Short Brothers Planes

 

The Short 330  is easily recognized by its square fuselage,
high aspect ratio wings, and destinctive twin vertical stabilizers.



Those of a certain age, and I’m talking fortyish, might remember the old Shorts aircraft that Alleghany Commuter used for their commuter flights from regional airports such as Reading (RDG) to Philly, New York, and Pittsburgh as well as other smaller airports like New Haven and Richmond. The first of these were the Shorts 330’s. They were odd looking planes with long skinny wings (high aspect ratio), twin vertical stabilizers, and a very boxy (square cross section) fuselage. I always wondered how they were able to fly. The 330’s were then replaced by another Short Brothers unusual, but somewhat more normal-looking, aircraft, the 360. I had the opportunity to fly in the 360’s back in the mid 90’s and I was always impressed by their power and how quickly they jumped off the runway. The passenger compartment was loud and the seating was not luxurious. The high aspect ratio wings were very efficient, producing relatively low induced drag, providing more than adequate lift with added economy of flight. This gave the 330 and 360 the capability for short take-offs and landings and be economical to fly. From personal experience, I am under the impression that the trade off for this STOL ability was ride smoothness.

There were a number of variants of the 330 for passenger, cargo and military use. Besides Tanzania and Thailand they were also used in military service in both Great Britain and the US. The 330’s are still in use throughout the world, now relegated to mostly cargo duty since they are able to carry lots-O-stuff or used to fly into small landing strips in jungles and other remote areas. They are rugged planes and uncommonly durable.

The 330, which began production in 1973, was based on another Short Brothers aircraft called the SC7 Skyvan, call it the 330’s older, little brother. The Skyvan was made from 1963 to 1986, there were 153 built over that time. If you think the 330 was odd looking it was a definite improvement over the Skyvan!

Yellow Boxfish - A juvenile Yellow Boxfish
(Ostracion cubicus) taken on
Redang Island, West Malaysia.

http://www.underwater.com.au/image.php/id/5734/


They say the majestic tri-tailed Constellation was modeled after the slippery-looking Dauphin. I always thought the Skyvan was modeled after a Boxfish (except for that twin tail thing). It might be one of the ugliest planes ever designed. But, the important thing is it worked.



The SC7 Skyvan was a success for the Short Brothers of Ireland.
Obviously when it comes to airplanes looks doesn't matter



It was and, despite its age, still is in use throughout the world. In the US they seem to be used a lot for sky diving because they can carry 13 jumpers. Other parts of the worls value its short take off and landing abilities and the fact that it can haul up to 5,200 lbs (2,360 kg) of cargo. Its turbo-prop engines offer a lot of grunt and it is still one of the more utilitarian and tough planes you’ll find anywhere

Thanks for reading me,

Don

The Last Airbender: The Last Disappointment



M. Night Shyamalan was out of his genre on this one and I'm afraid it showed. I was expecting The Last Airbender to rival Avatar since the Shamalyan/Cammeron feud over the use of the word "Avatar" started in the courts before either movie was released.



For more pictures and info:
 http://www.thelastairbendermovie.com/

Unfortunately TLA fell far short of what it could have been. It is my opinion that Shyamalan muted the intensity of the film since it is basically a children's story borrowed from Nickelodeon. Night is capable of making this much more intense by unleashing the creative juices that fueled The Sixth Sense and The Village; however that might have caused the Nick at Night crowd a few restless nights.

The fact that the movie was not filmed in 3D and added as a post-production gimmick because "everyone else was doing it" just didn't work for me. The indoor scenes were dark enough and the silly 3D sunglasses made it worse. Once again, we don't know all that transpires behind corporate studio doors and my hunch is that the suits did a little arm twisting to the ratty-jeans-wearing producer/director.

The young stars did a commendable job and to those who poo-pooed their performance I say "get a life"! We, today's movie-going audience, are more sophisticated and tech-savvy than ever before. We pay attention to camera movements and lens choices, not to mention what's CGI and what's real. I wonder how Shirley Temple would be reviewed if she stepped out of a time machine and auditioned for a 21st century flick. I wonder if she'd even get a call-back?

The kids did great! Dev Patel, being more experienced and not really a kid, was a step better than the others, but I enjoyed all of them. That is thanks in part to all the AD's, AP's, and assistant-anything-elses that worked with them. Yes, the leads had their own trailers and tutors, but the other young actors went to school in a one-room school tent and would be gently ushered on set when they were needed. They did a commendable job. All were well behaved except one. There was this one eight year old with a too-long, shaggy, blonde Prince Valiant haircut that was a bit of a terror and his au pare had trouble controlling him. Had he been mine . . . let’s just say he would not have been such a terror, and he would have had a better haircut!

Overall, the movie was entertaining but not an award winner. If you are like me and take most movies for what they are and sit back and enjoy a video story, this movie is fine. The simple story line is good versus evil and being good isn't easy, it takes perseverance and sometime pain. Story lines don't have to be complicated. After all, look at Avatar isn’t it just the story of Pocahontas (at least the Disney version)?

Working on this movie with my bud Night, was an incredible education. Being one of a hundred nameless background actors is humbling. When they would cast scenes we would line up like kids on the playground waiting to chosen for a pick-up baseball game. But, unfortunately, art imitates life. It was rare that I was chosen for any smaller “intimate” scenes. I got in the large crowd scenes. You can look and look but I doubt you will find my bearded face anywhere. In one scene I was only two people away from the boom-mounted camera as it bisected the throng. I thought, this has to be in the movie! I envisioned my serious-looking actor’s expression to be eight feet high on the IMAX for the entire world to see. In the final cut, the scene starts from a point just after the camera passed my head. Oh well, I’ll just have to wait for my shot at universal fame.

I bought the DVD from Amazon – it was already on sale for $16.95. Imagine how cheap it will be by summer. I suppose I’ll find it in the dump-bin at the grocery store on sale for $5.99 by then. I guess it was unrealistic to think my movie would be the next Gone with the Wind, or, The Wizard of Oz. Heck, I’d settle for 30,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

Thanks for reading me,
 
Don
 
PS: Even though I'm not likely to be seen in the movie, part of my home town is in it. The pagoda shown in the above illustration is the pagoda on Mt. Penn.

Eric Whitacre: Conductor, Composer, Virtual Visionary



Eric Whitacre (Photo by Marc Royce)



I ran across a very interesting interview with Eric Whitacre, an American composer/conductor currently living in England (Cambridge University). I know my colleagues with the Berkshire Chorale are familiar with his works since we performed his popular Sleep at our last concert.



During the interview he discusses a wide range of topics including:

• Fainting choristers, the four styles of fainting

• Vomiting choristers, not to be too graphic, but the word “projectile” was used

• Conducting, gestures he’s stolen from other conductors

• The Virtual Choir, its history and future

• Technology, he is a self-described geek

• Mullets, reliving the 80’s

• His desire to be a roadie for Depeche Mode



Mr. Whitacre’s embrace of technology is, in my opinion, one of the reasons his music has been at the top of the classical charts and even occasionally spills over to pop charts. After all, to attract today’s audiences, today’s promoter must use the electronic media that is so much a part of contemporary life. Eric is handsome, personable, and real, a perfect candidate to take advantage of this audio/visual electronic age.

The interview took place on Second Life this past Sunday. For those of you not familiar with Second Life, it is a virtual world populated by literally millions of people from around the world, each of which is represented as an avatar. An avatar is a graphical representation that has been created by its owner to show the world how he/she wants the world to see him if he had a chance to re-create his looks. Maddox Dupont created Eric’s avatar and did a heck of a good job matching the maestro’s likeness. I too am a member of the SL community and I can tell you first hand, getting an avatar to look exactly as you envision it is a difficult task.

This interview is a great example of the global scope of SL; the interviewer, Paisley Beebe, is sitting in her home in Sidney, Australia and Eric is sitting in his home in England. The interview took place in real-time and shown on-screen on a talk show type set. The audience is populated by avatars, all being operated by real people sitting at their computers around the world. Sometimes we forget there is a real person behind every avatar on the screen.

The bad news: this interview is 45 minutes long! The entire video is over an hour long and contains commercials (yes, Second Life is very much like real life) and a full-length performance of the Virtual Choir singing Whitacre’s Lux Aurumque.

I presume that, unlike me, most of you actually have a life and can’t dedicate that much time to listen to an interview, I completely understand. I suggest that you click on the link below then once the video loads use your mouse to randomly select vignettes of the interview.

http://vodpod.com/watch/5064737-eric-whitacre-talks-music-snowcrash-vomiting-choristers-and-the-virtual-choir-

Eric Whitacre is currently recruiting vocalists to sing in his Virtual Choir – all voice parts and all ability levels (everybody will be included). His goal is to have a record-breaking 900 voices singing Sleep. Eric says that one guy actually submitted videos for all four voice parts, and, according to Eric, the guy did a pretty good job on all of them! With less than a month to go it is doubtful the goal will be reached, however, if most singers procrastinate as I do, it could be a very busy couple of weeks coning up for YouTube. For more information go to http://ericwhitacre.com/the-virtual-choir.

Now that the bulk of my seasonal singing is behind me, the Berkshire Chorale concert and another out-of-town gig (just a couple of church-related performances to go), I intend to submit a recording of Sleep to The Virtual Choir to be included in their record-breaking attempt. It seems that the record attempt is of secondary importance at this point. The important thing is to get a bunch of people together from all over the world and unite them in song, a beautiful, calming song. There couldn’t be a better time of year to have Whitacre’s dream come to fruition.

I hope you all have a stress-free Christmas season and get to enjoy the holiday to its fullest.

Peace,

Don

Not a good morning . . . or was it?

[This article was written on August 2, 2010 but for some reason never was published.]

My morning didn’t go well at all. Having said that, it was all inconveniences – nothing more. I didn’t have anybody call me saying that they were in an accident or that so-and-so is sick or any other bad news. It was just stuff that got my blood pressure up.

I parked in the parking garage about quarter to eight and walked to the Social Security office. The guard there told me that they didn’t open until 9:00 (I would swear the person I talked to said 8:00) and the earliest he could let me go up was 8:50. Grrrr #1!

So, I walked to the Reading Area Community College and had a cup of coffee in the cafeteria. I got out my iPod and (#1), I forgot my earbuds; (#2), the battery was dead. Grrrr #2! But, I did take a book (The Renegade Writer) and started reading and sipping.

At 8:20 I walked back to the SS building, expecting a line of people waiting at the elevator, there was none (Yeah!) I joked with the guard about beating the crowd and he told me that there were already a bunch of people up there. At which point I reminded him that he told me less than an hour before nobody could go up before ten of nine. He pointed to his watch and said, “It’s ten of now.” I pointed to my watch and said, “No, it’s quarter of now!” It was a moot point, when I got up there I saw there were already 40 people seated in the room and I was in a line of another ten people to just get in the door. Grrrr #3! I tried to make the best of it and joked around with the people in line with me. My kidding would have been more effective had it been in Spanish.

By the time I got inside it was about 8:55. Just inside the room there was a gentleman screening everybody, asking them why they were there. He would then touch a number on a computer screen to print a position number in line and a number for a particular window, there were only three windows, and hand the ticket to the client. Finally, my turn! “Sir, why are you here today?” I told him I wanted to apply for SS retirement benefits.” Hmmm,” he responded, “you’re going to have trouble with that.” (WTF?) “Why”, I said? He then told me he didn’t have the personnel available to handle that right now and if I waited I’d be there most of the day; I should call the 800 number and get an appointment. I replied sharply that I already did that and was told it would take two months to get an appointment; it would be faster to just show up. He told me that wasn’t true, if I called they could get me an appointment this week yet. “Well that’s not what I was told” I retorted with the wit of a five year old (not sure if I stomped my foot or not). So, that should be Grrrr#’s 4 through 10, but we’ll just leave it at #4! Hey, he couldn’t control what others said to me, so I tried my best to be polite, took the card with the phone number on it he handed to me, thanked him, and headed back down the elevator; only after someone already in the elevator allowed the doors to close almost catching my nose. OK, truth be told, it more likely came closer to catching my stomach. Anyway, I had to wait for the next one. Grrrr #5!

So I walked past the guard that doesn’t know how to set a watch and out into the fresh morning air. It was a few minutes before nine and even in downtown Reading the air was still crisp and fresh. The cool air reminded me of the Rocky Mountains and my frazzled brain flashed back to the wonderful time we had there. Ahhhhhh. The lower floors of the parking garage had vacant store fronts. I thought about how nice a location that would be for a coffee/pie shop. It’s directly across from the Imax theatre, a block away from RACC, next to the Goggleworks, and within a few blocks of numerous office buildings. Hmmmm. I took down the 800 number for the rental agent. The sign said “no investment required;” how can that be? I’ll call and find out.

Well, maybe this morning wasn’t so bad after all. I climbed the garage staircase with a bit of a spring as I thought about the possibilities I had just uncovered. Since the garage was almost empty when I got there, my car was at the top of the steps. I hopped in and began the twisty route to the exit – coming close to getting hit only once, by a petite blonde in a way-to-big Escolade. I got to the gate, inserted my ticket, and . . . nothing! The readout in the little window on the ticket/fee taker said “Invalid Card” (again, WTF?). I pressed the red button with a diagonal slash across it and the machine spit my ticket back at me. Hmmm. I re-inserted it. Now the window read, “Fee $10.00.” WTF! (again and again), I looked at my watch, it was exactly 9:00, the ticket showed that I came in at 8:43; that’s $10.00 for 73 minutes? Impossible! Grrrr #6!

It was then that I noticed that the gate in the lane next to me appeared to be open. I backed up the car slightly to get a better look at it. When I did I heard the machine with my ticket in it make some mechanical noises, and that wasn’t good. The gate next to me actually was not open so I coasted back to where I had been, pressed the red button to retrieve my card and start this thing all over again, only to find out the machine had swallowed my card and I could not retrieve it. Grrrr #7!

Ahhhh, good luck, there is a call button, I’ll press that. I could hear a phone ringing (great!) after four rings an answering machine came on the line, “You have reached the Reading Parking Authority, we’re sorry, but we can’t take your call right now. Please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as possible.” I grumbled a few four-letter words and hit the shiny chrome button really hard to hang up. Grrrr #8

After the breeze coming in the open window cleared away the steam that filled the car after I erupted, I calmly pressed the shiny button again. Ring, ring, ring, “Hello, Parking Authority.” Hoooray! A real person. His voice carried with it the caring and gentleness of a guy named Bruno or maybe Guido. I explained my situation to which he responded, “Ahh, OK.” His tone was as if I had just run over his dog. Hey, it’s your garage Bruno, let me out, I didn’t do anything wrong! In the background I could hear him talking on the walkie-talkie (are they still called that or are they just “radios” now?). Then all was quiet, he said nothing to me. I said “Should I move my car or just sit and wait here?” He told me to leave it there somebody would be there is a few seconds. Well, he didn’t lie. In a few seconds I saw Slim sauntering down the hill from another garage a block away. This guy was about six feet two and weighed maybe, on a rainy day, 125 pounds. He reminded me of the character Bill Cosby used to talk about. They would hold him by his heels and lower him through the sewer grate to get the quarters in the bottom of the sewer. Oh, sorry, I digress. Slim was actually a nice guy: polite and friendly, not like Bruno at all. When I told him it wanted to charge me $10.00 he said, “Yep, this garage is $5.00 an hour.” Fortunately he followed that with, “Ahh, don’t worry about it, I’ll let you out;” and he did just that. After going through the key ring on his hip that any maintenance man would be proud to own, he opened the panel on the side of the gate, flipped a switch, and the gate whirred up out of my way. I was free! Whoopee! Thanks Slim! Thanks for putting an upper on an otherwise downer of a day.

Going Pro

As of today I am a professional writer! Well . . . maybe. I am wondering if one actually has to have "received" money to be considered professional or if the "promise" of money is enough to validate the title.

I found a site on the web called Examiner.com; a sort of on-line magazine with thousands of "Examiners" (correspondents) from all over the US and the rest of the world. I filled out a form and submitted a sample of my writing. About three days later I got a letter from them congratulating me for being accepted as an "Examiner." To me, the word "examiner" conjures up visions of grocery store tabloids - nothing with which I particularly want to be associated. However, I figure it is a good way to get my feet wet and see if the rest of the world accepts my writing like my friends do. For those of you that told me I ought to write for a living (in the absence of a real job), this is for you.

As far as the money goes . . . not only won't I get rich doing this, it wont even pay my monthly internet bill. The company is very secretive about exactly how they pay, it is a covert formula, no doubt kept in the same safe as the Coke recipe. I do know this however, my page was just turned on this morning and already I have amassed three cents in my account. I visited the page three times this morning so if my arithmetic is correct, that means I get a penny a hit. Somehow, the time spent on the page is also factored in. That is the reason for the hyperlinks we are encouraged to use. I suppose if you are off surfing someplace else, my page is still open and the meter keeps running and the advertisers are charged accordingly (that's all just a guess).

Truth be told, I'd much prefer to write here, there are, for the most part, no rules here. I received file after file, page after page of information from Examiner.com, mostly Do this' and Don't do that's. Rules and regulations to be read - followed by - more rules and regulations. As a matter of fact, this morning I received an email to which four more pdf's were attached.

Before I signed my contract, I asked for an explanation regarding exactly what I was allowed to write about. Unfortunately my contact never saw fit to reply. In this morning's letter he said my page was now live and also said "Nice approach," which I take to mean he liked the way I addressed my subject. As you know, I like to travel and write about my experiences. Since I've been unemployed, I've found a few creative ways to stretch my travel dollar. So I approached Examiner.com with the idea of being a frugal traveler. They responded with the title of "Philadelphia Bargain Travel Examiner." I said I preferred "frugal" over "bargain," they obviously did not agree and kept the word bargain in the title. I intend to talk mostly about the travel and the places and throw in an occasional tidbit about how I cut expenses on the trip.

One of their rules regards the size of the articles. Although they do not actually limit article length, they prefer 300 - 400 words. My first article was over 700 words (and I had to abridge my original work to get it down to that). So, this should be an interesting experience.

Please visit my page at Examiner.com:
http://www.examiner.com/x-46401-Philadelphia-Bargain-Travel-Examiner

Thanks for reading me,

Don

Thanksgiving

Hello and Happy Thanksgiving!

It's funny how our minds work. This morning, after a conversation about Thanksgiving dinner, I thought of a friend of mine on the far left coast. I had the opportunity to visit with Zay and her husband a little over a year ago and thoroughly enjoyed their hospitality. I was on a tight schedule and I only spent a day and a half in their Hobbit neatly tucked into the heavily wooded hillside near Santa Clara.

During my visit, Zay received a package from UPS (I think). She brought it in the house and opened it. I remember that she was, if not excited, she was at least very glad to receive it. It was evidently the last piece of her Thanksgiving dinner puzzle. Zay’s smile broadened as she carefully reached into the brown box, her fingers carefully making their way through the packaging material. I’m sure the furrows on my confused brow swirled into a huge question mark as she pulled her hand from the box. I finally saw it; I saw a mason jar filled with . . . well . . . filled with stuff. The stuff was coarse and granular.

Upon recognizing my confusion, she explained that it was the brine mixture for her turkey. This was foreign to me. I don’t know anybody here in the Pennsylvania Dutch country that soaks their turkey in brine. Very likely there are people that do it, but nobody I know. The mixture of salt and spices are then dissolved/mixed in water and the turkey is marinated in it before being placed in the oven. It sounds very interesting and something I would like to try sometime. Let’s face it; turkey is not the most flavorful meat in the world and adding the bouquet of flavors from the brine has to be an improvement. Oh yeah, it just might be safer than that hot oil thing too.

-------------

This Thanksgiving will be bittersweet. Rolling into this week our small family was flying high on the wings of the accomplishments of my two granddaughters. Then yesterday my son and his pregnant wife excitedly went to the doctor’s for their first chance to hear the tiny baby’s heartbeat; except . . . there was none.

This little creature of God never got a chance to know how much it was wanted. I, for one, have never known two people that are better candidates for parenthood. They deserve to have a child. If only things could be different for them. . .

The reality is, I have a lot to be thankful for, and at the top of my list are my granddaughters (my daughter’s daughters). My younger granddaughter (11 years old) is a gymnast and the older (14 years old) is a soccer goalie. The most important thing is that they both get A’s in school. The older sister always has gotten superior marks but the younger has traditionally struggled; to the point where they almost held her back a grade two years ago. As it turns out, they discovered she has Attention Deficit Disorder – how they discovered it is a long story, I’ll just say her gymnastics coach had a lot to do with it. So, now she is on meds and Bingo! Straight A’s and she can focus better in gymnastics. She won the state title (Level 5) in spring and won two events and the “All Around” in her meet this past weekend.

The older and her mother (my daughter) just got back from Tampa last night. Her team had qualified to represent the Mid-Atlantic States in the Super-Y League North American soccer championships. They went as the number two seed from the region. They won their bracket in the preliminary rounds (the tournament started last Friday) to move on to the semi-final elimination round. They won 3-2 after two overtimes to advance to the championship round yesterday. Unfortunately, they lost 3-1 in that game against a very dominating, well-coached team (this team went through the tournament undefeated). Older’s team took a lot of positives from the tourney: 1) on their way to winning their bracket, they beat a team that hadn’t been beaten in 14 months; 2) in the semi game, they trailed 1-0 for most of the game but found a way to score in the last 30 seconds to send it into overtime – they didn’t give up and hang their heads like they usually do, they are learning how to win; 3) and this is no small point, being second in North America ain’t bad!

So, yes, this Thanksgiving will be a bittersweet one, but life goes on. We are, I believe, a strong family and hopefully we will be able to focus on the positive moments we’ve experienced.

Wishing everyone a great Thanksgiving, a very enjoyable, love-filled Christmas, and all my best wishes for a prosperous, healthy New Year.

Thanks for reading me,

Don

My Past-port

Printed next to a picture of me that I hardly recognize is the date 22 SEP 94. Next to that the Date d’experiation 21 SEPT 04.

It’s been almost fifteen years since I got my passport in preparation for our trip to London. [It was a great trip; $499.00 got us a round trip flight and a weeks lodging in The Royal Hotel in downtown London. Ahhh, yep, good times!] That passport saw a lot of miles, not many compared to some, but much more than others.

The thing that struck me funny about the date was the year, not the fact that it was 1994, but that it was just plain 94, nine-four. That was back before we thought the world might come to a stop because computers would get confused and think it was 1900 again. It was also before I even heard of something called Multiple Myeloma that would eventually turn my world upside down. And, of course, it was before 911, which really did both stop the world and turn it upside down.

Although I might have shown it a couple times to cross into Canada, and more importantly, get back, the last I needed it was in 2001. Ever since that time, it laid quietly at the ready (you know, “just in case”) in a safe deposit box at the bank. 21 SEP 04 came and went, I never received a friendly note from Uncle Sam saying,

“Dear Don,
I just thought you might like me to remind you that your passport is expiring in a few months. Please call me, I’ll be happy to help you renew it.
Love, Your Uncle S.”

Nope; no note, letter, telegram, e-mail, phone call, or printed obituary; the little blue and gold book just quietly expired, unknown and un-remembered by anybody. I took solace in the fact that it wasn’t alone when it expired. It was nestled safely between its friends U.S. Savings Bonds and old life insurance policies. Nevertheless, it expired without a thought on my behalf of Big Ben, The Cliffs of Mohr, The Slate Grotto on Valencia Island, or the Irish Mad Cow Disease scare in ’01.

Truth be told, I didn’t need it or really want it. You see, I discovered something even better than traveling to Europe, or the Caribbean. It is called the U.S. of A. Our country offers so much and most of us poo-poo the idea of traveling domestically. I don’t mean a weekend down the shore (that’s “going to the beach” if you aren’t from the PA/NJ area). I mean a pile-the-luggage-on-the-roof-and-the-kids-in-the-back-seat, see the countryside vacation. Take Johnny’s picture in front of the World’s Largest Ball of String, marvel at the patience required to construct Roadside America, or have lunch at the Diner-saur park where hulking metal dinosaurs watch you eat and “Pink Ladies” serve you.

Is flying off to an island where the people speak a dialect of English I can hardly understand really that much better than eating a burger and having a salt-rimmed drink, watching the sunset at the southern-most point of the US? Or . . . what about eating a steak and drinking a glass of wine while your restaurant slowly rotates high above the city of Seattle. Have you seen or done that? [Does it seem to you that I equate good times to eating?]

Chapter after chapter and volumes stacked on volumes have been written about the scenery and people of Alaska and Hawaii. Put it on your To-Do list, reading about those places is for sissies, do it! How about the center of our country? Starting with the great arch in St Louis (that engineering marvel is on my bucket list by the way) and the monster Mississippi River to the unbelievable eroded rock formations farther west (you have to put Bryce Canyon on your list if you haven’t been there).

This past fall I checked off another line of my list. Being a car guy, driving California Route 1 (the Pacific Coast Highway) in a convertible at a better than brisk pace was almost as good as . . . well, never mind. Let’s just say the only time I wasn’t smiling is when I came upon a lumbering mini-van, but as soon as I was able to get by, the smile always returned.

Now that you’ve endured my See America First Sermon I have to tell you why I’m even talking about my expired past-port. You see, I just got back from getting my picture taken so I can renew it. Last night I printed out the required form, now all I have to do is send the signed form, two 2”x 2” photos (with the measurement from my chin to the top of my head between 1” and 1 3/8”), and a check to Uncle Sam. Then, after a brief four to six weeks I’ll have my new and improved passport in hand. Improved? Yep, not like my old one at all, this one will have a smart chip not so secretly embedded within the layers of the back cover. How James Bondish is that?

So why, you might be asking yourself, am I getting another passport? The answer is simple . . . just in case!

Please remember all our veterans this weekend and through the rest of the year. My grandfather fought in WWI. My Dad fought in WWII and was at Pearl Harbor when the Japanese came knocking. I too am a veteran of the regular Army, but I’m not aware of any Army band that defended a border. Keep the real veterans in mind like my grandfather and my father. While you are at it pray for those people wearing our uniforms and are in harms way. They are there, and in many cases hated for being there, all because of the decisions of others. These young people deserve to be back home as soon as possible.

Remember, without those that fought for us, we may not be able to drive from Down East Maine, to the Upper East Side, to East L.A. without the use of a passport.

Thanks for reading me,

Don