Lance

We try to catch at least one stage of the Giro di Italia, each time we go to Italy. The Giro is to Italy, what the Tour de France is to France. The route of the Giro changes each year and usually passes relatively close to where we stay. In 2004, the closest stage of the race was from Frosisone to Montevergine Di Mercogliano. We decide to drive to Montevergine to catch the finish. The last 10 kilometers of the stage were a steep climb up to Montevergine where there was a church.
When we arrived at the foot of the mountain., all traffic, except for news media was already blocked off. The only way to get to the top was to walk. The 10Km road was a classic switch back curved road. Since we were going to walk, we started using the ancient steps that went straight up the mountain. Every few hundred feet, we would cross the steep road that was going back and forth. We were only about a third of the way up, and as we approached another section of the road, we saw a small station wagon coming our way. My wife stepped in the road in front of the wagon and stopped them. There were four men in the car. She asked if they could give us a lift and the driver said ok if we didn't mind riding in the back of the wagon. He opened the lift gate and we sat with our legs hanging out. It wasn't dangers, as the little car with six passengers and curvy road, could never get out of first gear.
As we took off, the driver asked where we were from, and we said America.
The four men were retired professional cyclist now working as sports journalist .It was 2004 and in a few months Lance Armstrong was going to try for his sixth win of the Tour De France. The four men started talking about Lance and everything they said was bad. Each man took his turn with a litany of negative comments about Lance. We listened in silence . When they had said about all they could say, the driver , once again turned his attention to us. Where we from exactly in America.? He Asked. I answered. "Were are from Austin, Texas... the home of Lance Armstrong" . All four of the men groaned. Then they all started complementing Lance as the greatest cyclist ever.

I Quit

My first employment after leaving the service was with a small loan finance company. As a new employee, I spent most of the time in collections.
This company financed all types of small items, in hopes of capturing customers that would later make more substantial loans. Some of the products they financed were shoddy and broke and it made it difficult to collect. One company had canvassed all the teachers and sold them on a portable tape recorder. The hailed it as a innovative teaching tool. In reality, it was a piece of junk and few were ever paid for. Other items were things like surf boards, exercise equipment and health club memberships.
One night a week, we stayed late to try to get in contact with "past-dues" that we had been unable to contact during the day. While most worked the phones, one or two of us would actually knock on doors of the non payers.
I mapped out a route one evening and started on my way. The people on my list were all over nine months past due and this would be a last ditch effort before writing off their loan.
It was difficult. Driving and trying to follow a map book. The first three address I visited were empty houses. The fourth was down an unpaved road where there was a shotgun house about every 25 for 30 yards. This one had a lone light bulb shinning above the front door. I parked my car and walked up and knocked on the door. I could hear a TV and as soon as I knocked , I could hear someone moving. Someone was coming to the door, and they had to be big as the whole house was shaking. The door opened and I gasped. There was a huge man there that was as big as the biggest NFL lineman.
"Whatta you want" he barked?? "Mr. Williams?' I asked. I introduced myself and reminded him that he was nine months late and that I needed to get at least 3 payments. (I think his payments were like $30.) He grumbled something and went back in and came back with $100. I wrote out a receipt , thanked him, and left.
We had a time limit on how late we could stay out and I was already past , so I returned to the office.
As I entered the office, everyone in the office stopped what they were doing and looked at me. I was surprised and asked " What's up?" Everyone continued to stare at me in anticipation and then the assistant manager asked "What happed with Williams?" I told them he was there, but I was only able to get three payments. The office erupted in laughter and I was puzzled as I didn't think I had told a joke. One of the other collectors said. "Nobody has been out there for six months because the last time someone went, Williams told them that if anyone else ever came out, he would kill them".
I tendered my resignation the next morning

Lost

Over the years I have heard people tell stories about being lost. I think I have the best ever.
Our Auto dealership was located on Interstate 10 , about half way between San Antonio and Houston. We had a billboard on the Interstate, so we got a lot of traffic from people passing through.
It was around noon one day, and I saw a Cobra Mustang with out-of-state plates pull in and head for the garage. Both technicians were at lunch, so I ran down to the shop to see what the traveler needed. He had stopped if front of one of the stalls and I saw he had New Jersey plates. I greeted him and asked how I could help him. "Need an oil change", he replied. I told him ok and that the techs would be back in half an hour. He got out and was standing by his car and I asked him where he was headed. He raised his arm and pointed west and said "Florida". I was confused , since he was pointing towards California. I asked him where he was coming from and he replied, " New Jersey" . Now I was really confused. So I asked him again and he told me the same thing again. So I said "If your going from New Jersey, to Florida, what are you doing in Texas??" "Texas!!!??" He exclamed, "Holly Crap, I must have taken a wrong turn!!" He leaned against the car and I thought he was going to pass out. I got him to go into the waiting room and sit down. Reality began to sink in and he asked "How far did I go out the way?" I grabbed a map book and looked at it and figured about 1400 miles.
He asked to use the phone to call his mother in New Jersey. She answered and screamed "Where are you!!!??" He Responded, "Texas" . She screamed even louder, " Texas!!!! What the hell you doing in Texas??"
The technicians came back from lunch and serviced his Mustang. As he was getting into his car he said, "I sure am glad you had that billboard out the on the freeway, otherwise, I might have driven all the way to California"

What Would He Say

Over forty years ago I did something that changed a young mans life. Since that time I have often wondered what he would say if I were to meet him today.
I had been stationed in Naples Italy for over a year. My best friend had already married an Italian and I was planning on doing the same when I got discharged. I had helped my friend as he plowed through all the "red tape" that was required when an American wanted to marry an Italian.
One day, Festus, a young man who was stationed with us, came up and said he needed our help as he was planning on getting married. I was really surprised, as I had been in his room and had seen the photo he displayed of his homely high school sweetheart that he had planned to marry when he got back home. My friend and I spent all our free time with our Italian girlfriends and knew little of what was going on with the rest of the men stationed there. I asked someone that I was sure would know and here is the story I got.
One evening, a few months before, as a bunch of guys were playing pool, it came out that Festus was a virgin. True to form, the group decided that they needed to take him down to Naples to the red light district to cure his virginity. They did it. He did it, and he was in love. After that day he had started to support the prostitute to get her off the street and he wanted to marry her.
I never saw this women, but those that knew her said she was around 35 years old and looked older. Festus was 20.
I cornered Festus one day and questioned him about his girlfriend back home. He said he no longer cared about her.
Had Festus been stationed at the main base, his marriage probably would have become a fact. There were hundreds of young men there and no one would have cared or intervened. However, our base was small and everyone knew everyone. At that time we had a young Navy Capitan as our base commander. My friend and I went to talk to him. He knew about the proposed marriage and had signed off on the initial application that Festus had made. What he didn't know, was the background of the women that Festus wanted to marry. He was appalled that this women wanted to take advantage of this immature young man.
Forty-Eight hours later Festus was transferred to the U.S. Naval Base at Guantanamo Bay Cuba.

©2011

Lost in Africa

I was working on the merchant ship Del Alba on a cruse to Africa. The ship had a crew of about 30 men including officers. I worked as Officers Pantry man. My duties were to shout down a dumbwaiter to the kitchen, what the officers wanted to eat. The cook would place the plate on the dumbwaiter and I would pull it up. I also made salads and kept fresh coffee brewing all during the day. I worked about 4 hours a day and got paid for 8. The rest of the crew were hardened sailors with whom I had little in common. I pretty much stayed to myself.
The first port we hit in Africa was a Bauxite mine and we unloaded fuel oil. We then went down to Conakry in Guinea . We had 24 brand new school busses that were being given to the people there. I had watched them being loaded in Lake Charles. The longshoremen were very careful to get them all down the hole of the ship with out a scratch. The African's on the other hand, didn't have the proper equipment or qualified personal, so they managed to knock out the head and tail lights on every single bus. The rest of the ship was loaded with free Wheat. The busses and Wheat had signs painted on them. The sign said "Gift From The United States of America" . Under the sign was the figure of two hands shaking. I thought it curious that both hands were white.
Tied up next to us was the Hospital Ship Hope. The first evening we were there I went and watched a movie on board the Hope.
The next evening, I let a few of the "old Salts" talk me into going with them to what they called a luxury restaurant. We got a cab and as we drove, I tried to make a mental note as to which direction we were traveling. The cab driver was driving like crazy and attempted to hit several pedestrians along the way.
The restaurant was nice and we sat down and enjoyed a good meal. The old salts had started drinking as soon as we arrived and now after the meal, were drinking more. They were getting drunk and I was wishing I was back on the ship. At about this time another group of seaman from another ship came in. They were already drunk and had only been there a few minutes when one of them made some crude comment to one of the guys I had come with.
The guy sitting next to me stood up and leaped at the other seaman and broke his bottle of beer over they guys head. All the seaman jumped up and ran across the room and started to fight. I ran out the door.

I ran about a 100 yards before I stopped and turned around. It sounded like everyone in the restaurant was in the fight.
I started to walk in the direction where I thought the ship was. The streets were unpaved and dimly lighted. The houses were not much more than huts and as I walked I could hear music coming from some. I continued walking for about a half a hour and knew I was totally lost. I would have taken a cab, but there were none coming by. I walked cautiously past a group of young men and thankfully they paid no attention to me. I wasn't just scared, I was numb. I continued until I came to a corner that was well lit. There was a old bench and a sign for what I thought was a bus stop. I sat on the bench in hope that a cab or bus would come by. I heard someone coming up behind me before I could see them. They had on sandals and made a flopping noise as they walked. It was a young man and he sat down on the bench. He smiled and I gestured with my hands and said "ship?" He smiled and said something in French. Then something came into my mind. "Hope?" and once again I gestured something big. His eyes lighted up.. "Hope" he responded. Then with a series of gestures I got it across that I wanted to go to the Hope. He got up and made the sign for me to follow.
We must have walked for 45 minutes before we finally entered an area that I recognized as the entrance to the port. I could see the tail end of the Hope in the distance. I thanked him in a Spanish/English mixture and tried to give him a few dollars. He refused the money and walked off. I ran the rest of the way to the ship.
Later, I was at the top of the ships ladder, talking to the Guard. I heard screeching tires and saw a vehicle racing down the docks towards us. When it reached the area where the ships ladder hit the dock, it stopped. The driver jumped out and opened the back door and pulled out the three sailors I had gone to the restaurant with. He piled them up on the dock and drove off. They all three were beaten up badly and required medical attention .
I stayed on the ship at night after that.

©2011

Parallel Lives

I met Ken Godshal because of our surnames. We were both attending University of Texas Business School and had some of the same classes together. Students were assigned seating alphabetically, so we sat together.
We met to study together several times at the library during the year and parted ways at the end of the Spring semester of 1964. I was ousted for poor grades. At the time I didn't know what happened to Ken.
I drifted around for the next year, working part time, attending a junior college in Houston part time.
In the Spring of 1965 I entered a "training " school for Merchant Seaman. The "school" was run by the Seafarers International Union. To be able to work on a merchant ship, you had to have Seaman's Papers that were issued by the US Coast Guard. To get the Seaman's Papers, you had to have the endorsement of the Union. The union used this law to justify working a bunch of young guys and only paying room and board. I worked at the union hall in New Orleans and then got transferred to the Union Office in Houston. I had been working in the Houston office for about a month when one day, in walks Ken Godshal. He had entered the same program a few weeks before me in Mobile, and had traveled to Houston to board his first assignment. I was working , so we only talked for a few minutes. It wasn't until later that day that I realized what a coincidence it was that we had both gotten into Seafaring.
A few weeks later I got my first assignment on a ship going to Africa.
The ship made several stops in Africa unloading a bunch of new school busses and Wheat. The ship was returning to New Orleans where it was to reload and depart for an extended cruise to South America. I planned to stay aboard for the next cruse.
Upon arriving at New Orleans, I was informed that I could not continue because I had received a Draft Notice and had to report to Houston Draft Office. This was the Summer of 1965 and the Vietnam was ramping up and all loose young men were being gathered up. I had lost my student deferment, so I was a prime candidate.
After passing the physical, I decided to sign up for the Navy on a four year hitch. I was guaranteed training in the communications school in San Diego. I also would attend boot camp there.


I finished boot camp and then continued with 26 weeks training at the Radiomen's school in San Diego.
I finished Radio School and had to wait for my security clearance to be completed.
On a Sunday evening, I was returning to the base from a weekend with my relatives in Los Angeles. I was riding the city bus and as I entered, I notice there was a bunch of "boots" returning from their first day out after Boot Camp. They were easy to pick out with their short haircuts and new uniforms. All of a sudden , one of the "boots" walked up to me and said, "Don't I know you?" . I looked up and he did look familiar. I was trying to remember and then he said, "I'm Ken Godshal... we were at UT together".
I was blown away. Another coincidence that we had both joined the Navy.
We talked a little, but the bus arrived at the base, and he only had 10 minutes before he had to check back into the barracks.
I never saw him again while I was in the Navy and from time to time wondered where he had ended up. I didn't remember his home town, so I didn't have a clue as to how I could find him.
Twenty years past and one weekend I was visiting my Mother and she suggested I clean out the remaining items I still had in my old room.
I got a trash bag and started going through the chest of drawers that had been mine, tossing most of the contents away. In the bottom there was a cigar box with various pieces of paper and an old wallet. Before throwing the wallet away, I looked in side and found a small slip of folded paper. The paper had the address for Ken Godshal. He had lived in Mobile Alabama.
The next week I called information for Mobile Alabama, but there were no Godshal's listed. I decided to send a letter to the address and see what happened. Several months passed before I got a response. I was informed that the Godshal's no longer lived there and the writer thought they might have moved to New Orleans. I called information for New Orleans and there was one Godshal listed. I called the number and talked with Ken's father. He told me that Ken was married and that he and his wife had lived and worked all over the world. Currently they were living in Baton Rouge. After I explained who I was, he gave me Ken's phone number. I called several times over the next few days before I got an answer.. Ken answered and I told him who I was... he didn't remember me. I then recounted how our lives had crossed at school, in the Seafarers Union and then in the Navy. He laugh and said that I knew more about his life then he did, but he could not remember me. He and his wife had never "settled down" . They had worked as teachers all over the world, drifting from place to place every few years. He was currently working as a pressman at a printing company.
I told him what I was doing and he commented that it looked like I was settled down and that I was lucky. It was obvious from our conversation that he was still searching.
Our paths never crossed again.

©2011