"An Old Aviator's Story!"

 

Long ago in a Southern California pasture amongst the wafting odors of dairy farms was the mixture of oil, hydraulic fluid and aviation fuel emanating above the runway of the Chino Air Museum. It is now known as the Planes Of Fame Air Museum, https://planesoffame.org/ .

I was a member there for many years and for many years when vintage aircraft would take off and fly away from the viewing stands and were lost from view in the heavy smog and fog.

Every first Saturday of the month, the museum would host a speaker and take up into the sky, in one of those museum pieces.

A few days ago, antique collector and admitted hoarder, Phil Bazer, showed me a few WWII aviation shoulder patches he had for years in his possession. All three were from the AVG, of the Flying Tigers days.

Louisiana boy, Claire L. Chennault, was a retired captain from the Army Air Corps who was working in China as an advisor to the Chinese Air Force when the Second Sino-Japanese War broke out in 1937. The Chinese Generalissimo Chiang Kai-Shek quickly hired Chennault to lead the training of Chinese fighter pilots.

The little winged tiger took me back to the Chino Air Museum where a small, white haired man was selling his days, in book form, with the American Volunteer Group circa 1941-42. In his hour long dissertation, two things stood out. One of those was the statement that he was shot down three different times and the fear he had of bailing out each time. Describing the feel of bullets bouncing inside the fuselage as he hid behind the armor plated seat trying to escape, was incredible.

"Flying high enough to bail out was all I could think about. There really was no other alternative," he said. "I was amazed that each time I returned safe and sound, the government gave me another plane to fly!"

The second comment was the best. According to him and documented in his bio, he was the original designer of the shark mouth on one of the P-40B Tomahawk's nose.

"Everyone loved it, but I wasn't interested in painting each and every aircraft of the AVG," he said. Not realizing the symbol would become so iconoclastic, even on aircraft that was not a P-40, he gave the design to other pilots to complete. Whoa!

Somewhere on one of my bookshelves in this studio is my autographed copy of his book... Somewhere!

First cup and then, sketching with the Lacombe Art Guild at Giddy Up!

Copyright 3025/Ben Bensen III

"Don't Touch That Dial", y'all.

 Usually on Saturday mornings at the coffeehouse, the younger baristas man the counter and the drive-up window. Mary, the "don't call me a barista!" barista, usually opens the place just before seven. Mario, the only male that has ever worked at GiddyUp follows shortly after and turns on the radio on Sirius to a rather "alternative" scene. It's not head bashing or heavy metal grooves, but for drinking coffee and trying to ease into the morning, it is a bit... odd!

Between 8am and 9am, the girls stroll in, and I can tell by what's on the radio by who has control of those "dials!"

The older ladies prefer the Fifties and Sixties. In that rotation is always Etta James, "A Sunday Kinda Love" even though it is Saturday. You know, Frankie Baby, Peggy Lee, Johnny Mathis, Sara Vaughn, etc.

Laura, who only now works on Saturday afternoons, always played the Beatles catalogue with a few Beach Boy tunes thrown in. I love it!

Madison, who is an early morning staple, doesn't really have a particular favorite though I can tell when she changes the channel. By her own admission, she likes music that one can "study by!"

Mary says, "Maddie, play some music, but nothing "too sleepy!"

When Isabella, the woman who had a radio program called "Girls Up Front!" arrives, suddenly, there's this ethereal, celestial, sounds, heavy with breathy reverb that, in a way, seems too perfect for this world!

Everyone is copacetic with the choices of the morning until someone goes on break...

"Quick, Mario's away, change the channel!"

No one 'cept Sandra and Mary understood my reference to the living room battles created when someone got up to change the TV channel only to lose their favorite chair in the process.

Ah, the good ole days!

Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

"Piddily Pat!"

"Heartbeat, why do you skip when my baby kisses me?"

 Well, Good Saturday Morning, all bodies.

On Thursday, a cute, young nurse whose struggling with expectations of being a "baseball mom", pulled away the bandages and cleaned the area that now house my new timing device. We had fun sharing baseball stories with her.

One week earlier, I was also being entertained, at five in the morning, by another young nurse who was prepping me for my pacemaker. She was short, with long brown hair, intense eyes and a rather unique accent that Tee or I could not quite place, though she was a native of Louisiana.

It had a touch of Texas, I think!

Anyway, she's pulling away wrapping, wiping here and there with some alcohol solution, stripping away more plastic coverings to more pads, bandaids and such and depositing the many sterile debris in the first accessible place available...my crotch!

Intense in her endeavors, I try to ignore the loose fitting gown's depository that she keeps adding more stuff too.

"How many times a day do you have to go through this prepping routine," I ask.

Not missing a beat, she replies,"Oh, about ten times a day...You're the first this morning!"

"All before a "first cup"?

"Yes," she says, I have to be here early to prepare myself for the day!"

"Whoa" I said. I didn't have time for a cup either."

"Guess I'm not supposed to anyway!"

Then, her job completed, she grabs all the medical debris housed in that gown's depression and kinda stirs it all around with her hands attempting to grab it all in one fell swoop.

Oh, I thought, I think I'm in love! But, all too soon she is gone before I could express my real feelings.

Guess there was no time for "thank you's" as another nurse, probably the senior head nurse, arrived to stick some more needles in my arm.

She stuck around long enough for me to thank her!

When that nurse left, the younger one reappeared with a battery powered shaver. Thankfully, it automatically shuts off when the trigger is released and she gently places the device in you know where!

Therese and I had a few chuckles over those early morning scenarios.

"Babe, it's a good thing that I didn't have a first cup OR have time to apply my daily dose of testosterone, whew!"

Every now and then, I know it's kinda hard to tell, but I'm still alive and well...Second cup

Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

Therese's Brother... Living Large!

Therese's Priestly Bro!

Very sorry to report that Therese's big brother and Redemptorist priest, Fr. Gerard LaPorte, passed away on Friday, last week. Gerard was 85 years old and spent his last year at St. Clements, 300 Liguori Dr, Barnhart, MO which is not far from St. Louis.

Last September, in addition to revisiting St. Louis for more stem cell injections, we got to spend a few days with Gerard at the Mission. He seemed to enjoy his new home and the time spent with other retired Redemptorist clergy. Gerard was always a people person. He will be missed by the many folks he met and served over the years in the Irish Channel, as well as, Tee and me!

Gerard Bernard LaPorte was born in New Orleans, LA, on January 28, 1939. He and his siblings grew up around the Redemptorists at St. Alphonsus Parish, and their uncle, Alphonse Abadie, was ordained as a Redemptorist priest in 1942. After graduating from St. Alphonsus School, young Gerard entered St. Joseph’s Preparatory Seminary in Kirkwood, MO. An exceptional student with natural leadership skills, he was quite popular and a source of entertainment for his classmates, who enjoyed his wit and antics. He proceeded to novitiate at Mount St. Clement’s in DeSoto, MO and professed temporary vows on August 2, 1960. Gerry professed perpetual vows on September 2, 1963 and was ordained to the priesthood by Bishop Thomas William Murphy, C.Ss.R., D.D. at Immaculate Conception Seminary Chapel on June 29, 1965.

He had many accomplishments and assignments during his years as a Redemporist. He studied in Rome for a master’s degree in Canon Law at the Angelicum. He returned to the United States with his degree in 1968 and was appointed to the faculty of Mount St. Alphonsus Redemptorist Theologate in Esopus, NY. In addition to Canon Law, he served in the Liturgy and Comparative Religion Departments and was Director of The Collarmen Seminarian music ministry outreach. Fr. Gerry was named assistant pastor of Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church in Corpus Christi, TX, in 1972. He enjoyed pastoral ministry, and was instrumental in helping the Diocese of Corpus Christi reorganize its Matrimonial Tribunal. Three years later, he was appointed pastor of Holy Rosary Church and superior of the local community in Houma, LA. During the next six years, he helped the Diocese of Houma–Thibodaux organize a Marriage Preparation Program and served as a Matrimonial Tribunal Judge and as a member of the Arbitration Board.

Fr. Gerry was so respected by his confreres that they elected him to serve as a Consultor on the Vice Provincial Council in 1981. While serving in leadership during the next six years, he was involved in ministry planning and served as local community superior, Vocation Director and Bursar for the Vice Province of New Orleans. He served as rector and director of Holy Redeemer in Lacombe, LA during the 1986-1987 school term, and then returned to parish ministry at St. Alphonsus Parish in New Orleans, where he remained for the next 35 years. Fr. Gerry was involved in many outreach ministries serving people in need, including Beginning Experience and Caring Companions. He served on the Matrimonial Tribunal and as an Appellate Judge for the Archdiocese of New Orleans, and as a Chaplain for PEACE (Eucharistic Adoration Chapels). He volunteered for the Family Life Apostolate and earned a Master’s in Education in Counseling from the University of New Orleans in 1994, at the age of 55.

Fr. Gerry was an animating presence in the St. Alphonsus community and is remembered for reading the Times-Picayune cover-to-cover every morning and watching Jeopardy every afternoon. It was no surprise that he correctly answered most of the questions asked of contestants. He loved everything about his hometown, and was such an avid fan of the New Orleans Saints that his doctor prohibited him from watching the games to help keep his blood pressure in check.

A compassionate confessor and spiritual director, Fr. Gerry was an insightful counselor for all who sought his wisdom. Although Fr. Gerry was granted retirement status in 2009, he continued to celebrate Masses at nearby nursing homes and preside at funerals for the faithful in New Orleans until health issues necessitated his move to St. Clement’s Redemptorist Mission Community in Barnhart, MO, in 2022.

Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

"Capturing The Moment"...

 Good Morning Wednesday, y'all.

Yesterday morning driving out of 'da Bayou, I paused to put on my seatbelt and to my amazement discovered a blue heron skulking around the shallow part of the front pond. We seldom get visits from waterfowl, ducks, herons and egrets and every time we do, I am unprepared to record the visit. I just knew by the time I got iPhone out to photograph the bird, it would be disturbed and fly away.

But, not this time. The heron was obviously stalking prey, and just like seen on "Wild Kingdom", it finally flung its beak into the pond and pulled out a small fish. It gave the fish a shake or two and in short time, swallowed breakfast, spread its wings and glided on to the next tasty endeavor.

The camera never left my front pocket.

Working on my second cup at Giddy Up, a woman unloads her briefcase full of papers, her cellphone and computer directly across and facing me. We couldn't help not seeing one another, stealing glances from each other as we went about our business.

I noticed one of those glances as particularly intriguing, and then I could not stop looking at her. She kept flinging her long black hair as she spoke on the phone and then, flung it away again and again switching from one device to another.

But, one full fledged fling tilted her head to the right which elongated the length of those ebony locks, rather seductively over her shoulder and down toward the black covered computer.

For whatever reason, she held that pose for a minute or two. I decided it was time to pull out my iPhone just in case she did that one or two more times. I lost my chance with the big heron, I wasn't gonna miss another chance to capture the moment... I was visually seduced.

But, she never did!

Ten minutes after she picked up her mobile office, she acknowledged me with a smile, nodded and left, I decided to capture the moment as fleeting and futile as it seemed.

Inspiration is like that. A charcoal stick was messy, but the perfect tool for the task... that, and, a kneaded eraser.

Still hoping for another cup!

Copyright 2024/BenBensenIII

" I Know, I Know, It All Is Completely Baseless!"

It's based in truth...

 Good "wacky" Wednesday Morning, y'all.

Well, here I sit, directly across from the bathroom wall wondering if, indeed, I have to once again, clean the baseboards from the lint, hair, and dust.

I know, I know, you laugh, but in most homes where carpet floors meet the walls, there is some kind of baseboard moulding. Some are quite simple and some are quite "fancy-dancy!"

The "fancy-dancy" ones are the hardest to keep clean.

In most of the house, carpets can hide the overall hairiness and dust making it easier to clean when one vacuums, but not so in the bathrooms. That's where most floors are covered with linoleum which easily show their dismay and lack of attention.

And, the tiny spiders love that!

I notice these things because I do more than just read my constitutional rights three or four times a day. I sit and stare, directly across from the wall and the baseboard, and sometimes think about a good friend who has since passed away.

He was a big, burly Irishman that I knew from high school. In our football days, he was fast, and slim and powerful and could easily take on two offensive tackles, throw them aside and make the tackle. He made me look good at the linebacker position. That was then...

Divorced, a bit overweight, and still Irish, and in his sixties, he was preparing to retire in a year or two. As far back as I can remember, he and another employee at the electric company, carpooled to work into New Orleans. Though they spent most of their time working away from each other on the road, much of their after work hours were spent with friends at bars and restaurants.

But, his good work buddy had another life... he was married, and quite happily so.

On the weekends, when Pat, the high school buddy, had no plans, no date and got lonely, he always tried to recruit Cliff to join him in some form of frolic, or another. But Cliff, the family man, better known to most as "Weenie", a moniker given to him by Pat, would on occasion, graciously join us all at the local restaurant for breakfast and then, try to excuse his way back home.

Some of those excuses, as one would guess were pretty lame, but the one that always brings chuckle to my heart was Pat grilling poor Weenie..."C'mon man, what'cha gonna do, give me that excuse about cleaning your baseboards again?"

Oh, that Pat. He certainly had an effect on everyone, including me. Every now and then, I find I have to give them boards a second look!

Coffee and then, another doctor's appointment!

Copyright 2024/ Ben Bensen III

"No, Not That Kinda Hey... HAY!"

 

Good "Monday Again" Monday Morning, all bodies!

See, you have to understand some people here in Folsom come from a different stock with their own special priorities. For example, we are in the middle of a highly sophisticated topic about automobile oil filter sumps when a friend's eyes set long and hard on a pickup truck that passed by the window of the coffeehouse.

"With her eyes all a twitter, she jumps up out of her chair and yells, "Hay!"

Now, being a city boy who is still trying to find my place in this here town, I answer,"WHAT?"

"No, Barbara says as she points to the window. Not that kinda hey... HAY!"

Her enthusiasm puts a halt to the conversation as everyone watches her run to the window.

"It's hay... two bundles of the good kind of hay sitting in the back of that truck. I wonder where he got it,” she asked hoping that the owner was gonna stop by for a cup of coffee.

Unfortunately, he did not making a right turn at the corner and off into the distance.

With a giggle, I asked her, "Do you always get so worked up about... um, HAY?"

"I do when it's the good brand of hay. You can't get that kind of quality here in Louisiana."

As she continued to explain the differences in hay to anyone who'd listen, I couldn't help but be impressed by Barbara's ability to see and discern one brand of hay from another, and even from the back of a pickup just passing through. Gotta love it though!

• Copyright 2024/Ben Bensen III

"I Thought, Is It Too Early To Thank Old Saint Nick?"

 

 

Good Thanksgiving Thursday Morning, all bodies.

In the afternoon two days before today, I walked into Folsom's "The Donut Stop" to assure myself that there would be enough chocolate covered Bavarian creme donuts and apple fritters. The young woman at the counter, let's just call her Darcy, assured me that there would be but that they'd be closing at 1pm the day before Thanksgiving.

She asked me if I wanted to to secure my order and I told her that I didn't think that that would be necessary though in the back of my mind, I knew better. The Donut Stop's apple fritters are legendary.

Well, I should have placed an order, and then again, Darcy might have mistook my indecision and did it anyway!

It's been our Macy's Morning tradition even in California, to order danish and bearclaws and serve it with a big bowl of fruit. I can't find bearclaws that I like on the Northshore, so apple fritters fill the void... So to speak!

So yesterday around 10am, I saunter into the bakery to find no apple fritters on the shelf, or in the back, baking..AACK!

The woman who knows me from my frequent visits over the years, apologized and said that they were holding in a box, two apple fritters and two chocolate covered Bavarian creme donuts for pickup sometime today... for someone!

"Aw jeez, my wife told me that I should've placed an order," I said.

Therese who was with me was a bit disinterested because she spotted on the shelf plenty of chocolate covered Bavarian creme donuts.

So the manager, sporting a camo baseball cap, and wearing a long black apron that covered his camouflaged ensemble, seemed to be biding his time till 1pm. He came to the counter to see what was the problem.

After telling my tale hoping that Darcy mistook my non-order as an actual order, I awaited the manager's decision. The older woman told the manager that they were saving the order, but that there was no name written on the order.

I could tell by the sympathetic look on her face that she was pleading the case in defense of the entire staff as well as my traditional Macy's parade need.

The manager put his large hands across his salt and pepper gray beard and scrubbed it in thought.

"So, we don't know who actually made the order," right?

The older woman handling the drive up window, nodded.

"And it is the exact same order this man is looking for, right?"

"That's right," she said.

I could tell as he continued rubbing his beard that he was thinking about that "bird in an hand" stuff...

"Well then, let these folks have it!"

"That'll be $ 8.53 with tax," he said, confident in the finality of his decision.

I thought, is it too early to thank Old Saint Nick?

First home brewed with fritters!

Oh yeh, c... y'all.

Copyright 2023/Ben Bensen III

 

" Don't Look At Me,"

 

"Don't Do Like They Used To!"

Good " Don't Look At Me," Sunday Morning, all bodies.

Last night, after that LSU debacle, we settled in on a baseball game. I sensed that Tee didn't want me to return to the studio after dinner. All through the baseball game, our dawg was stalking Therese's left over potatoes.

He was told, way too many times, to go sit, but his "MO" is to wait a few minutes and jump off the sofa pretending to be thirsty. He'll take a perfunctory sip at his water bowl and then, as if no one is watching, plop himself at Tee's feet just under the table that holds the potatoes. I casually point to the sofa and he acquiesces, but five minutes later, he's thirsty again.

It reminded me of the game I played pitting wits between my mother and Pierre.

"Mom, don't feed the dawg," I'd say.

"I'm not!"

Naturally, the discussion has to end there otherwise we'd have a yell fest, which wouldn't help anyone's digestion! Even though mom knows I know she does feed the mutt, she tells me she doesn't. Pierre circles the table like a shark waiting for his chance to attack.

"Pierre, go away," I'd yell.

He uses his patented "thirsty pup routine" and then, moves in for the umpteenth time. In the corner of my eye, I see my mother lean over to stealthily drop the dog another tidbit, saying...

"Don't look at me, Murgatroyd! Benny told me not to feed you!

Mom always referred to that moniker with disdain, or when she couldn't remember a person's name.

Ah... such memories!

Finally, after the ballgame is over, Therese gets up and returns her plate, with the uneaten potatoes, to the kitchen counter. Taking his chances that I'll yell at him again, he slips off the sofa and follows Therese's every step. Then, he puts on the cocker spaniel charm and looks up to her longingly.

From across the room, Tee looks at me with a smirk and says to the dawg...

"Don't look at me, Pierre, Benny told me not to feed you!"

First cup...

Copyright 2023/Ben Bensen III

"A Family Of Cardinals Started The Proceedings Of Excommunication!"

 Good Monday Morning, y’all.

The bluejays are full of scorn. The female titmice flashed me in disgust. The woodpeckers pounded a tree and screamed their disapproval. The chickadees chattered, “yeh, you rite,” and shot me the bird while a family of cardinals started the proceedings of excommunication. The hummers just hummed.

I apologized profusely and tried to explain that it wasn’t my fault. It was Perky Pet!

That’s right. After rebuilding and rebuilding while searching for years to replace the original Cathedral Feeder with a new one, my wife actually found one.

That first feeder lasted, with some help, about ten or twelve years. I cajoled, chastised and even caressed that feeder. At one point, I believe that I totally rebuilt every aspect of that feeder using bleach, glue, gesso, varnish, finishing nails, and one ply plywood. I attached it to a stand that was originally belonged to a bluebird feeder until I accidentally backed into it with my lawn tractor.

Sadly, this new Perky Pet Feeder is slowly falling apart like a French cathedral. It is barely two years old. Damn those Chinese! Let’s make America Great Again by first designing and building a better bird feeder!

Of course, I was smart because I bought two more of the famous feeder, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna give those birds the satisfaction of a new place to worship even if it is easier to just replace it. They are just gonna have to go out and, and eat worms… or something.

I wonder if there are any “building code” violations to poorly built bird feeders that I can pursue?

Copyright 2023/Ben Bensen III