The one thing I did keep from Ken's LSO gear was the glo-stripes that went down the legs of his "carrier waving" suit.  I'm sure that suit had a name, but I've forgotten it.  It might have been an adapted flight suit with snaps down the legs for the glo-strips.  What in the world did I think I was going to do with glo-strips??  Now, they are draped over a picture of an LSO in the "museum."

I finally gave Ken's his uniforms to a young lad that trades in military gear.  He was trying to set up a booth in Edmond's Antique Store.  He needed a jump start.  There comes a point that you can't keep it all.  I certainly wasn't going to wear a uniform.

Scott sent me a picture of an LSO on a carrier who was waving a plane aboard and had given the pilot a "cut."  He asked if the LSO was his dad.  I told him "No."  It was a rear view of the LSO's back--arms in the air, signaling the pilot.  I told Scott that I would know that butt anywhere and it wasn't Ken.  (I was married to the guy 57 years--so I would know.)

The Marines only had three LSO's back in the early fifties.  He was one.  Another one was "Mad Dog Oster," who got so mad a a group of pilots who wouldn't obey his signals that the threw his paddles overboard and left the planes in the air to fend for themselves.

It was pretty much impossible to land on the pitching, rolling deck of a carrier without an LSO.  The pilots who were left in the air--running out of fuel--were begging Mad Dog to help them aboard and promised to obey signals.  But he had no paddles.  So, he got a couple of pairs of skivies--one pair in each hand--waved the signals best he could and helped them hook wire and get aboard.  Innovation.  I loved to listen to the LSO's stories.  I've got a bunch of them.