Marching To The Addams Family Theme Song

PFC Klinkenberg was my platoon leader when I was at the United States Army Aviation School.  He would march us from our barracks to the school, and he was noted for being creative with cadence counts.

Instead of the tried-and-true "Give me your left, your left, your left-right-left!", he had us sing the Addams Family theme song while we marched, complete with finger snaps.

One day, PFC Klinkenberg announced that his brother had been killed in Vietnam.  When I watched him pack his duffel bag, I thought he was leaving to go to the funeral --- but he was actually leaving the Army.

PFC Klinkenberg was leaving the Army because he was a Sole Surviving Son.  I did not fully understand that concept until 40 years later, when I visited Waterloo, Iowa.

I walked into the Iowa Veterans Museum in Waterloo, and right in front of me was a full-size replica of the prow of a US Navy cruiser, painted in camoflage colors and busting through the wall of the lobby. 

It was a copy of the prow of the USS Juneau, sunk in the Pacific in 1942.  On board were George Sullivan, Frank Sullivan, Joe Sullivan, Matt Sullivan, and Al Sullivan.  They were brothers; they were from Waterloo; none of them survived the sinking.

I walked past the prow and into the museum, dedicated to Iowa veterans from the Civil War to the present.  I liked the museum: it was not too big and not too small.

The Vietnam section reverberated with me: they had a UH-1 helicopter on display.  It was not a shiny UH-1 --- it was worn and even had bird droppings on it, making it feel real.  I spent a lot of time staring at the helicopter; the United States Army Aviation School had trained me to repair this type of helicopter, but fate had kept me away from helicopters and away from Vietnam.

The Civil War exhibit also reverberated.  

Over half the male population of Iowa was in uniform, which meant that women had to run farms and raise families by themselves during the Civil War.   

The story was told through the eyes of a little farm boy whose father was away at war.  At sundown his mother went out to round up the grazing cows and bring them back to the barn.  I felt the boy's anguish as he described standing at the window of an upstairs bedroom and watching his mother go out in search of the cows.  He would continue standing at the window, transfixed by fear, hoping that his mother would come back.

I walked through the displays for World War One and World War Two.  I noticed a subtle hint in the displays: Iowans were called upon in difficult battle situations.  If there was an impregnable enemy machine gun nest, the military would call upon Iowans to attack and wipe it out.

I wondered if it was because the military thought Iowans were tough fighters – or if the military thought that Iowans were expendable…

My walk through the museum ended on the second floor.  Walking past a sculpture of all five Sullivan brothers, I stepped out onto on the full-size replica of the prow of the Navy cruiser and gazed into the lobby below.

I realized that the five Sullivan brothers from Waterloo had cast a long shadow. 

After World War Two, the military did not station siblings together.  After World War Two, if a family lost a child in a war, the family would not lose another child in that war.  

That is why the Army made sure that PFC Klinkenberg was out of harm’s way and sent him home for good. 

We continued to march from our barracks to the United States Army Aviation School, and, fortunately, our new platoon leader had us sing the Addams Family theme song while we marched.

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A 5-minute video tour of the museums in Waterloo:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCDJ32LuNmk

The lyrics to the Addams Family theme song (1.5 minutes) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIJoTEliQcU

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

The Kid Who Could Identify A Kaiser

When I found out about the Missouri Veterans History Project, I called up and got an appointment to be interviewed.  I was eager to share my story because the interview will wind up in the Library of Congress.

It would be the story of my time in the US military - back in the days when we had two armies: the United States Army and the Army of the United States.  I was in the latter.

It took three people to interview me: one to run the camera, one to take notes, and one to ask me questions from a script.  I sat down, faced the camera, all eager to talk about my time at Fort Jackson in South Carolina, Fort Rucker in Alabama, and Fort Lewis in Washington State.

But I was unprepared for the first bunch of questions: 

THEIR QUESTION: Where did I go to elementary school?

I was puzzled because I did not see what this had to do with my military service.  Plus it was an embarrassing question because I had been shuffled around to five different schools between kindergarten and 3rd grade. I did not want to admit that the Board of Education treated me like a displaced person.

MY ANSWER: I went to a bunch of different elementary schools.

THEIR QUESTION: What were my favorite childhood activities and sports?

Now I was very puzzled because the people doing the interview were about my age.  Didn't they know that kids in the 1940's did not have activities and did not have sports?

Back in the 1940's, kids did not go to gymnastics class or take karate lessons or play in soccer leagues.  Kids simply walked out the door and joined in with whatever their friends were doing.  It could be blackberry picking, figuring out how to make bubbles with chewing gum, riding scooters, playing two-hand touch, throwing dirt bombs in mock battles, or, my favorite, following our local stream deep into the woods, where there was lots of skunk cabbage and jack-in-the-pulpits.  These were not activities; these were ways to spend time.

MY ANSWER: I hung out with the kids in my neighborhood.

THEIR QUESTION: What was my biggest accomplishment as a child?

Now I was really puzzled.  I had never looked back on my childhood as having accomplishments. So, I thought about how I had impressed my father.

Our house overlooked New York State Route 25A, the major east-west road on the North Shore of Long Island.  It was a busy road.  I would sit on our steps and identify the different makes of the cars that drove by at the breakneck speed of 35 MPH.  

It was a childhood form of bird watching.  Just like a bird-watcher, I was really thrilled when I spotted a rare specimen: a Kaiser or a Hudson or a Studebaker.  Or, best of all, a luxurious Packard with its grand hood ornament.  I was six years old, and my father bragged about me. 

MY ANSWER: My biggest accomplishment was being able to identify makes of cars at an early age.

I slowly understood the goal of the interview.  The Missouri Veterans History Project wanted a picture of what kind of person I was before I went into the Army.  They went on to ask me questions about my military service, but their goal was to show me as more than a soldier.

And I began to worry: when my interview winds up in the Library of Congress, will viewers focus on what I did as a soldier or will they focus on the fact that I could identify a Kaiser at the age of six?

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A 30 second You Tube promo for the Missouri Veterans History Project:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AnJ74F6klZU

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

I Am The World's Greatest Lion Tamer

I announced to four strangers that I am the world’s greatest lion tamer.  Then I added that I only use humane training methods with my lions.

I was taking a one-night class called How To Get What You Wish For.  The presenter, Barbara Sher, had broken us up into 5-person groups and asked us to tell a big lie about ourselves to the people in our group.

Barbara Sher based the class on her book Wishcraft.

I realized that my big lie about lion taming presented me in a good light.  I thought about the way my little lies present me in a good light: I tell people I am a little bit taller than I actually am and a few pounds lighter than I actually weigh.  The same way my exaggerations present me in a good light: I tell people that I graduated from Wat Po Medical School in Thailand, when what I really did was complete a two-week course there.

After everyone in the class had finished telling their big lies, Barbara Sher asked: “How well do you know the people in your group?”  The majority responded “Very well”.

Barbara responded:  “And all they did was lie to you.”

Lie-telling was an ice-breaker to warm up the class for the focal point of the class: how to get what you wish for.

How do you get what you wish for?  Just talk to some people and tell them what you wish for and then describe an obstacle that is in your way.  The typical American, when they hear someone’s obstacles, will instinctively start making suggestions on how to overcome them.

I know that this is true.

I was at a festival in Pilot Knob, Missouri, site of a Civil War Battle – a Union victory which kept St. Louis from falling into Confederate hands.

At the festival, someone said she would give me a tour of her church a few blocks away.  The hook: the church served as a hospital during the battle and had the bloodstains to prove it. 

During the tour of Immanuel Lutheran Church, which was built by Germans, I was told that the congregation numbered less than 20.  Because of their small size, the congregation wished they had the money for the upkeep of the church.

An obstacle!  My American mind sprang into action and I started making suggestions:

The church really did have blood stains where Civil War soldiers had died; so charge money for ghostly flashlight tours of the church after dark. 

The church had an antique organ; charge money for concerts. 

There was a church hall next door: play up the German heritage by painting a German saying on the front of the hall: “Froh beim Bier das lieben wir”, and put on money-making sausage-and-sauerkraut suppers.

Brilliant suggestions tumbled out of me; suggestions on how to get what the congregation wished for.  

However, I never did follow up to see if Immanuel Lutheran Church started giving flashlight tours or antique organ concerts.  

I do not know if they painted a German saying on their church hall.  If they did, it probably wasn’t the saying I suggested, because “Froh beim Bier, das lieben wir” translates into English as “Happy with the beer that we love so dear.”

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A one-minute YouTube video: an overview of the Battle of Pilot Knob, also known as the Battle of Fort Davidson:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmUk4loHvCw

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

The Dreaded Cellphone Moment

In 1975, a friend scolded me for taking 4 weeks to answer his letters.

I carefully explained to him: He lived in New York, and I lived in Sokoto, in the far northwest corner of Nigeria.  It took 2 weeks for a letter to get from New York to Sokoto.  If I answered his letter immediately, it would take 2 weeks for that letter to get to New York.  2 + 2 = 4.

Back then, a 4-week gap did not bother me; I did not feel out of reach.

In 2011, I took a guided tour of Alaska.  There were some Californians on the tour.  Wherever we went in Alaska, the Californians took out their cellphones to see if they could get reception.  They checked their cellphones when we were walking on glaciers, when we were kayaking in rivers, when we were trekking on mountains. 

They were in constant fear of the Dreaded Cellphone Moment: the moment when they could not get a cellphone signal.

Only once were the Californians unable to get a cellphone signal in Alaska, and it made them panicky…panicky because, without a cellphone signal, they were out of reach.

The Californians made me chuckle then, but I don't chuckle anymore because I took a trip to Des Moines in 2014, and used Google Maps on my cellphone to guide me there.

I drove to Des Moines to teach a Scottish Country Dance workshop, and the plan was for me to stay with two dancers: Sue and Gerry.  I got to Des Moines mid-afternoon and visited the Art Center: a delightful place where I snapped a bunch of photos with my cellphone. 

The Art Center was about to close, so it was time to log on to Gmail to find the message where Sue and Gerry had sent me their address.

Uh oh...my cellphone said “LOW BATTERY - 10%”, and the phone refused to do anything.  The GPS and the photos had taken their toll.

I told an Art Center security guard my sob story: I couldn’t read my email on my phone.

The security guard suggested that I could use an Art Center PC to log on to the Internet and read my email.  I told the Museum gift shop person my sob story, and she turned her PC on for me.  

I logged into Gmail, and Gmail became very perceptive.  Instead of displaying my email for me, Gmail told me that I had never logged on from this computer before.  For my own safety, they would send me a special security code.

I breathed a sigh of relief.  I was one step away from getting Sue and Gerry's address.

Gmail said they would send the special security code to my cellphone.

I now felt utterly helpless.

Then the security guard suggested that Sue and Gerry might have a landline phone. 

A landline phone?  How quaint!  Also, how lucky!  They did have a landline phone, and their address was listed in the Des Moines white pages. 

So, in 2014 I had to use 1975 technology to reach Sue and Gerry’s house.

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Being out of cellphone reach is now an integral part of every horror movie made by Hollywood.  Here is a 5-minute compendium of scenes where actors discover they have no cellphone service:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIZVcRccCx0

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Who's Afraid Of Uta Hagen?

I almost put the magazine down and shouted out: "Yes, Marlo, I was there!  I saw the same show you did!!"

Marlo was Marlo Thomas, the actress. The magazine had a "Best And Worst" feature (Worst Date, Best Friend For Life, etc.) and they had asked Marlo Thomas about the Best Stage Performance Ever.

Marlo's response: "I got to witness Uta Hagen play Martha in Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?  What she brought to the character was amazing - anger, competitiveness, sensuality, vulnerability.  That show taught me more about acting than any class ever could." 

I, too, saw Uta Hagen play Martha.

Martha and her husband George invite two guests to their home for cocktails, and proceed to put each other down in front of their guests.  Actually, they try to destroy each other.  A virtual marital demolition derby.

This was not at all like the plays I was used to seeing.  

I grew up in the innocent, in the Fifties.  I was used to heart-warming plays like The Fantasticks.  I was used to light-hearted plays like Fiorello!  Instead, Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? was brutal and raw.  I heard George and Martha say things like "screw you" and "hump the hostess" - words no actor had ever spoken on an American stage in the Fifties.

I was 19 years old when I saw Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf for the first time.  The script was published as a book, and I asked for a copy at Christmas.  I went back to see the play when I was 20.  Maybe, down in my subconscious, I was a fan of this play because it was a signal --- a signal that the world was about to change, a signal that The Sixties had begun in America.

Hollywood made a movie of Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?, with Mike Nichols directing Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor as George and Martha.  I thought it couldn't be too hard for these two people to portray a couple that was out to destroy each other.  

However, I did not see the Burton-Taylor movie until the end of The Sixties.  

I was in El Paso, Texas, and talked a friend into going to see the movie at a drive-in theater in the foothills of the city.  The movie was fine, but I became aware, with a jolt, that most of the people in the drive-in were not there to watch Burton and Taylor.  They had brought blankets and were hunkering down to spend the night in their cars at the drive-in.

Driving back toward El Paso that night, I thought about how we had just watched a movie amidst homeless people.  I thought about how the innocence of the Fifties was gone.  

In the Fifties, I knew only the part of the world that was within a 25 mile radius of my parents’ home.  In the Fifties, I was deeply concerned about what other people thought of me.  In the Fifties, I saw a narrow path ahead of me: if I do the right things, I will succeed.  

In the Sixties, I had served my country both in the Peace Corps and in the United States Army, and had seen a lot of new places.  I had become at peace with myself, no longer worrying about others’ opinions.  I saw a flexible path ahead of me: waiting for me to figure out how to navigate life.

For me, the Sixties started with Uta Hagen on stage, and ended with Elizabeth Taylor on screen.

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Here is a 5-and-a-half minute excerpt from opening scene in the original Broadway play.  Listen to Uta Hagen work her magic.

Give Me A Big Sloppy Kiss

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Find A Good Mother And Take Good Care Of It

When I moved to Sokoto, Nigeria in 1975, I had to choose between Mrs. Datta and Mrs. Kohli.  People told me that Mrs. Kohli was sweeter than Mrs. Datta.  However, I chose Mrs. Datta.

These two women were from India and they had yogurt mothers that they were willing to share.  I needed a yogurt mother to make my own yogurt, which turned out to be pretty easy in Sokoto.

Dairy products were hard to come by in the tropics.  There was one herd of dairy cows in all of Nigeria, and they lived on the central plateau under the careful eye of an Agricultural university.   They did not ship their cow's milk because milk spoils quickly in the tropics.

There were herds of camels all around Sokoto.  Camels were milked and the milk was turned into a form of cheese: solid white disks that were for sale in the market, but did not look at all hygienic to me.

So, almost all dairy products had to be imported.  Nigerians were fond of small cans of evaporated milk and condensed milk from Holland, which they used in their tea.  Another popular imported item was powdered milk, which Nigerians turned into baby formula.  

I needed powdered milk to make yogurt, and my favorite brand was KLIM. 

KLIM was produced in America; it was originally used by explorers; it was a staple in the rations of US soldiers fighting in the Pacific during World War II. But it was not my favorite brand because of its pedigree --- it was my favorite because KLIM is MILK spelled backwards, and I like things that spell backwards.  

(No wonder that my favorite Nigerian detergent is OMO, which spells its own name backwards.)

Once I got my yogurt mother from Mrs. Datta, I began to make yogurt on a regular basis.  I would add water to KLIM in an enamel bowl.  Sokoto had wonderful colored enamel bowls imported from Czechoslovakia.

I stirred the mother into the milk, put the lid on the bowl, and set the bowl out in my yard.  Sokoto is the hottest large city in Africa, so, the sun did the rest.  After one hour, I would bring the bowl into the house: there was a batch of yogurt inside, all properly cultured.

However, if I lost track of time, and fetched the bowl after two hours, there would be a batch of very thick yogurt inside, almost like cream cheese.

Chill the yogurt, and consume…making sure to set aside some as the mother so I could make another batch. 

But sometimes, I would lose track and eat all the yogurt in the fridge, including the mother.  So, I was back where I started from: I would have to choose between Mrs. Datta and Mrs. Kohli.

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The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is another country without dairy cows.  You can watch a one-minute video where KLIM tells Saudi women that they can realize their dreams – being a TV reporter, piloting a jet, climbing Mt. Everest – if they drink KLIM powdered milk.  (You can't realize your dreams without calcium.)  Saudi Women of Strength

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can find out more and purchase a copy at http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com

Resolutions 1-2-3 When Leaving The Army

Whenever I go to Gold's Gym, I am reminded of the day when I left the Army in 1970, in Tacoma, Washington.  On that day, I made resolutions 1-2-3:

RESOLUTION #1: No one will ever yell at me again.

RESOLUTION #2: I will never do a push-up again.

RESOLUTION #3: I will recognize when I am surrounded by happiness.

In the Army, being yelled at meant that I was being singled out.  Singled out because of some transgression and I needed to be humiliated in front of my fellow soldiers.  Gold's Gym has a cycling class and the instructor is constantly yelling "Pedal Faster".  I have never taken a cycling class because of Resolution #1 - I do not want to re-live being yelled at.

In the Army, push-ups are not exercise, they are punishment.  "Schneider, give me 10" means that because I had annoyed the sergeant, I had to drop to the ground and do 10 push-ups to appease him.  At Gold's Gym I take a barbell class, and the instructor wants us to do push-ups.  Because of Resolution #2, I only do pseudo push-ups, bouncing my head up and down while I am on my hands and knees.

In the Army, I made a discovery: I discovered that before I was in the Army, I was surrounded by happiness and did not realize it.  Resolution #3 is subtle; it means that I should find joy in having choice and control.

Before I was in the Army, I could choose what clothes to wear.  I could choose when to turn off the light at night.  I had a wide variety of friends.  I could walk to a refrigerator and get a cool drink.  I could sleep all night long.  I could close the door when I used a bathroom.

Not so in the Army: the Department of Defense told me what to wear and even told me when to switch from winter uniform to summer uniform - an event that happened simultaneously across the country, putting me in a summer uniform well before warm weather reached Tacoma, Washington.  My commanding officer determined when the barracks lights get turned off at night.  By default, I was surrounded almost entirely by men all about the same age I was.  There was no refrigerator in the barracks, just a water fountain.  Many nights my sleep was interrupted by walking an hour of guard duty.  There was no such thing as privacy in an Army bathroom.

The Army made my choices for me; the Army controlled my life.

At Gold's Gym, in the barbell class, I have choice - I pick what weight to put on my barbell.  I have control - I can modify the exercises if I do not like what the instructor is doing.

Resolution #3 tells me to recognize that I now have choice, I now have control, and I now have the freedom to have my hair cut any way I wish.  And that is happiness.

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2-minute YouTube video on how to avoid being yelled at by a Drill Sergeant: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3QQp8rb_uHY

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  You can purchase a copy at  http://www.puppyoutofbreath.com