The fourth of July.  Our forces are all volunteer.  You have to join to be in the military.  We haven’t had a draft since the 1960’s.  Almost 65 years. 

Ken always said that every young person should have to serve their country a year--preferably  in a third world country.  To get an idea of how blessed they are to be American.

They could do all sorts of things--it wouldn’t have to be to fight or bear arms.  Just live somewhere else where the conditions are not perfect.  And learn how blessed they are to be American.

Ken joined.  As an enlisted person.  Korea broke out and the Navy and Marines didn’t have pilots because WWII was supposed to end all of that and we hadn’t trained them.  A few enlisted who could pass the equivalency test of college got to go to flight school. Ken passed it. He didn’t get a college degree until he retired and went on the GI bill and also got his Masters.

God bless those who serve their country.  I don’t know if I would be brave enough to do it.

Joe Mike and Becky Bacon came and spent the weekend.  The worst part of that is that you have a wonderful time--and then they leave.  And it makes me so lonesome.  Joe bought all three of us reserved seats to the Blue Angels...of course I couldn’t get from the car to the seats--too far to walk and too hot.  They went and didn’t stay because of the heat.  Joe just wants to talk to the pilots (B-52s) anyway.

When I married Ken we lived in Pensacola and I watched the Blues every day practice over my house.  Chuck Hiett (Hayet?) was the first Marine to fly with them, Ken was the second to be asked to fly the solo position.  He turned them down (!) because he was just back from Korea and didn’t want to live out of a suitcase.   He was teaching cadets to hook wire on the carrier and told Zeke (who was head of the Blues) that he felt like he was more useful to the Marine Corps teaching critical tactics on the carrier.  Then, told him to call his best friend Pete Olson, that he had flown with in Korea--who was stuck in DC as an aide (and not getting to fly).  Pete took the solo spot, and was killed. Spun an F-9 into the ground off shore at Corpus Christi.  There was no record of it because the Blues had stood down in the war and were just getting going again.  When I wrote about him in my book “The Corsair” I couldn’t find any info.  I called Scott--who jumped in and got Pete’s info into the Blues history.  He even found a picture of the headstone in Oregon, covered with weeds.  That’s rectified.  If you want something to do with Marines--call Scott.  He’ll get it done. 

 I can’t seem to get my self back on schedule.  Sleeping on a strange pillow is hard.  Nothing like your own bed and your own pillow.  I haven’t even got all of the crossword puzzles done yet. And can’t seem to get anything else done until I have finished the puzzles.

Regimen.  It keeps me in line.  But Jeanette brought me some lemon curd...so I eat a bite every little bit to keep me going.

“The Macau Mavrick” about my brother will be out in the fall.  And then on to the next book: “The Corsair Pilot.” which is about Ken. And as soon as that one is out, then “The Jersey Cow,” about my grandmother. I’m on a roll.  As long as I have characters, I can make a story.  But I’m running out of characters.  I tried to start one about my dad, but he was such a quiet man...there’s always my mom.  She was a character.  It all gets me up in the morning!!!

I still can’t talk, I have a frog.   I said so many words at the book-signing event on Saturday, I ran out of steam.  And those of you who know me well--that’s hard for me to do.

It was an humbling experience to say the least.  I have no idea  how many people, but at times they were backed up to the door--and I was at the back of the building.  Then when it was over, Chris---the owner of the bookstore, brought a huge stack of books that were pre paid and ordered for me to sign--and I thought I was through, and then he brought a case of books to sign for those who couldn’t make it.

My right arm is numb.  But what an  exciting event.  I got to see almost every one I knew--even Sally from Mississippi and her two girls.  To all of you--you really made my day. Let’s do it again in the fall when “The Macau Mavrick” comes out.

My friend Suzanne (Rucker) is coming up from Lubbock Texas today.  It’s a long drive.  She will stay all night and tomorrow we will drive the rest of the way to Pryor together.  We did that two years ago. She told all the people on her list (the to-call-list to remind them that we eat together on Friday before the reunion on Saturday) and told them that if she can get to Pryor from Lubbock that surely they could make the effort to come.  

The two of us have done this for years because we like to see the people we went to high school with.  But for some of them, it doesn’t seem to mean as much.  Some of them I don’t even remember if I had a class with them.  But the thing is, all of us lived through the 40’s and remember the same things.  The town, the food and gas stamps, the shortages of everything, the war in Europe, the people who were our teachers.  The ones we liked, the ones we didn’t.  The high school building that burned down.  All of those things are gone now--and unless you are in your 80’s you would have no idea what that felt like.

Memories are strange things. Some of us like them. Some of us don’t.

Becky Bacon said that she bought three books on Tuesday, someone else was there and bought four and another person  came in and bought more before she even got checked out.  I hope the book store ordered enough for everyone who wants one can get one.  People seem to be buying them for birthday gifts, etc.  I hope they don’t run out. 

But whoever was running the store said they only ordered 48.  They assured me there would be one hundred.  I don’t think I have it in my physically to drive to Pryor twice!! to sign books.  But if that happens, I’ll try.  The publisher said they would be available on the general market like Amazon in the fall.  Seems like the publisher wants to give my home town first go at it.

This is strange for me.  To write a book, have it published, and have people want to read it.  Flattering to be sure, but strange.  I am having to readjust to all of this.