Memorial Day, 2019...

Midshipman Richard W. Vaughn - 1967

On this Memorial Day, my thoughts are of all the young people I served with who made the ultimate sacrifice for our great country. One was a young man named Richard Vaughn, whom I taught at the University of Oklahoma in 1965 and 1966. He was from San Luis Obispo, California. He had received a NROTC scholarship, elected to attend OU, and rose to the position of Midshipman Battalion Commander, the top position a Midshipman can attain within the organization.  Richard had selected the Marine Corps option at the end of his sophomore year and had subsequently trained for a Marine Corps commission under the able teaching of Marine Lt. Col. Tullis Woodham and Gunnery Sergeant William Bingaman. 2nd Lieutenant Vaughn was the epitome of a young marine officer -- handsome, physically fit, and exuding the "command presence" that we tried to develop in all our young officer candidates. When he was commissioned in June of 1967, he looked like a recruiting poster for the Marine Corps -- fit, energetic, proud in his brand new dress blues.   

After completing his Officer's Basic School at Quantico, on October 11, he proceeded to the 1st Battalion, Ninth Marines and his tour of duty as an infantry officer in Viet Nam. On December 6, less than two months into his tour, a Viet Cong rocket or mortar ended his life. He was buried with full military honors in the Golden Gate National Cemetery in San Bruno, California, surrounded by other heroes. Richard's death epitomizes the the huge loss that the country suffers when our best and brightest are taken at a young age. He clearly was destined to do great things had he lived. The year after Richard's death, his mother established a memorial award to be perpetuated at OU. Each year, the outstanding Marine Officer Candidate would be presented with his or her highly prized Mameluke Sword in Lt. Vaughn's memory.   

Let's never forget to honor his memory, and that of so many others who gave us all their most precious gift.

The Mighty "Big Boy" Rolls Again Under Steam Power!

Almost exactly five years ago, I published a post entitled "An Important Event for Railroad Fans..."  In it, I described a gigantic locomotive, the Union Pacific "Big Boy" that was manufactured in the 1940's by the American Locomotive Company (ALCO) in my home town.  In fact, I just measured it on Google Maps and my home was just 1.2 miles from the birthplace of these giant machines.

ALCO built a total of 25 of the so-called 4000-series locomotives (numbered from 4000 through 4024).  They last saw service in July, 1959.  But the current Union Pacific management has a sense of history.  They have a "Legacy Operations" organization that collects and restores rolling stock and locomotives that defined the railroad.  This is the group that undertook the massive job of restoring engine 4014 during the last five years.  They had hauled it from Pomona, California to Cheyenne, Wyoming after bartering with some lesser locomotives to get it back from a museum operation.

Five years of effort have paid off handsomely.  This weekend, 4014 took to the rails again under its own power for the first time in nearly 60 years.  Accompanied by Union Pacific Challenger Number 844, the two mighty machines are headed for Ogden, Utah, where they will participate in the celebration honoring the 150th anniversary of the completion of the transcontinental railroad.

It's been fun following the train on Facebook pages devoted to its memory, the memory of the individual locomotives, or the event in Ogden.  YouTube is flooded with great videos of the two giants as they roll toward their celebratory goal.  And I'm damn proud of what my home town was capable of producing in its heyday!

My heartfelt thanks go out to the management of the Union Pacific for supporting this effort and the men and women who labored so hard to see it succeed.

Charlie and Brenda Part 3: Recovery and Undying Love

Charlie and Brenda Stroud

Within the last few weeks I've written about my recently departed friends Charlie and Brenda Stroud.  In my first post, I discussed how I got to know Charlie and the love of his life, Brenda.  My second post dealt with the years that Charlie and his family competed successfully in the Great American Race -- a rally for vintage automobiles.  Now, it's time to describe the years after Charlie suffered his brain aneurysm in June of 2003.

For several weeks after Charlie was stricken, he and Brenda remained in Livonia, Michigan, where Charlie was hospitalized.  He underwent several surgical procedures to relieve pressure and stop the bleeding in his brain.  His condition was slowly improving, but he was unconscious for days at a time.  Eventually, he and Brenda returned to Huntsville, where he entered a HealthSouth rehabilitation facility.  That's where I first saw him after his attack.  It was a shock to see him.  He only occasionally knew who I was when I visited.  The robust and vigorous Charlie Stroud was now a frail, aged shell of a man.  He was terribly feeble and often incoherent.  I, quite frankly, did not think he would make it.  My friend Charlie was no longer the man I knew.

But Brenda knew better.  She never gave the slightest impression of losing hope.  Every time I visited Charlie in rehab, Brenda was by his side, usually holding and massaging his frail hand.  She often had to assist in feeding him.  And he must have gotten good care, because it wasn't too many weeks before Charlie Stroud began to respond.  He started walking up and down the rehab facility corridors.  His speech became recognizable.  He began recognizing old friends and their names.  And within a few months, Charlie was released to go home with frequent visits to facilities for physical therapy and other medical/psychological services.  Brenda was his primary and always caregiver.  She took on the assignment with a vengeance.

Soon, Charlie was involved in a Pilates class for his physical development.  Brenda brought home a karaoke system.  She and Charlie would sing together for hours at a time, regardless of how it sounded, simply to develop his mental and vocal skills.  They danced and went for walks.  Brenda took him everywhere so he could redevelop social skills.  It was in a lot of ways as if she was raising a child.  And Charlie responded to the love and to all the activities.

Charlie and Brenda, in foreground, enjoying the music
of Microwave Dave and the Nukes

In November, 2009, Charlie and Brenda came to our home for a day of celebration.  Mary Ann's gift shop, "Ebabe's Gifts," had been open for a full year.  We had food, outdoor music by Microwave Dave and the Nukes, a local blues band, and lots of activity in the gift shop.  I couldn't help noticing how healthy Charlie looked and what a good time he seemed to have.  However, even on his best days, Charlie had almost childlike behavior patterns.  On this particular day, I had left my workshop open.  At one point, I noticed that Charlie had wandered off and saw him walking toward my workshop.  When I went in to see what he was up to, he had started my drill press, found a piece of scrap lumber, and was drilling a series of holes along the edge of the wood.  "Watcha doin' Charlie?" I asked.  "Drilling holes," was the reply.  Nothing could be simpler.  He stood and drilled holes for ten minutes, one after another, in several pieces of scrap wood.  When he got bored with this activity, he shut off the drill press and went back to the music of Microwave Dave.

Charlie, Brenda, and family celebrating Charlie's 90th birthday

We saw Brenda and Charlie infrequently over the last few years.  We had dinner at their home a couple times and had them up to our home a couple of times.  Brenda was Charlie's Angel, always watching and protecting him, sometimes from himself.  Their mutual love was radiant.

Then one day, I heard from a friend that Brenda had been diagnosed with terminal cancer.  What a shock!  This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen.  She was much younger and should survive Charlie, but now it seemed she would be the first to leave us.  And so she did in May of 2018.  It was a sad time, but one in which we could rejoice that she and Charlie had enjoyed so many happy years together.

I learned at the time of Brenda's passing that Charlie was going to live with family members in Texas.  I knew little more.  Now that he has gone to be with his beloved partner, we know that Charlie was bathed in love by his family in his twilight months.  Bye, Charlie.  We'll meet on the other side.  I wonder if they have cigars over there...