Thursday, December 29, 2005

Leaving Nebraska, and Home (updated 7/24)



I have always considered high school to be the low point in my life.  Back then, I felt out-of-sync with some of the popular attitudes, a bit uncomfortable, and consequently I remained uninvolved.  I was also dissatisfied with myself; knew I was capable of better effort but lacked the confidence to set my own course.  Instead, I simply followed along on the expectations of others.  It was my loss.  

While a junior in high school, I joined the US Navy Reserves, and Navy basic training at Great Lakes was completed while still at Benson High.  However, when graduating from HS, I was awarded both Regents and Engineering four-year scholarships from Nebraska University which could easily pay for my degree, so I enrolled there that autumn instead of entering active duty.  I pledged a fraternity, hoping to learn how to be “one of the guys”, but when offered active status, I declined, never gaining a sense of brotherhood.

The path ahead, if I stayed at NU, seemed clear, but I questioned whether it was the right one.  I was continuing to follow the 'path of least resistance' facilitated by familiar surroundings. Starting at age 5, I had spent every year thus far sitting in a classroom; it was starting to feel like confinement.... isolation from a much larger world awaiting.  An introductory reading of “Atlas Shrugged” encouraged a different path for me.  The author, Ayn Rand, emphasized that following your own values and ambition are more important than heeding others’ advice and expectations. Her writing was the 'final straw' convincing me that the security of those familiar surroundings wasn’t worth putting aside dreams.  We each have our own path to follow; I needed to find mine.

 Life at that age has a sense of immediacy; current choices channel future directions, and not all we need to learn is in textbooks. It was time to break away from the expected. The second year at Nebraska U. was awkward; trying to stay focused on classes while initiating withdrawal; an increasing sense of detachment with a weak explanation of future plans.  Giving up those scholarships.  Switching from campus NROTC back to an enlisted Reserve unit.  Disappointing my parents.  Stop seeing a sincere young woman.  Recognizing I was an immature fool with nebulous intentions toward yet-to be-known opportunities elsewhere, I looked forward to facing challenges by myself in a new environment.  Time to leave the nest.
  
 Active-Duty orders arrived for navigation school in San Diego. It was liberating to be completely on my own in this new situation. No preconceptions or expectations to satisfy. I vowed no daydreams, distractions or excuses from myself.  It would be a future of full commitment to my own choices. Dreams become achievable goals by recognizing and pursuing the many small steps leading from one to the other.  A start was to focus on my navigation class, competing against others already with service in the fleet, and do my very best.

Early in the navigation course, I overheard a fellow student, sent from an aircraft carrier to further his skills, tell his friends that he was here to beat the previous record score for the course and graduate #1.  I did not enter into the conversation, but thought to myself, "He does not know that I am going to be his competition."  No longer was I going to try to be "one of the guys" in life.  My goal now was to find out what I was capable of.  I graduated #1 with that new record score.  I have no idea where he scored.

It wasn't about competing with others; it was about doing my best.  I wanted to initiate a new approach to life by seeking challenges, choosing my path, and then fully committing to my best effort.  No more mediocre efforts, no easy courses, time to see what I could achieve.  (Later, at UC Santa Barbara, I always chose my elective courses (economics, finance, political science, English) from the upper division or accelerated courses.  Knowledge was the goal, grades are secondary.)   

 At one point we were anchored on a tributary, Song Soi Rap, in the Delta with a US Army artillery fire support base on the adjacent shore.  The base was located at what had once been a French fort.  In the distance we could see USAF planes dropping napalm.  At night, you could watch the streams of tracers from overhead AC-130's equipped with Gatling-type mini-guns.

 We were the "mother" repair ship for all the heavily armored Riverine landing craft and worked in coordination with the US Army 9th division.

Docked in San Francisco Bay, I was assigned to the first green ship in the history of the US Navy, the USS Askari, ARL-30. It was painted green because we were headed to the Mekong Delta of Vietnam. After crossing the Pacific, for the next year we were in the Delta servicing the Riverine Forces and constantly shifting anchorages to avoid targeting. (Askari was hit by enemy fire during the Tet offensive, but I was gone by then.) Signal watches, security watches (using a starlight scope) and navigation chores meant long hours on the ship's bridge deck.  It also allowed me time to study the onboard selection of navigation texts.  Periodically we would resupply at Vung Tau and have a chance to enjoy the nearby beaches.  During that year I was promoted twice to become a supervising petty officer (E-5).


The highlight of the year was a week of R&R in Japan where we enjoyed amazing hospitality:  My friend Carl & I were invited by Japanese college students to share their beer at a late-night party on Hayama Beach; we went water skiing and to a music festival; I met a pretty girl, Tamea, at a dance who invited us, with her female friend, for a scenic drive in their chauffeured vehicle.  She introduced me to her Buddhist family (who had reserved one floor of the hotel there).  Carl & I spent the next day with the girls and invited them for dinner.  Tamea and I stayed in contact, and, when passing through Japan at the end of my first Vietnam tour, we were entertained at their impressive Tokyo home, treated to meals at two of Tokyo’s finest restaurants, and provided a tour of downtown sights. (See developable-surface-boat-designs.blotspot.com/2015/10/ for more detail.)

 Main street, downtown Vung Tau, Vietnam.  At night, the bars were full until curfew time; then head for the hotels.  After curfew, Vietnamese military with submachine guns patrolled the streets.  Streets closer to the beach were nicer.  One day when I came ashore with no money (just going to the beach), a young girl selling fresh, carved pineapples handed me one, saying that I could pay her next time we met (and I did).  She and I had exchanged greetings on several occasions previously.  Very nice people.

US Army fire support base south of Saigon at Nha Be.

Most of the Delta is low lying and flat, but in sections the banks are covered with dense, towering, jungle-like forest.  Because sections were considered to be a free-fire zone, our ship was able to try out its 40mm quad gun mounts, and we watched the trunks of trees exploding as projectiles hit and tall trees toppled.  

 Myself (left) and my friend Carl (right) at Windy Beach.  Carl had originally enrolled at the US Naval Academy, Annapolis.  When he petitioned to withdraw, he was sent to Vietnam.  He later graduated from medical school in Morelia, Mexico, (where Dawn & I visited him) and became a physician.

 Rotated back to the States, the next assignment was a destroyer at Long Beach, USS Preston DD-795, readying for deployment, a return to Vietnam.  While becoming acquainted with new shipmates at Long Beach and spending weekends with friends living further north up the coast, I took some foolish risks and pushed my limits with a "live for today" attitude.  It culminated in my falling asleep, while driving alone late at night, and totaling my car as it rolled over and over.  Banged up shoulder, fluid in my lungs, broken glass in my hands, and a short LOC; but it could easily have been worse.  Seat belts work.  Back on the ship and again crossing the Pacific with refueling stops (Pearl Harbor, Midway, Guam, Subic Bay), we were assigned to coastal fire support and, alternately, guarding the aircraft carriers in the Gulf of Tonkin. At the end of my second year, we cruised to Sasebo, Japan, for ship maintenance. From there I was flown back to the States, released from active duty at Treasure Island, San Francisco, and immediately got on a bus to start classes at UC Santa Barbara.  My release was timed so that I arrived on campus one day prior to the start of my classes.

Although my parents were not happy about it, I had already started the process to become a resident of California and had been accepted at the University of California, Santa Barbara. The new location seemed like heaven. The campus is located on the beach in this resort area with mountains directly behind it. It had high academic standards in a laid-back atmosphere. I joined the rowing club (with girl's auxiliary); took a tennis class and a sailing class; and continued with engineering studies. Answering an ad "3 students need 4th to rent condo in Isla Vista" solved my housing situation and introduced me to new friends.  My transportation for the first four months, until granted CA resident tuition status, was an abandoned bicycle that I liberated and rehabilitated.  With savings, GI bill, some part-time jobs and summer engineering internships (Newport Beach '69, St. Paul, MN. '70), it was affordable.

One boundary of the UC Santa Barbara campus is the ocean.  If the tide was right, you could walk barefoot along the beach to your classes.  We went an entire year without using heat or A/C; the climate is so mild.

However, there was trouble in paradise. In 1969-70 the country was in turmoil, and it extended to our campus. Riots (including many outside instigators) were extensive enough that hundreds of police and National Guard troops were brought in. Buildings were torched, windows smashed, looting & rock throwing (two died). And I met my future wife. One night, many residents were on the roof deck of our apartment house watching the conflict in the streets below. Someone made a comment about the "pigs" roughing up the "students". A tall blonde spoke up, "Excuse me, but the rioters down there are destroying property, breaking the law. The police are simply enforcing laws and restoring order." Wow! I had to meet this girl! Someone with a brain of her own, unafraid to challenge group think. Someone, I learned, who would be a great partner in sharing this adventure we call life.

Dawn & I went barefoot on the beach, read magazines at the newsstand or library, shared homemade ice cream with friends, hiked the foothill trails, rented sailboats at Santa Barbara harbor, played backyard volleyball; and discovered we enjoyed many of the same things and values.  On one occasion, with two other couples, we laid out our sleeping bags on the open crest of the coastal mountain range and watched the sunset over the Pacific Ocean and the Channel Islands.  The next morning, as the sun arose, we watched Santa Barbara come to life again; airport operations taking place almost 3000' below us.  It was magical. This was the environment I was looking for when I left NU.  I later visited Dawn at her parent's home in Marin County, and she visited me at my summer 3M internship in Minnesota where we went canoeing and camping with another couple.

One of my favorite photos:  1970 Carmel, California, note, we were both barefoot.  Young, carefree, and in love with a lifetime of hopes and dreams ahead of us.

We built our own furniture in Portland after marrying in 1971.  It has to be simple when you only have a hammer, handsaw, and drill.


 Dawn and I married in a small ceremony (which we paid for) shortly after I had moved to Portland, Oregon and accepted a position in an engineering management training program. Although my degree (cum laude) was in engineering, I was looking at other avenues (I had already taken the GMAT for MBA admissions). The program sensitized me to management styles and convinced me to try to avoid a life of corporate politics. [Later I understood that such politics are universal.] Dawn & I left Oregon at the end of a year and traveled widely, coast to coast & Mexico to Canada, around the US for the next three months trying to decide where to start next.

Dawn on our Morgan 27 on San Francisco Bay.  When we decided that I would quit my engineering job and apply to dental school, selling this boat (3.5 tons empty) was a big problem and financial loss.  A lesson I have never forgotten.    

We ended up in the scenic wine country of northern California. This time I had a construction engineering job. We bought a 27' sailboat on SF Bay. I had dreamt of sailing around the world, with my navigation skills and an interest in new places, but ultimately realized how impractical it was: escapism versus facing career challenges.  Another beautiful location, but, at the end of a year, I was disgusted with the management of the company.  I was also disappointed with my opportunities as an engineer.  Dawn suggested I look at other options.  I quit; took pre-med courses at Sonoma State college and took a part-time job as an airline agent at the Sonoma County airport.

In retrospect, the early 1970's was a time when demand for engineers was at its lowest point since the 1930's.  In 1969, I had no trouble getting a summer internship in SoCal.  In 1970, I traveled to Minnesota for an internship, and when I arrived at 3M, they had no new engineering projects and little work for me to do.  When I graduated in '71, I was fortunate to be accepted for an opening in Oregon.  The companies which had openings for engineers generally were companies with high employee turnover due to adverse management policies.  I wasn't willing to wait until the job market improved.

 1974:  We made a vacation out of moving from California to Omaha.  This was taken near Crater Lake, Oregon.  We also visited the World's Fair in Spokane that year.

We were out camping.  Why shouldn't I smile?  I have the best wife/partner I could ever dream of.

Dawn picked my next career. I was considering either going for a PhD in engineering or to medical school because it seemed like a career path that offered more autonomy; however, Dawn, working in the medical field, saw the long hours and significant divorce rate of physicians.  She said, "Why don't you become a dentist?  They have more regular work hours as well as autonomy, and their divorce rate is lower." I was accepted at UC San Francisco dental school which was close by and offered in-state tuition, but it would have required us to live in a little downtown apartment in San Francisco for the next four years. Too much city.

I built my first boat during the summer of 1975 between classes at Creighton.  I also had a job, along with Eric Eggen, framing a home being rebuilt due to the recent major tornado. The wing of Bergan Mercy hospital where Dawn worked was destroyed by that same tornado, but she and other staff had retreated to the basement.  

Instead, we moved to Omaha where I attended Creighton dental school, and we were fortunate enough to be able to buy our own home in a beautiful neighborhood just north of Memorial Park.  It was our first home purchase, and we did a lot of remodeling.  I personally put a new roof on the house; we stripped the old wallpaper from the interior; I built a wardrobe for our master bedroom; we built a small brick patio at the back door; we resodded the front yard and planted a maple tree (which today is huge).  Our son was born while we lived there.  We would take a walk in Memorial Park every evening.  I built an insulated doghouse for the stray dog we adopted. (That dog, Daisy, was with us for the next 16 years.)  We still drive by that home on almost every visit to Omaha.  

While at Creighton, military recruiters came by seeking to sign up dentists. My initial reaction was that I had already been in the military, and it wasn't all that much fun. Dawn pointed out, "Being an officer in the medical field is not the same as being an enlisted man in Vietnam. This could be our chance to have dental training paid for, live/serve overseas for a few years to fulfill payback, and then set up a practice wherever we want." I applied and received a US Army Health Professions Scholarship. With dental training paid for (and Dawn's medical job), we were able to buy our home & a new car, have our son, and take vacations to Mexico and Hawaii.


 The nearest ski slope in Nebraska may be a cornfield.  We were visiting Eric Eggen at his farm location.
Christmas 1976 in Hawaii.  Dawn was pregnant with our son, Colin.

Upon graduation, I reported to Texas for basic officer training and then to Columbia, South Carolina, for a one-year internship to train us to function in all aspects of dentistry in remote locations without specialist support. It was a great professional experience, and we loved South Carolina. Our daughter was born there; our son took his first steps on the beach at Charleston. At completion, we were sent to the Atlantic coast of Panama, a jungle training base. Panama was an amazing experience. (see Our Panama Adventure, posted April 2021 on this blog for more detail)

Upon arrival on the Atlantic coast of Panama, the center for jungle training, the US Army provided a concrete shell of a home on elevated columns to keep it above the bugs and 140" of annual rainfall.  We had to buy and install our own window air conditioners (3: upstairs, downstairs, and later in our storage room).  I screened in a play area between the bottom level columns. Dawn bought carpets for the linoleum floors and added all the details that make a house into a home.  I built two couches using beautiful native mahogany.  We had to share our home with cockroaches which were resistant to any poison and could exist by eating the glue off labels or cardboard box joints. (Air Force quarters came with central A/C and tile floors.)

The US-supported Panama Canal Company was going out of business, and the canal itself was being ceded to Panama, controlled by the dictator Noriega, when we arrived.  Being located on Lake Gatun and near the ocean, I designed and built a sailboat shortly after arrival which served us well for our 3-year tour.  I was able to buy some marine plywood before the Canal stores closed.  Everything else came from a local lumber source in Colon or by shipment from the US.  The peacock bass fishing in Lake Gatun is excellent, and the boat also transported us to remote snorkeling and picnic sites.  

We lived surrounded by jungle and exotic fauna. We harvested bananas and coconuts in our yard; observed parrots and monkeys in the trees. We had a maid; went snorkeling every week; sailed to remote bays and offshore islands; hiked in the triple canopy jungle; visited abandoned ruins of Spanish forts. We experienced the transition as the Canal Zone was turned over to Panama.  Professionally, I wrote dental articles for the Southern Command newspaper and participated in the Transisthmian 50-mile running race (part of a 10-member dental team).  I also volunteered for medical missions to our embassies in Bogota, Caracas, and Santo Domingo.

A day's outing on a secluded beach in my homemade sailboat. The snorkeling was excellent. We even brought our dog, Daisy.

All US Army HQ and major functions were on the Pacific coast.  The Southern Command News put out a solicitation for articles of a medical and dental nature for its readers.  No dentists were interested in getting involved.  In our little remote clinic on the Atlantic coast, the center for jungle training, I heard about this opportunity and thought it would be a good forum to answer the questions that my patients often asked of me.  After I submitted a series of four articles which were all published, suddenly I was accused of "hogging" this opportunity!  From being uninterested, now my fellow dentists had become jealous!  Politics are universal.

We had a series of bad commanders for our US Army Panama dental organization, but, as a young captain, I got along well with my patients and clinic chiefs which shielded me from some of the idiocy.  Being assigned to a remote jungle clinic also helped. One of our commanders was relieved for shoplifting (mental health problems); his replacement was a dishonest, arbitrary tyrant.  On the Pacific coast, the most junior dentists served all emergency dental duty (nights and weekends).  Each of the junior dentists assigned to the Pacific coast left the Army after this assignment.  Patient treatment and my professional reputation were my only concerns, because I was not planning to make a career of the military. 

 And we traveled: Costa Rica, Columbia, Venezuela, Ecuador, Dominican Republic, & San Blas Islands. I also served as navigator bringing a friend's yacht from Miami to Colon, Panama, with stops in Mexico and Honduras (see the Sept. 2019 entry in this blog)).  It was a real adventure described separately. The clinic building where I had worked, located on Lake Gatun, is now renovated as part of a resort hotel.  We inquired about staying a fourth year, but the Army had already decided my next assignment.

We were headed to Huntsville, Alabama.  At first the Army wanted us to live on base in a 1,000 sq. ft. 'cracker box'.  They threatened to take away our housing allowance if I didn't cooperate. When I explained to the deputy base commander that providing a proper home for our family was #1, and such an action would convince us to leave the Army, they relented, and we found a home in an excellent neighborhood off base.  For the new home, Dawn and I added a storm door to the front entrance and personally installed insulation in the floor via the crawlspace to increase energy efficiency.  Our new neighbors welcomed us with prepared food dishes and inquiries into which church we planned to attend, Southern hospitality at work.

Dressed up in Alabama.  Broadway plays straight from New York would come to Huntsville.  That collection of butterflies in the background came from our time in Panama.

I designed and built this 20-foot-long sharpie sailboat and its sails while we were in Alabama.  We could take the entire family out in it.  Our dog Daisy fell overboard while walking the edge of the deck (gust of wind), and we had to turn around and pick her up.  Pivoting centerboard, two masts, inboard rudder & tiller, and motor mount.  Becoming a dentist did not stop me from engineering.  An article on my mathematical design of the sails was published in a sailmaking journal, "Fabric Foils".  As of today, I have designed and built 13 different boats.


It was a good experience with excellent schools, a sense of neighborliness, and well-organized youth sports leagues. It is a center for the high-tech US Space Program. I was looking at private practice in South Carolina where I had obtained a state dental license after previously flying from Panama to Charleston to take the state exam. When Dawn accompanied me to look at a practice in Greenville, her reaction was, "I don't want to live in one place for the next twenty-plus years." She had developed a liking for the variety and travel of the military lifestyle. I had been lackadaisical about military matters, but, from that point, I started saluting more often and considering what was needed to get promoted. I needed to build my military resume. First was an unaccompanied Army Staff course, Combined Arms Service Staff School, in Kansas. Second was an advanced residency in Monterey, California.

We spent three years at Monterey; the goal was preparation for National Board certification. The residency training was intense, both academic and clinical.  In the civilian world, National Board certification is unimportant; complicated treatments can easily be referred to a nearby specialist.  In the military system, well-qualified dentists are needed in areas where timely referrals to specialists are not easily obtained.  Smaller clinics where I served (most of my assignments) had few or no specialists stationed there.  Preparation for the National Board of Comprehensive Dentistry includes advanced training in oral surgery, periodontics, endodontics, pediatrics, prosthodontics, and even some orthodontics.  Each resident was required to produce a research paper or literature review as well as several lectures. My research project was later published.

We had a class of six residents; it was a selective group.  Initially there was this sense that we were competing against each other.  If you are not the smartest one in the group, you need to be the most organized or the hardest working to stand out.  The quality of my fellow residents was such that there was no shame in not being #1.  I pointed out that the goal for all of us was to be the best dentists possible, not to beat the other guy.  I shared all the notes, articles, and other sources that I had for each subject and encouraged others to do the same.  My engineering background was helpful.  That attitude was adopted by everyone.  At graduation, the clinic staff told us we were the best group they had experienced with our cooperation and support for each other.

Our dog, Daisy, on a windsurfer with me.   Daisy would go down a playground slide with me.  She would ride down a snow-covered hill on a sled with me.  She would let me clean her teeth with dental instruments.  When she got a bone stuck in her jaw, she came running to me.  Absolute trust!  


While at Monterey, I also started Command & General Staff College by correspondence. I went through Combat Casualty Care training in Texas and passed an arduous five days of field testing for the Expert Field Medical Badge, normally awarded to infantry medics.  We bought a home and, as usual, started re-decorating and re-landscaping.  We did get to take the family to Hawaii for a week at the mid-point in training. I also coached an AYSO soccer team (I had been an assistant coach back in Alabama). After graduation, Dawn completed selling our home while I went ahead to Germany and located a townhouse for us in the small town of Elsenfeld.

Next on my to-do list was to gain clinic management experience. Director of Dental Services at a base in northern Bavaria proved to be the toughest assignment of my career. We were short staffed with some inexperienced staff, bad actors, and an incompetent senior NCO. Dental HQ provided no support; I was on my own dealing with personnel issues except for JAG consultation.  My clinic was the most distant from regional dental HQ and was located in a different military district from HQ; thus, any problems with dental services in my clinic would not reflect back directly on my boss but be reported elsewhere.

Consequently, I got the 'crumbs' in terms of personnel and budget from dental HQ.  When we discovered that my arriving senior NCO had been relieved from his previous job for incompetence, I was told that I would get no replacement.  I was stuck with him.  When I created a chart showing that our clinic was the most understaffed of any clinic in the region, the only reaction was the enmity of my commander for revealing the disparity.  My admin duties were done evenings; I inspected the clinic on weekends.  I had to choose between supporting our patients or supporting my dental commander.    

I reported to two commanders.  I always got along well with my base commander because my highest priority was the welfare of his soldiers and their families.  My dental commander was stationed elsewhere and cared mainly that 1) I didn't create any work for him, and 2) that I made him look good. 

  When I took over this clinic in Germany and discovered that productivity had been intentionally falsified, I informed my dental commander, and he ordered me NOT to correct the numbers to show true conditions.  I replied that I would strive to bring reality up to meet the published status.  My predecessor, responsible for the false reports, had been promoted and given a staff job working for the general.  This was just one of many problems I had to deal with; personnel were an even greater issue (immaturity, inexperience, infidelity, incompetence, and even professional malpractice), but that would take pages to explain.

[When stationed in Alabama, our commander incentivized staff dentists to inflate their productivity.  When I pointed out that his guidance was contrary to written regulations, he told us to follow his instructions.  He then moved on to a cushy staff job in his next assignment.  Subsequently inspectors came, spotted the falsified numbers, and demanded compliance with regulations.  Our new commander was then upset because our clinic was no longer a "high performing" facility, although nothing had changed in daily patient treatment.]  As I have said before, "Politics are universal." 

Many days of leave, 'vacation time', were spent at home studying for the Boards. I was additionally in charge of a 54-unit military housing area and a member of the Base Commander's staff and Family Advocacy Case Management Team. My car was totaled on the autobahn in a multi-vehicle accident while on my way to a conference (rear-ended by a BMW when I braked to avoid a sudden mix-up ahead). I was unhurt (although my passenger got whiplash); the designed "crumple zones" on the car absorbed the impact, and I still was able to give my scheduled lecture at the conference.

I was finishing Command & General Staff College (with honors). My written and oral National Board exams were scheduled.  I passed the four-day oral exam in Texas while fending off jetlag.  (I would sleep from 6pm to 2am.)  My orders only allowed me to arrive the evening before the exam began.  We were also subject to two major clinic inspections during my time there.

Desert Storm happened. I was training for field deployment myself in case the conflict was prolonged. We worked long hours to ensure that deploying troops had no developing dental problems.  We needed to re-examine and treat as needed each of the thousands of troops deploying because many of their records contained falsified dental fitness data: 12-hour days and 7 days per week.  Under field conditions, simmering problems become debilitating emergencies in remote locations.  Armored units from our community were in the spearhead of the invasion. My regional dental commander, after failing to provide support, tried to extend my tour there.

(The fact that we were ordered to re-examine all the deploying troops was a tacit acknowledgement by those higher up that the published dental fitness data was inaccurate, laced with falsehood.  If those numbers had been accurate, we could have simply called in a short list of soldiers with urgent needs and completed their treatment.) 

In my dental commander's mind, my job was to make him look good. Frequently clinic chiefs, like me, did that by taking the shortcut of falsifying/exaggerating productivity numbers* in reports, which I refused to do.  I also would not tolerate that in any of the dentists who worked for me.  In my mind, patient welfare came first; accurate records facilitate that, and his job was to support our clinic.  Our evening walks in the Spessart woods preserved my sanity.  This was the point of maximum stress in my career.

*[ I could write many pages on the myriad problems encountered at this assignment and other assignments. The system was often corrupt, abetted by many individuals with a "go along to get along" attitude rather than doing the harder job of doing what is right.  One example: Falsifying productivity came in three forms: 1) Taking credit for more treatment for a patient than was actually performed: credit for work not done. 2) Listing the patient as being in good dental health when, in fact, conditions were present that were very likely to become future serious problems; thus, putting off difficult treatment but increasing future emergencies. 3) Including records of past patients, who had separated from service or been transferred, as part of the active patient roster, inflating the perceived need for more staff and budget.] 

The Iron Curtain / Berlin Wall fell. Dawn was able to visit Prague both before and after the Iron Curtain was eliminated.  During her initial visit, she noted that no one spoke in the streets; everyone was being watched.  Afterwards, the streets were a celebration.  When Dawn heard that the Berlin Wall was coming down, she took our children out of school and drove to Berlin, although still forced to stop at East German border guard posts to show passports.  She and our children have historic memories (and photos) of being in Berlin celebrating with the crowds and chipping souvenir chunks of concrete from the Wall as it was toppled.

Dawn and I both enjoyed fast cars on the autobahn.  My replacement car was a US-built Ford SHO (purchased with a telephone call to the US and shipment to Hamburg) with speed-rated tires, disc brakes, a firm suspension and a high-revving Yamaha-built engine which would take it to almost 140 mph.  Many German vehicles are geared to go fast, but this was geared low enough that it could maintain such speeds while going uphill.  It was not uncommon for German cars to challenge this red US-built car on the autobahn.  On a trip to an appointment in Frankfurt, I set the cruise control at 120mph for much of the distance.  At that speed, even gentle curves feel tight.  Once, I was passed by a guy on a motorcycle at 130mph with his girlfriend clinging behind!  Dawn drove it to Prague and back with friends for shopping bargains (porcelain & crystal) instead of driving her Scorpio.

My other thrill was a course I took in hang gliding and paragliding. I attended with a fellow Army officer.  All flights were solo. Paragliding is the safer, more popular option and uses less equipment.  The banana-shaped canopy is controlled by flaps with control lines.  Weather and wind currents were also stressed in our instruction.  Our final exam was to launch from atop a ski slope, glide down an alpine mountain to the town of Garmisch, turn to face upwind, float over the stadium walls, and land inside the winter Olympic stadium.  What an amazing bird-like sensation!  Our hang-gliding instruction was limited to reduced-wing-surface-area gliders so that we didn't soar too far above the slopes.  They were more dangerous due to higher speeds achieved. Unfortunately, I was too busy to follow up on these sports.

Herr Taube presenting me with the German Sports Badge.  Events included a high jump, shot put, sprint, and measured swim over several hundred meters.  A designated minimum score had to be achieved in each event.  The activity was offered by a German sports organization.  It was one more achievement to list when it came time for promotion consideration.  
    

I survived that assignment and gladly moved to the southern Netherlands.  We rented a nice home in the small town of Hulsberg. The new clinic and community were much better (headquarters instead of basic infantry). I received vastly better command support.  [example: I received a budget of $500 for civilian staff bonuses instead of the measly $150 at my previous assignment.]  My Dutch staff members were a joy to work with. We had a Mercedes bus, equipped as a mobile clinic, which we used to visit remote supply sites throughout the Netherlands.  Occasionally, I would also see patients at our US clinic in Brussels when their staff was occupied elsewhere.

At a HQ meeting in Brussels, we were told to keep track of the individual productivity of each of our staff.  When I got back to our clinic, I told the staff what had been said.  Then, I announced that was NOT what we would be doing.  We would post one number- the total productivity of the entire staff.  I walked the clinic floor enough to know what each person was doing.  Some procedures counted for more credit than others, but they all needed to be done.  I wanted a team, not individuals competing against each other.  I could use that approach because our staff was very professional and responsible.  It would never have worked at my previous clinic.  

Our clinic received an award for being the most outstanding Army clinic of its size group in Europe! What a great clinic staff; so superior to my previous clinic!  At the award ceremony, my previous dental commander from Germany shook my hand, saying that I had learned it all under his command. I replied, "When you learn to accomplish the mission without support, it is easy to excel when you are provided HQ support." Yes, I was bitter. Our children attended an international school. We visited Dublin, Dubrovnik, Athens, Tunisia, as well as the central European countries. Re-visiting beautiful Dubrovnik was the main goal of a recent European vacation.

US troop levels were being reduced in Europe.  The family agreed; it was time to come home to the US. Our children were becoming young adults. They were in/entering high school, a time for lasting bonding with friends.  Dawn flew to the US, scouting ahead, and bought a new home being built in a forested golf-course subdivision slightly south of Richmond, Virginia.  We made one exterior improvement on our new home; I designed and built a covered entry for the front door, then had the plywood sheathing and felt covered with standing seam copper, both esthetic and functional.

I had another challenging assignment.  From previous encounters, I knew that my new commander was the most ineffectual (ROAD= retired on active duty) colonel I was aware of, and I made it my goal to replace him.  There was another officer at the clinic with similar qualifications as myself with whom I would be unofficially competing.  I needed to excel.  I volunteered to replace our retiring Board-Certified oral surgeon and take charge of the hospital dental clinic.  Not being an oral surgeon myself, this would be a challenge but, having served in small clinics where there was no one nearby to refer patients to, I had previous experience performing difficult surgeries on my own.

I would have to rely on my training, experience, and clinical judgement of what surgeries to do and what cases to refer. Having the complete instrumentation of a well-stocked surgery clinic helped.  My first task was to gain the respect of the clinic oral surgery assistant; she was used to working with a trained oral surgeon.  I was warned that she was difficult to work with.  Brenda Washington had grown up in the most depressed part of Washington, DC, and had her first child at an early age.  Instead of lapsing into a life of welfare and sequential "baby daddies", she worked and studied to become a top-notch surgical assistant.  She was not difficult to work with: she simply set high standards for herself and those around her to meet.

We "clicked" as a team, and she was a pleasure to work with.  I told her, "Brenda, you would make a good oral surgeon yourself."  Her reply, "I know, Doc, but I am too old to pursue that diploma."  We both knew the truth in that statement.  My second task was to find a good source to refer the most difficult treatment cases.  I knew that the local US Army oral surgeon was lazy (Again, previous experience.  I had dealt with him in Germany.), and he would do almost anything to avoid actual surgery, instead placing patients on an 'indefinite' waiting list.  I called the US Navy base at Portsmouth and talked to one of their staff oral surgeons.  I promised that I would not send them "trash".  All referrals would have the proper lab tests, radiographs, medications, diagnoses, and justifications.  I would refer about one case per month.  Their support was essential; the Navy and I got along well.    

In a poorly justified Army decision, the Fort Lee medical staff was chosen to be reduced; the hospital would be scaled back to a mere clinic. The base commanding general was furious when he belatedly was informed of the planned reduction in medical services.  As other dentists left, I assumed their responsibilities (supply, pharmacy, enlisted evaluations, contracting, etc.) and made myself indispensable. The promotion to Colonel was awarded.  I took charge of the retirement party for our previous clinic commander.  (My 'competition' volunteered for an assignment in Kuwait and was later promoted.)

I assumed command of the reduced dental unit but with no reduction in the population served.  The previous clinic commander saw no patients; instead spending his entire day on "administrative" duties, pushing paper and creating projects for the remainder of the staff to complete.  When I took over, I was able to take care of all administration in two hours per day; devoting the other six hours to continued patient treatment.

The workload was heavy; we served many thousands of logistics trainees annually in addition to base personnel. As soon as we treated severe dental conditions in one group of trainees, they departed, and we started over with a new group.  I once did 126 screening exams in one day (rotating between four assistants and dental chairs); for less complex tooth extractions I averaged seeing a new patient every 30 minutes. Dedicated staff members were getting burned out. Two good staff dentists quit the Army and dentistry: one to become a chef, the other a real estate agent.

I realized that no pictures of me in an officer's uniform were included, so I added this one.


My previous senior commander from the Netherlands/Belgium was now in charge of the Washington, DC, area, and it was time for me to move. He wanted me in DC; so, I went to Walter Reed Hospital.  DC is not family friendly; Dawn and our children stayed in southern Virginia. I had an apartment and got home on most weekends; leaving later in the evening after rush hour, it was still a 140-mile "stock car race" in heavy traffic south on I-95 Friday nights in my SHO Taurus.  Dawn had her own successful Pampered Chef business and earned us trips to Florida and Hawaii.

When I first arrived at Walter Reed, the dental clinic had a policy for after-hours emergency call in which junior officers served more often and less so for higher ranks.  I changed that; because we all were being paid for our dental skills, I announced that all dentists, including myself, would serve on the emergency call roster equally.  A 'game' that some officers had played was to put in for leave (vacation time) when it was their turn for a week of emergency call.  Then their name would move to the bottom of the list, and they avoided call.  I changed that also: if they put in for leave, their name stayed at the top of the list and emergency call would be served as soon as they returned.  The changes were well-received when staff dentists realized that by sharing equally, they would each be on call only 2-3 weeks per year.  The new policy especially improved the morale of the younger, junior dentists. 

In a large metropolitan area, each week of emergency call could be quite demanding.  You had to be ready to report to the emergency station within 30 minutes whenever called, even if that meant sleeping at the hospital.  Once, I came in at 2:00 AM to find three undiagnosed patients, all in pain, waiting to be seen.  I will never forget once arriving at an ER in the early hours to see a patient who had been in a serious head-on car accident where he "kissed" the steering wheel (drunk and speeding).  His face had ripped to where it was a jigsaw puzzle with bone exposed.  His upper lip could be lifted over his eyes.

First, I had to determine where the torn sections of his lips fit together (nasal intubation was used).  Start by suturing the underlying connective tissue. While I sutured his face back together, two physicians were frantically opening his chest (separating ribs, incising the pericardial sac, blood spilling on the floor) to allow his heart to beat normally (cardiac tamponade).  His partially severed left fingers were left wrapped; they would be a next priority. He was in intensive care for a month.  I have treated broken jaws and other complicated cases but nothing quite this dramatic. 

While at Walter Reed, a staff oral surgeon and myself showed veterinarians how to extract teeth and do root canal therapy on research monkeys.  With their large, sharp fangs, the monkeys would try to bite their handlers, and they often are carriers of a rare form of hepatitis for which humans have no resistance; rapidly fatal if contracted.  We gowned, double gloved, masked, wore eye shields, and put on paper hats until no part of our body was exposed.  Those monkey fangs are almost twice the size of our human equivalent.  Once we had the teeth out, the veterinarians asked, "Can you show us something easier?"  We then showed them how to cut the teeth off and perform root canal therapy on the remaining tooth root structure.

I participated in a memorable and uplifting activity early one Saturday morning when all US Army dental personnel in the DC area assembled at Fort Myer for a unit run.  In formation and cadence and calling out Jody calls, we left Fort Myer, passed Arlington National Cemetery, crossed the Potomac, ran past the Lincoln Memorial, and jogged on across the National Mall until we reached the Washington Monument.  All ranks, races, and genders (2), moving in unison, all voices calling out in exuberance and confidence; what a great sense of unity and purpose!  I felt like we could keep running for many more miles; however, breakfast was ready and waiting at the Monument.  Our service members demonstrate more respect, discipline, and commitment by far than most civilians.  They are my favorite patients.

Walter Reed is a unique assignment. We saw politicians, generals, heads of foreign countries, evacuees from foreign terrorist incidents as well as typical patients.  General Alexander Haig was a patient of mine. We had a large staff (20+ dentists) with every specialty including an oral surgery training program, oral pathologist, and maxillo-facial prosthodontist (replacing eyes, noses, ears, as well as teeth and jaws). Very interesting and high-profile place, but not the type of life I wanted to live for an extended period. After two years I requested another assignment; a position where more free time would be available to plan retirement.

At the annual national US Army Dental Corps dinner, I was awarded the Order of Military Medical Merit, presented to four senior dentists each year (out of about 1500 total Army dentists) for their career contributions and achievements.  Being at Walter Reed provided the visibility necessary to put me in consideration for this award.  Potential candidates are first recommended, then they are asked to submit a resume including community activities, and finally the winners are chosen by Dental Corps senior leaders.  Most of my career had been in smaller, more remote clinics where you would never receive this attention. 

    The Black River in Winter in northern New York state.  Upon arrival at our base, I was issued special cold weather gear and given a class on snowblower operation.  November's snow didn't melt until April.  You could visualize how glaciers form as each layer of snow was compacted by subsequent layers until the lowest turned to ice.

Colin & Dawn walking the nature trail along the Black River.  The temperature was below zero.  We would also cross-country ski this trail.  We went out almost daily; winter was too long to stay indoors.


Dawn sold our home, and we moved to Fort Drum on the Canadian border in the Thousand Islands region of New York State.  Both of our children were away at college. We had a cozy little farmhouse in the woods, almost by itself.  At mornings deer would be grazing on our forested lawn. The rocky Black River was nearby. In winter we could cross-country ski from our back door along a nature trail.  I found enough space in the basement to build an Adirondack guide boat during the long winter.  In summer, we could rent an 18' inboard boat and explore the many islands in the St. Lawrence seaway and even have lunch at Gananoque on the Canadian shore.  Ottawa and Kingston were also nearby for visits.

A typical winter day at Fort Drum, NY.  Our son, Colin, worried about his car while visiting for the Holidays.

Our dental personnel held an enjoyable unit day trip to Lake Placid for snow skiing.  My impression was that the runs are narrow and icy, not nearly as good as the slopes in Colorado.  Routinely, Dawn & I skied at a much closer but smaller ski area.  Fort Drum is a rapid deployment infantry base with high fitness standards.  When the base commanding general scheduled a formation run around the developed base area for all units, I was selected to lead all dental personnel because I was the only Colonel (O-6) who routinely ran PT with the fastest run group.

I was no longer in charge of a clinic, and we took the opportunity to travel widely across the US, including both coasts, and look for our future home. We stood atop the World Trade Center in Manhattan, then returned only a few months later (with our children) to view 9/11's devastation. I attended the initial planning meeting for 10th Mountain Division's deployment to Afghanistan but knew this time I would not be involved. My active military service was about to end. We had enjoyed many regions of our country; it was time to pick one as home.

Viewing the devastation of Sept. 11, 2001, in New York city.  Having visited the World Trade Towers recently, I knew immediately when first reported that this disaster was no accident.

Again, Dawn came through; she had been researching on the internet and made a trip to Colorado Springs by herself (while I visited my hospitalized father). Although we had never previously lived in Colorado, it has become our new home. We have lived in four homes in the Colorado Springs area during the twenty-two years we have been here. We designed and helped build two of them; I was the General Contractor for our current home; two were temporary rentals. Re-decorating and re-landscaping have been longtime hobbies for us with every move.

For the past 18 years, until final retirement in May 2021, I enjoyed working part-time (with flexible day schedule!) at Peterson AFB dental clinic.  Even as a colonel, I continued to enjoy meeting the challenge of my patient's needs more than administrative duties; thus, the transition to being a contract dentist was uneventful.  I could concentrate on giving the best care possible to my favorite patients.

Thoughts remembered:

I remember the example set by my parents: two farm kids who grew up in the Depression, were separated by military service in WWII, and based on their strong values, belief in each other, and their shared hard work, built a lifetime marriage & family.

I remember, when questioning my presence at Nebraska University, reading the opening section of Atlas Shrugged (never finished) by Ayn Rand whose message to me was that pursuing my own priorities and capabilities was more important than accepting the campus zeitgeist, being part of any group, staying with the familiar.  It encouraged a decision I have never regretted. 

I remember crossing the Pacific by air, returning from Vietnam, and thinking of people I had seen there, good people struggling at an uncertain existence in a war-torn country; then, at the end of a long flight, looking down through the evening sky at the bright lights of coastal California and really appreciating how fortunate I was to be in a land with so many opportunities awaiting.

From that point onward (now shared with Dawn) my resolution has been to unhesitatingly pursue the life I want (not chasing others' expectations), making no excuses, ignoring naysayers, accepting challenges, and minimizing any regrets. Today comes but once. I was a dreamer in high school; not knowing who I was; trying to be like my friends.  Life is a process of learning and becoming; dreams evolve to plans, then to realization, while facing the challenges of new situations along the way.  We learn, grow, and find meaning as we explore the world around us.

Building my first Boat


The year was 1976.  This was the first boat I designed and built.  It was designed using a slide rule for calculations.  The hull was bonded using resorcinol resin.  I was a student at the time and had limited time for such projects.  We were living in a duplex, and the boat was built in the basement. (Shortly afterwards we bought our own cute little home.) A critical dimension was the size of the kitchen window because the boat had to be brought up the stairs and passed out of the window to get out of the house.  The boat performed well.  I erred on the side of strength when designing, and the boat was heavier than it needed to be but was still manageable.  The freeboard was only about 8-9" which was adequate for the protected waters, small lakes and streams, it operated on.  The plains of Nebraska are windy, and the low profile was very advantageous in limiting wind resistance.  Later I built a crude sail, rudder, and leeboards for it and actually did some sailing.  We sold it when I graduated and moved. 

Postscript:  I am currently building boat #13:  3 kayaks, 2 18-foot powerboats (incl. waterskiing), 2 sailboats, and 6 rowing boats.

Back to the Past, Germany

 We lived in Bavaria 1988-91.  We are now back in Bavaria, and Austria, for the next eleven days.  The beginning of this trip was inauspicio...