

I had recently gotten my driver’s license, and Mom had left her car keys. So my friend Greg and I came up with this plan. We were in Junior Achievement together with a pair of sisters. We wanted to go roller-skating with them, and I offered to drive.

I stopped for Greg before picking up the sisters at their home. We spent a lovely evening together at the rink before I had to take them home. I needed to have the car back before my uncle got home from his shift.

All was good so far. Greg and the girls were home. It was now that I got the shock of my young life. I was leaving Peoria when the car stopped. I realized the car was out of gas as I coasted to a stop on the side of the road. You might imagine how stupid I felt at the time.

@#@#@#, what do I do now? My first effort was to walk back into Peoria and search for a gas station. Keep in mind—it was before cell phones. I spent some time before accepting I had no option but to call my Uncle James.

By now, it was after midnight, and he was asleep. I woke him and explained what had happened and where the car was. His voice told me how unhappy he was.

The rest of the story is he woke my Uncle Donald, and they came to the rescue with a gas can. Uncle James drove me and the car home. I hoped this would be the end of it, but he felt the need to let my Mother know. It was the last time my Mother left the keys when she visited Dad.

As I started, I am sure there are other things I hid, but none come to mind at the moment.

Do you have anything you hid from your parents?

Yes, I was a member and later an officer in the chess club.

First Exposure

My neighbor introduced me to chess while I was in elementary school. Mrs. Barber enjoyed the game, but she couldn’t find anyone willing to play in our rural area. I don’t remember how the subject came up, but I agreed to be her opponent. She taught me the moves, and I struggled to win a game. I hated losing, and it became an obsession to win a game from her.

The paper had a chess column I read religiously. It provided the moves for a game between grandmasters with analysis. The more I studied the game, the clearer it became, and soon I won my first game from my teacher.

High School

I joined the Spaulding Institute, my high school, Chess Club my freshman year. The high school was in Peoria, and I lived some nine miles away but over a thirty-minute drive. The club met after school, which meant I had to take the Greyhound bus home. Greyhound was the only option as my mother worked and my father was away in the Navy.

One afternoon, after the club finished, I passed a bookstore on my way to the bus station. I entered the store and perused the store’s selection of chess books. Finally, I found one that interested me. I don’t remember if it was on chess openings or tactics, but I ponied up the money for it. This was the first of many chess books I bought from that store and other places over the years.

My devotion to the game proved stronger than others in the club. It wasn’t long before I had the top board in the matches played against local high schools. I want to say I usually won, but you don’t expect me to remember that level of detail from nearly sixty years ago!

USCF

I was a sophomore when I met another chess enthusiast, one with a car. I wish I remembered his name, but can’t. Anyway, he told me about a chess club that met every week at the YMCA. He also introduced me to the United States Chess Federation (USCF).

One day I competed in a USCF tournament held at the Y. The USCF ranked players based on who they played and their opponent’s ranking. I played five games and received a national chess ranking that placed me in the C Class. I moved into Class B after several more ranked games and tournaments.

I progressed to the Class A group by the time I graduated high school. I earned that status with my best performance up to that time,  a 2.5 out of 5 points in a tournament in Indianapolis, Indiana. I lost the first game against a Master Class player. Then, I won the second game. I drew the next three games against higher-ranked players, including the last one against a Senior Master.

After High School

I competed in rated tournaments for several years after joining the Navy, including playing chess by mail. Though I remained a Class A player over the board, I reached Master status in correspondence chess. I enjoyed competing against players from around the world until 1979 when some began using chess-playing computers in preparing their moves.

Such is the story of my participation in an organization for “nerds” in high school and how it led to an enjoyable pastime for many years after leaving school.

What did you do in high school? Share, using the comment form.

It was inadequate to gain the day recognized as a national holiday. Although they declared Mother’s Day a national holiday in 1914, Father’s Day languished as a celebration. After multiple attempts over the years to have it declared a holiday, President Richard Nixon signed the law making it a national holiday in 1972.

Father’s Day with a Dad in the Navy (See more here)

I don’t remember many years I celebrated his day with my father. He made the U. S. Navy a career and spent most of the year gone. I never learned why the decision to locate us in Illinois while he did his tours of duty at sea and shore far from us. It was always a treat when he took leave, sometimes 30 days in a year, at home. When he deployed, he sent many letters and gifts from exotic places such as Thailand, Japan, Singapore, and others I can’t remember. We sent him letters and cards to let him know how much we missed him. We signed every letter with love. (You can read more about my father during my early years here.)

My Father Francis Leo Knott

Dad at Great Lakes

In the early 1960s, Dad transferred to Great Lake Illinois just a three to three and half hour drive away. He came home the standard 30 days a year plus at least a weekend every month. His presence often gave me contradictory feelings. As the oldest, I was the man of the house except for those 30 days. Dad relieved me of that responsibility year-round since he came home often enough to influence events throughout the year. Thinking back, I probably resented the demotion. His tour at Great Lakes lasted three years before he received orders to the USS Kearsarge (CV33).

1966 – 2002

I joined the Navy in 1966. Either join the Navy or let the Army draft me. I spent boot camp in San Diego, California. I spent a few days with my father while I was there. One day, he took me to see his ship, the aircraft carrier, the USS Kearsarge. He gave me a tour of the ship. I transferred to a school on Treasure Island a few weeks later, and he went to Great Lakes for his last assignment before retiring.

He and I were rarely home together even after he retired in 1970. After finishing the Navy schools, it was I who had only 30 days leave a year to spend at home, though my duty assignments overseas often prevented spending those days with my parents.

Things changed after I retired in 1992. My wife and I and two children settled in Maryland. A long drive enabled us to spend many holidays. These short visits brought my father and me closer together than any of the longer 30-day leaves ever did. I lost him on Thanksgiving Day, November 28, 2002.

My Father-in-Law

I met my Father-in-Law in 1973. My wife and I had dated a few times before she introduced us. To say he intimidated me is an understatement. I was 160 pounds on a spindly 6-foot frame. He was an imposing man, big framed, confident, and well versed with firearms. The later I learned when he talked of the shooting events he had won.

He exuded confidence while I shivered in his presence the first few times we spoke. I remember the first time he called me a “Damned Yankee” shook my timbers. He claimed I was the reason the Cowboys lost a Super Bowl to the Steelers. I think he meant the Baltimore Colts. Other times he acted angry, perhaps because I, from Illinois, and a sailor dated his daughter. In time, it became an inside joke we shared until he passed in 2007. In time, I became comfortable in his presence and enjoyed our conversations.

Father’s Day today

My Father and my Father-in-Law were men I spent far less time with than I now wish I had. They left indelible imprints on my life. Men of integrity who honored their commitment to family and country. They created this holiday to honor men such as my father and my father-in-law.

To the millions of fathers, may you have a wonderful and memorable Father’s Day!

Let us not forget women who are, both, mother and father to those in their lives.

Do you have a favorite memory of your father? Tell me using the comments form.

Some people are fair-weather fans, changing based on which teams have good seasons. I am not one of them.

Transistor Radio

I received a radio for my ninth or tenth birthday. The radio was a six-transistor, small rectangular device that fit perfectly under my pillow.

My two brothers and I shared an attic bedroom in the Beverly Manor house. Unfortunately, it was only large enough for two twin beds and a narrow walkway between them. So it required two of us to share a bed. Since Paul and I were skinny fellows, and my brother Cletus wasn’t, Paul and I shared a bed.

Sharing a bed with Paul, my junior by over five years, meant that bedtime for Paul was Cletus and mine. I accepted this until I neared teenage. So, the rule changed to I could get back up once Paul was asleep if I desired. Many nights I remained in bed long after they settled, with my little radio tuned to a ballgame or a local music station.

Baseball

My location in mid-state Illinois allowed me to tune to stations from Chicago and St. Louis, Missouri. I listened to the Cubs and Cardinals but was almost religious listening to their games when they played the Dodgers. I don’t remember ever not being a Dodgers fan, first the Brooklyn Dodgers and later Los Angeles Dodgers.

I would turn on the radio and set the volume loud enough to come to my ear against the pillow. My siblings never knew I was listening to my radio. It remained my secret until the radio broke one day.

There is a song speaking of my times then. I “watched” Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, and Johnny Podres pitching great games against the Cubs or Cardinals through my radio. Then there was Maury Wills as leadoff hitter bunting to get on base and often stealing second and sometimes third base. I don’t remember the year, but he set a record for most steals up to then.

Other Sports

My favorite football team has been the Miami Dolphins since the early 1970’s. I may have grown up in Illinois, but none of their teams have been my favorite. Basketball favorite has been the Boston Celtics since Larry Bird played. I can’t name any other professional sports team I consider a favorite.

The Brooklyn/Los Angeles Dodgers is the longest-running favorite professional team, followed by Miami Dolphins, and lastly, the Boston Celtics.  But, I have given up following any team for personal reasons.

Would you like to share your favorite teams from your childhood? Please do, on the comment form.