Appian Way - Tidbits

(Diary kept while in Italy)

25 Feb 92

Yesterday was a long day.  There is some sort of problem with the orders but I really don’t care, I am here now.  At least the lodging and transportation is working out fine. 

The BMW we rented is really too small for all six of us but some how we all manage to pile in.

Last night we all walked around Tirrenia stopped to drank some wine and eat spaghetti and bread.  Sgt. Kennedy and I left the others, went to another restaurant/bar and just sat around till one o’clock in the morning talking and drinking beer between wines. 

26 Feb 92

I get my days mixed up.  Yesterday, or I think it was yesterday, I got the Sgts started on a project and scanned some secret op-plans (they didn’t seem to secret to me.)  The only highlight of the day was when Sgt Ball, our interpreter, and I went to Livorno.  I thought it might not be a bad idea to put boots on the ground at the place we were developing new defense plans, albeit never to be used I suspect.  Sgt. Ball readily agreed just to get off post and besides he said he wanted me to know where the bars were.  It seems like that is all he ever has on his mind.  Ever since he brought up the subject, the first time I met him, I have continually told him I wasn’t interested.  He said he realized that but suggested that perhaps some of my enlisted men would be.  Two might I think. 

We road around the city dodging traffic, weaving in an out between cars (I was driving) and he pointed a couple of the bars out.  The trip was so confusing and I was so turned around that I could not get back there if I wanted – which I don’t.  The two guys who might be interested will just have to suffer.

Other than all the traffic my observations were of narrow streets, cars parked on sidewalks, and an extremely dirty city over all with trash on the streets and dried dirt on what would other wise be very attractive edifices.  The buildings could use a good sandblasting.

As we were driving along I kept wondering what type of businesses were in the buildings, what did the insides look like, wondered when they were built, and if they had any significant history attached.  Sgt Ball, who has lived in Italy, France, and Germany for the last 19 years has no idea and cares less.  He is much more interested in the whores.

As we went back towards camp he said he new a short cut and thought I would like the scenery along the way.  I soon found out what kind of scenery he was talking about.  The whores apparently stand along the road in some areas that look like a rural setting.  There were a couple of whores he knew standing along the road.  One looked like a nice young girl, the other whom he apparently knew better than the other, looked every bit the part of being of whore – short dress, low top, bad teeth.  Of course he had to stop.  They muttered something in Italian.  He said she wanted to know if I wanted a “date.”  I said no.  He pinched her on the boob, they both laughed and we drove off.  He wanted to know if I thought she was good looking.  I tried to be polite and be non committal because I feared she might look like his wife.  He thought she was hot.

An Eskimo Child's Day - Alaska

This was first printed in:  Whispering Wind, American Indian: Past and Present  Vol 34 No. 4

While not typical, this could be an average day of one Eskimo child in “bush” Alaska, let us call him Itauk.

Itauk wakes at 8am because he is cold.  The family spot smells from not being dumped the previous day.  Mom was to sick to take it to the landfill and no one has seen Dad for two days because he does not want to return from the hunt empty handed.  Itauk steps outside to relieve himself.

He is numbed by the cold but he always is.  His tooth still hurts and his nose is running and his cough won’t seem to go away.  He digs through a pile of clothes on the floor and picks out what he wore yesterday because that is the cleanest things he has, not that he cares that much anyway.  He hurries off to school for the warmth that a centrally heated building provides.  He goes into the special education class where rolls and hot chocolate are sold.  He sits there long enough until the teacher offers him something free and one of the other kids shares one of this rolls that more than likely he also got free.  The coffee shop does not make much money.  He stays as long as he can but finally is forced to go to class.

He does not have a pencil has no idea what happened to his home work, does not understand what the teacher is saying, finds no relevance in what is being taught and therefore puts his head on his desk and goes to sleep.  Eventually he slips to the floor and uses his jacket for a pillow.  The teacher does not bother to wake him because if he is asleep at least he is not causing a disturbance, thereby requiring Itauk to be sent to the office thus being kicked out of school for up to two weeks.  The teacher realizes that school is far better than home.  Let him sleep.

When kids line up for lunch he awakes and gets in line.  Lunch is hot, plentiful, and free.  After lunch he plays basketball until a different teacher comes to the gym, they line up and goes to his afternoon class.  He is awake now but doesn’t do much because he does not understand what sustained and silent reading means, wonders why anyone would want to circle a noun even if they knew what one was, and cannot imagine why anyone would want to learn the capital of Missouri even if they knew what Missouri was.

Some how he manages to get through the rest of the afternoon without getting into to much trouble, and when school is dismissed he lingers and asks the teacher if he can check his email.  The teacher knows Itauk does not have an email account but lets him get on the computer and ignores the fact that he has gone on the Internet and is playing a video game. When the teacher is ready to go home he tell Itauk that it is time to go and Itauk reluctantly signs off.  The teacher retreats to a world not imagined by Itauk.

Itauk goes, not home but to the playground or the gym and hangs around other kids who do not want to be anywhere else.  If it is warm they play outside.  Warm being above 0 degrees.  Ituk gets tired of playing and is hungry.  He goes to a teacher’s house (he goes to a different one each day) and asks if he can visit.  About half the time he is welcomed in, he is likeable and cute.  He watches TV, uses the bathroom, is offered something to eat and out stays his welcome.  He is politely reminded he should be going home and he just as politely agrees. Itauk, though not a good student or understands why he should be is not a stupid child.

He wanders around the village, perhaps stopping by a friend’s house , perhaps an aunt or uncle’s, maybe the local missionary, or a half dozen places that might give him some warmth or something to eat.  He runs into other kids and if they have a four wheeler or snow-go he rides around with them.  He does this for hours going from one part of the village to the other, down to the beach, out on the tundra, anywhere.  If there is a basketball game, which there is most nights, he and his friends go to the gym and hang around outside until a teacher who has not been hardened pays his way in or he is asked to do a small errand, payment being free entry.

After the game he continues his journey around the village.  The local police start to enforce the curfew at 10pm, but this does nothing but to make riding around the village more fun.  Who can stay away from the police, and not get caught the longest is a badge of honor.  This lasts until at least midnight and eventually the inevitable takes place and Itauk goes home.

The one room house is cold, the family pot is full, Mom is still sick and Dad is not there.  The TV reception is not good but there is an old video and it is watched.  Around three o’clock in the morning Itauk drifts off to sleep.  There is school tomorrow.

So ends the day of Itauk, just one of the next generation of a culture that has lived and survived in the Arctic for ten thousand years.

Note to reader:  When I returned from Alaska I started teaching school in the inner city.  Itauk’s life was not a lot different than many of the students near the urban core.

Panama Pundit 4

Jan 6, 1991

I am tired; the wreck took it out of me emotionally.  Poor young man.  He had come to Panama for his first real great adventure of his life probably and died here.

The rest of the day was uneventful.  We returned to Sheraton and will be here for a few days coordinating convoy departures to what is now called Camp Thomas.  Presently I am sitting by the ocean, sea, or bay, or what ever you want to call it.  Anyway it is the entrance to the canal.

Jan 8

Went to see Bob Vaughn at his barracks.  We just talked and watched a tape he had.

Jan 9

Last night we returned to base camp to stay over night at least, or so they say.  Went to the river to wash our vehicles, we call it the Panamanian Car Wash.  Talked to Jerry for awhile.  He seems to be staying busy, busier than I.

Today so far has been interesting.  Johnson, another guy and I walked through the jungle area.  We went to the top of a hill and looked out over the ocean.  We later walked into Nombre and gave it a complete walk through.  Strictly third world I suspect, if I knew what a third world looks like.  We ran into Rodriguez, our interpreter, and he took us to a back ally place near the lagoon.  We found a house that had a picnic table outside under a wooden canopy where the owner served us lunch.  It was some kind of fish which we were not familiar with, a fried banana thing, might have been a polenta,  some sort of squash we think, and a rice dish consisting of coconuts and lintels.

Jan 10

Today is Darren’s birthday.  Went back into Nombre and ate lunch again at the same place we did yesterday.  We discovered that if we spoke Spanish the meal was $3, if we did not it was $4.  The lunch was octopus, shrimp, that rice dish again along with the fried banana thing.  I am really not impressed with Panamanian food.  Looks like we will head back to Ft Sheraton for awhile. 

Jan 11

The trip back and forth between Sheraton and Thomas is getting routine.  The people still wave at us as we go by and we of course wave back and when we stop for some reason always pass out candy to the kids that seem to flock around the vehicle.  Jerry was there doing an inventory or something.  That night in the military club I ate pizza and won $12 on a nickel slot machine.

Where's the Moose? - Alaska, part 3

“Years ago, there were three brothers named Wolf, Bear, and Moose.  Each brother took on the characteristics after the animal that was in his spirit.  Wolf was clever and swift of foot, Bear was strong and brave, and Moose was lazy and stupid.

“Wolf and Bear would hunt the seal and the salmon.  Moose, finding that hunting of seal and fishing for salmon was much work, would wonder around the village eating the garbage thrown out by his neighbors or rummage through the tundra looking for berries and other edible plants.  When winter arrived and berries and plants went deep in the earth not to return until spring, Moose would have to beg for food from his brothers.  The brothers did not mind at first because they were good hunters and stored up plenty for the long dark days of winter.  But then Wolf and Bear took a wife and had many children and the women told their husbands that they had no excess of food to share with one who would not even try to provide for himself during the lean times.

“Moose did not understand why he would have to work as hard as his brothers.  So one winter day after eating all the garbage that could be eaten, he stole the children of his brothers and ate them.  It was easy, as the children did not run away – in fact, they would even seek Moose out because he was funny looking to them.  Moose found out that this was easier than foraging for garbage and much easier than walking the tundra, so he began to eat all the children in the village that he could.

“The villagers went to the other two brothers and said that Moose must be killed.  Wolf and Bear loved their brother and did not want to hurt him so they dressed in skins of their spirits and chased Moose far way and when they had chased him far enough, they returned to the village to tell everyone that Moose was dead and would not return to Raven Bay.

“The brothers were afraid that even though Moose was stupid, he might accidentally find his way back to the village, so each day they would roam the tundra to hunt and guard the village against the return of Moose.  The guarding interfered with their hunting so the brothers went to their spirit animals and made a deal with them.  They promised all the bears and wolves that if they would protect the village from the return of Moose, they would leave some of their game on the beach each day so they could concentrate on protecting the village and not do much hunting.  That is why other than man, the moose has no enemy except the wolf and bear.”

Jimmy Rivers stopped talking and I found it necessary to ask, “What happened to Moose?”

“Well as often happens to lazy and stupid people,”  Jimmy continued, “He got lucky.  The place Moose was chased to was rich in berries and tall plants and shrubs that grew above the Tundra snow.  He met his spirit, married and had many Moose children.   He became so ashamed that he had eaten his brothers children, he made his own children promise never to return to the village area.  Besides he told them there was no food in the winter and that they would starve.  Would you like another cup of tea, Gussick?”

I drank another cup of tea, talked about Michael Jordan, and Jimmy’s time in the army.  I finally asked him how he became a shaman.  He told me.  I would tell you but you would not believe me.

After another cup of tea, I said it was time to go and started for the trap door when Jimmy said, “Why don’t you use the front door,”  pointing to the blanket hanging next to the Jordan poster.  “It is easier on the back.”

I left the semi-subterranean dwelling standing upright and walked out onto the Bering Sea beach with Jimmy following me.  As I was mounting my 4-wheller he asked, “Do you believe me Gussick?”  “Certainly,” I replied and drove off and thought I heard some chuckling behind me.

From that time on every time I sat in front of my fireplace thinking about my conservation with Jimmy Rivers, I found myself wondering why such a story could not be true or at least have some basis in fact.  The longer I would sit there and stare at the moose head hanging over the stone fireplace, I swear to this day that it was grinning down at me.

Where's the Moose? - Alaska, part 2

Jimmy Rivers lived out by the Bering Sea among the dunes in an area the locals referred to as the Old Village.  The Old Village was where Eskimos lived at one time that no one ever knew, nor no one ever knew anyone who ever knew anyone who lived there; except Jimmy River that is.

His dwelling would not have been easily located unless one had the skill and training to detect semi-subterranean housing.  Nothing distinguished one part of the tundra dunes from any of the other mounds in the area.  But given my training, I knew what to look for - the subtle changes in the contours of the earth, the faint discoloration of the tundra, and the slight relocation of the various moss and sod would have been completely unnoticed to the untrained eye – Jimmy Rivers sitting on his 4-wheller in the front yard didn’t hurt my skills of observation either.

I dismounted my 4-wheeler and walked towards Jimmy.  I was not sure how I should address him and then he said, as if reading my mine, “Jimmy is fine.”  I stuttered something or other as we shook hands and was then invited inside for tea.

Entering his house was no small feat because he had an Arctic entrance way, meaning you got down on all fours, crawled into a hole down a few feet, then parallel for another few feet then up again to the entrance of his dwelling.  I was a little taken aback from what I found.  I was expecting to see totems, hanging skins, masks, and other Eskimo artifacts.

The first thing I noticed however was a poster of Michael Jordan hanging on one of the sod walls.  There was also a television, microwave, toster, and something cooking in the crock-pot.

“I was an electrician in the Army and know how to tap in.”  He said, beating me to my question.

He poured me some strong tea, offered me a rolled cigarette which I reluctantly accepted having sworn off tobacco forever that morning and said,  “Jimmy I was…” 

“You will not believe me,” he interrupted. 

I protested that I would, but how did he know what I was going to ask I asked myself?  I was beginning to think that this guy was a real mind reader or perhaps Nanook had tipped him off.

“I don’t know what you were going to ask, but Gussicks never believe shamans.  And I am not a mind reader and how is my good friend Nanook, I have not seen in him in weeks.  Now about the Moose.”  Well that did it, I realized I was in the presence of a true mind reader or a true shaman, one with native abilities far beyond those of mortal men, and who, disguised as Jimmy Rivers was going to give me the truth, justice, and the Raven Bay explanation as to my enquiry.  Clark Kent eat your heart out.

“I hear you are a good Gussick, you do not judge, you do not condemn and even some of your people are of color.  All that makes you my brother.  So as a brother I will tell you.  Being my brother you will believe me – being a Gussick you will not – let your heart decide which way you will hear.”

“Years ago……”  

To be continued….

Where's the Moose? - Alaska, part 1

 Alces alces  (Latin)

Moose are everywhere in Alaska.  You can find them in school yards, you can find them in backyards, you can find them in yard gardens, you can see them walking down the right of ways in Anchorage, you can find their antlers adorning entrances, exits, dens and over fireplaces, you can find them or parts of them anywhere you look – anywhere that is except for Raven Bay.

Whenever I had a question that gnawed at me concerning local matters while living in Raven Bay, I always asked my good friend Nanook.  Yes there really is a Nanook of the North. 

Nanook was a wise man.  He had lived all his life in Raven Bay and one of the first of a growing number of villagers that had sought and received a college education.  Except for time spent in college he never has left his village for very long however, and had no visible means of support, other than welfare, subsistence hunting, and the yearly oil money.  His life style was by choice.  He could do any paying job that was in the village but mostly was only interested in acting as an elder, advisor, and a wise old sage.

So with all his local knowledge and wise sageism, with a degree to boot, I was sure that he could explain to me why the absence of moose.

“Nanook,” I asked one day, “Why are there no moose in Raven Bay?”

“Because they are some where else.”  He replied.

“Yes, I have figured that out, but ‘why’ is the question.”

“Why do you always ask questions when the answers make no difference!

“Nanook, we have been friends now for a long time.  You have helped me blend into the community and you have put your feet under my table more than once, as I have yours.  I think you know the answer to my question so why don’t you just tell me.”

“You would not believe me, talk to the Shaman.”  With that he walked away.

Shaman?  Well so much for the scientific and educational part of his nature I thought.

My wife was cooking dinner later that night and I casually mentioned my conversation with Nanook.  I said that I had thought that shamans did not exist anymore around villages and if they did I certainly didn’t know who it was. 

She just laughed and said, “Oh, you mean Jimmy Rivers.  He lives out by the old dunes.  Sort of a hermit the kids say.”

The impossible becomes the possible when you put it in the hands of a woman who substitute teaches and small children who appreciate the fudge and Italian cookies she would bring them each time she was called to sub. 

I was surprised she knew who the village shaman was.  Beverly didn’t know that she was not supposed to know nor did the kids know that they were not supposed to tell.  However, candy and cookies are eagerly consumed once presented and there must have been a direct correlation between treats and wiggly tongues.

“Why don’t you go ask him?”

To be continued…

Deutschland Diary - 4

Thursday, September 13, 1984

We woke at 0230 and sat around after loading our 5T tuck and left at 0530.  We traveled for about an hour and stopped for 20 minutes where we were the German army served us Bruska (hard roles) and coffee.

We then traveled SE for two more hours, rested for 2 hours and were served more Bruska and hot Austrian tea along with some kind of meat. 

We continued SE and at 1430 we pulled into our new Tactical Assembly Area near a town called Bouck.  We are setting up now.  Things are still confusing.

Friday the 14^th

Last evening a lot of the neighborhood kids came by and bummed food from us out of our extra MRE’s.  One little girl had on a University of Missouri sweat shirt.  A boy had on a pair of tennis shoes which had Elvis written on the side of each shoe.  They understood a little English.  I kept thinking about you kids, how kids everywhere are just the same.

Our camp site was next to the local soccer field.  I think it is called a Sportplats.  The town is off limits but Thomas, Jerry, and I walked there anyway.  It is just an old rural town.  The church we found out was over 800 years old.

My first German meal was eaten at the soccer fields guesthouse.  I had bratwurst, French fries, and a coke.  That is all they had.

We found out that our tour is approved for next weekend.  At least I will get to call and buy you all something.  Perhaps take some pictures.