VonoTemp

In Loving Memory Recently, my mother-in-law passed away at the age of 88. She had taken care of her funeral planning and most related expenses before she left us. It is clear what her intentions were and she declared an executor for her estate. Thank you Joan! With all this pre-planning, one of the few things that needed to be accomplished was her obituary. Unfortunately, based on the schedule of the newspapers and funeral home, it needed to be accomplished within the space of about 10 minutes. As with all things “Williamson”, the family rallied and produced all the facts in record speed, depositing them on my desk as I launched the word processor. Creating this data in record time was no little feat as she had 12 children, 29 grandchildren, and 22 great-grandchildren. Leaving anyone out at this point might be forgiven, but never, never forgotten.  Like a 1930’s movie press reporter, I banged out the story of Joan’s life just in time, as the funeral home and relatives shouted words...

Album cover from http://www.musicstack.com/album/dwight+yoakam/streets+of+bakersfield My LinkedIn profile ( Charles Vono ) includes these lines:  “Growing up in the fertile Southern San Joaquin Valley of California, he was no stranger to hard work and hustle. From janitorial work in his home town of Wasco, to farm labor in the fields nearby, or walking the streets of Bakersfield selling door-to-door, Charlie could find work and do it well.”  This, of course, is a reference to the famous “Streets of Bakersfield” released by Homer Joy in 1973. This country tune included the refrain: Hey, you don't know me, but you don't like me You say you care less how I feel But how many of you that sit and judge me Ever walked the streets of Bakersfield? It was 1971, just before I entered the USAF, two years before Homer Joy released “Streets of Bakersfield” and 17 years before “Streets” was a hit song for Dwight Yokum, when I was walking the streets of Bakersfield selling door-to-door. ...

Image from http://security.blogs.cnn.com/2012/05/15/thousands-amass-in-jordan-for-major-military-exercise/ Each year millions of eager young people graduate from the halls of collegiate academia and race to the desks that will be their lot in life for decades. Some few lucky ones escape the desk and find themselves in jobs pacing factory floors ensuring on-time quality production, or donning a white coat and experimenting in labs, or even tending to sick people or animals and at times cutting them open and patching them up. But the really lucky bastards get to fly jet aircraft. I say “bastards” of course, from the third dictionary definition meaning “male”.  Much of my young personal history took place in the late 1970’s. In that time, I had attended the Air Force Academy from 1972 to 1976, graduated, was commissioned a second lieutenant in the United States Air Force and moved on to USAF Undergraduate Pilot Training.  That is, Jet pilot training. JET. PILOT. TRAINING....

Map image found on https://www.etsy.com/listing/206302905/spectacular-1960s-school-maps-nystrom?ref=market It gets hot in Wasco, California in the summertime. And that heat carries over into Autumn. But eventually, the Earth turns its northern half away from the sun and the good Sisters of Saint Francis make sure the hopper windows along the bottom of the north wall of windows are opened. And the cool air can circulate around the classroom of 35 little grade schoolers, all facing east and listening attentively to the world geography lesson.  Geography was an important subject to Roman Catholics whose great commission encompasses all of history and the entire world, but actually only 34 were listening. I was enjoying the cool breeze and staring at the world map on the wall and thinking hard, very hard. This was the late 1950’s and we had our share of drills to ensure survival under enemy attack which would come at us over the North Pole. Sisters with first hand knowledge had told us...