Saturday, October 12, 2024

STC (part 8) - Halloween 1984 - Out of this World

 




It's 1984. 

The space shuttle Challenger is up in orbit. The Reagan administration is beefing up defense to fight the Evil Empire of Communism. And the Satellite Tracking Center, known as the S*T*C, is staffing up to meet those challenges. 

Then the old boy network finds itself turned upside down when young professional women, such as Samantha Clark and Rosalind Hart, breach the male-dominated mission control teams inside the S*T*C. In the secrecy demanded in the classified world, how do Sam and Roz cope with men behaving badly? Will the women or the old boys break first?

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Newcomer Samantha Clark gets her secret clearance and moves over to the F1 shop with other trainees.

October 1984, the new hires experience their first Halloween inside the S*T*C.

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The Players:

Planner Analyst Leads...

Dan Brackman: power hungry, money hunger lead of all F1 planner analysts

Rich Kerry: day shift lead

Justin "JC" Chavez:  swing shift lead, loves  porn and Fig Newtons

Jeff Ritter: graves shift lead, Dan's good buddy, and comedian

The certified planner analysts...

Virgil Kingman: trainer and all-round good guy

Mike Bonacelli: JC's friend and co-worker from the Bronx

Ivan "the Terrible" Frankel: dare devil and thrill seeker

Austin Fuller: usually hides on graves

The Trainees...

The boys:

Charles "Chuckles" Sinclair: ambitious, snobbish

Enrique Rodriguez: sensitive, SciFi and paranormal aficionado

Arye Cohen: nice Jewish boy from Queens and "Mr. Know-it-all"

Dieter Christensen: hangs out on graves

The girls...

Sam Matijevic Clark: one of the main characters, brunette, married

Cybele "Tatiana" Harmon: creative, psychic, paranormal aficionado

Holly Watson: part time aerobics instructor, beauty of ambiguous ethnicity

Others....

Big Ben: Holly's boyfriend, working in another shop

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Chapter FIFTY-ONE

“How’re you doing, JR?” asked Jeff Ritter. 

“Just great. And you, JR?” Dan Brackman grinned back.

Sam watched the two leads, Dan and Jeff. Patting each other on the backs. Shaking each other’s hands. 

She understood why Dan may want to call Jeff Ritter JR. As everyone around here was fond of calling people by their initials. 

But Dan?

Virgil Kingman noticed Sam’s quizzical looks. “Jeff is Dan’s good buddy. And they’re pleased as punch. Congratulating each other.”

“Calling each other JR?”

“It’s JR as in J.R. Ewing of Dallas.”

“I’m not that into Dallas. And this JR thing is weird.”


https://youtu.be/wKloBLFeYOs?si=xzTyhcfoLDP5rmyV

Virgil explained, “Dan and Jeff invested in oil wells. Got news they made a big windfall profit. And Dan…I heard him say, he just doesn’t want to be well off. He wants to be rich.”

“You mean rich, like Rich Kerry?” Sam returned a sidelong smile.

* * *

The last weeks of October during day shift, TAs and customers flooded into the F1 planning room. Another launch was scheduled after Thanksgiving. That kept the full analysts busy reviewing launch and early orbit command plans.

Virgil met with Dan and expressed his training concerns. 

“It took a while to get the first wave of new hires certified. We need to get going on the next wave. Especially with the launch coming up.”

“I’ll be the one to decide who gets certified and when.” Dan fingered a stack of books. “And I’ll get to it as soon as I review these manuals for our latest satellite.”

“Us full analysts can help with the manuals. As well as work with the new people to get them certified.”

Dan glared at Virgil. “I’m the lead in this shop. And you don’t have to be an ass and go over my head to Isidro…like last time.”

“Okay. Okay.” Virgil backed down with his hands up. He had seen this turf war so many times in the Air Force. As a sergeant, he often did what he could to shield his men from the bullshit that came down from the big brass above. 

And in the S*T*C, nothing had changed.

* * *

Ivan Frankel was back on days. Around the planning table, he had more tales to tell a fresh audience of newbies. 

Except for Chuckles, who was purposely ignoring Ivan. 

“I was a pre-med student once,” Ivan said, now the center of attention. “Started dental school before coming to the S*T*C.”

“Really?” Cybele looked up from her manual, half-asleep. She was paying her dues, doing her obligatory time on day shift this week. “And you ended up here. The gods must be crazy.”

“I really wanted to be a dentist.” Ivan twitched his mustache.

Sam piped up, “Can’t image you looking into people’s dirty mouths all day.”

“Now I listen to dirty mouths all day.” Ivan laughed.

Arye Cohen, the walking encyclopedia, added more facts. 

“And statistics show that dentists are at the top of the list of professions that result in suicides. Up to six times higher than any other.”

“Suicides? Really?” Ivan grinned at Arye. “Maybe that’s why I was so attracted to dentistry. That and inflicting pain.”

Arye nodded. “Touché, Ivan. Touché.”

“Some of the classes in dental school were pretty cool,” Ivan continued. “In one of my anatomy classes, we got to dissect corpses.” 


https://youtu.be/MslsfAb1M9E?si=TU568Wfw42OYmiID

“Sounds like you’d fit in very well on graves,” Cybele said.

“Usually, we got the worst specimens of humanity.” Ivan’s eyes lit up. “Like alcoholics. They often sell their bodies to medical schools for booze money. And they’re usually very fat.”

Sam looked at Ivan askance.

“This one woman we dissected had tons of flab on her jelly belly. To get to her vital organs, we had to dip our hands into a sea of lard. And when we got to them, they were all shriveled up—especially her liver.

“And that was not the worst of it. When closed her back up, we could not fit all the flab and organs back inside her. And we couldn’t even close the drawer, where we pulled her out of.”

“What’d you do?” Arye asked.

“We scooped out two buckets of fat. When we closed her back up, her boobs crossed.” Then Ivan got his laugh engine going again. “Only then, she’d fit back inside the drawer.”

“It’s like getting stuff back into boxes you buy at the store,” Sam said. “They never quite fit when you try to put the pieces back in again.”

“Anybody ready for more coffee?” Arye lifted his empty cup.

* * *

Cybele looked beat. Everyone did coming off of graves.

“Need some coffee?” Sam offered. “Arye’s going to make a run for us at the Satellite Dish.”

“No thanks, darling,” Cybele said. “Only drink tea.” 

Then she fought nodding off, again.

During a briefing, the crew learned that one of their satellites had gone deaf. The receivers seemed broken. The satellite was not responding to any commands from earth.


https://youtu.be/hXa3bTcIGPU?si=HcgS3TI0-1ngeIY4

The Tiger Team was brainstorming this anomaly. On passes with the deaf bird, the crew sent commands. Just in case something would get through to command back on any of the uplink receivers.

Cybele approached Rich after hearing this problem. “I can help.”

Rich looked skeptical, but Cybele explained, “I’m psychic, Rich. I may be able to make contact with the deaf bird. She may tell me what’s wrong with her.”

“’Kay,” Rich said carefully.

Cybele sensed he was an unbeliever. But Enrique took her aside. “I’d like to see you do that.”

“Halloween on graves,” she nodded, “when the veil to the other side is thin.” 

* * *

When Arye was back on days, Virgil and Ivan confided to Sam of a game they liked to play with Mr. Know-It-All.

Virgil glanced at Arye. “This guy can be really funny.”

Ivan took it from there. “So, we talk about a science topic. Like black holes or relativity or something Carl Sagan would say Then we set our watches to see how long it takes for boy genius here to get drawn in and start lecturing us about it.”

“Before that,” Virgil continued, “we guess our times. And the loser buys coffee at the Satellite Dish.”

“Are you in?” Ivan looked at Sam.

“Sure.” Sam gave them her time, which Virgil wrote down on a small memo pad. “I did a paper on black holes in college you know.”

“Perfect. You start the ball rolling, physics girl,” Ivan said.

The three analysts synchronized their watches as Arye came within earshot.

“On my mark.” Ivan lifted a finger.

Sam began, “It’s not true, Virgil, that everything that goes into a black hole never comes out, again.”

Virgil asked, “And why’s that?”

“It violates the third law of thermodynamics that nothing reaches absolute zero. Since the black hole’s not absolute zero, it must radiate something. Since E equals m c squared, it eventually evaporates—”

Arye interrupted, “Is that the case for a static black hole or a spinning black hole?”

“Seventeen seconds.” Ivan looked at his watch.

Virgil looked at his list. “You lose, Sam.”

“Oh, darn,” Sam said. “How do you like ’em?”

Virgil said, “I take mine black.”

“Me, too,” Ivan said.

“I thought you guys were talking about black holes?” Arye asked.

Ivan shrugged. “Black holes. Black coffee. Whatever.” 

As Arye shook his head, Sam commented, “You look like a walking example of the second law of thermodynamics, Arye. And I’ve just increased the chaos inside your brain.”

Then Arye grew a wide smile as he shook a finger. “You guys got me. And Sam, I see you know more than you let on.”

Sam smiled back, as Arye really did have a sense of humor about himself. But Arye got in the last factoid. 

“And that radiation from black holes? It’s called Hawking radiation. After Dr. Stephen Hawking—the man in the wheelchair.” 


https://youtu.be/fqnmUNzn5N8?si=uOdM5oXblmCLsb-d


------------------------------


Chapter FIFTY-TWO

Last days of October, Sam and Holly rotated onto swings.

And Enrique eagerly followed. Holly Watson, that is.

In the mission control room, Enrique chatted it up with this beauty-in-training. Near the end of their satellite pass, Holly snapped her gum, rolled back her chair as she flung her big hair behind her. 

It was like a dominatrix cracking her whip.

Whoa!

The final snapshot of vital statistics rolled down the screen. Many lines of critical data were missing. And Enrique didn’t even notice it. 

The satellite pass ended. But not Enrique’s pass with Holly. 

* * *

“Holly, it’s for you,” Mike Bonacelli said wearily. 

Holly bustled to the black phone. “Hi, Ben my man. Whatcha been doing?” And Holly chatted away, twirling the phone cord as well as the curls in her big hair. 

Mike looked at JC, who was keeping score on the white board.

“That makes eight…eight personal calls,” said Mike. “And the night’s still young. Holly really needs her own line.”

JC made the latest hatch mark. “She should get her own 900 number. Charge for each call. Make a shit full of cash.” 


https://youtu.be/qVxqdFrrVU4?si=bqgwFdmtdvo0v_YX

“I’ll check the post-pass data.” Mike volunteered, seeing JC was getting into some good reading material. 

Popping two Fig Newtons into his mouth, JC looked through the November issue of Penthouse.

“Fuuuuuck!” JC heard Mike bellow from across the hall.

JC raised his eyebrows. How’d Mike know what I was thinking?

* * *

Mike called Enrique over to the planning table and flung at him the telemetry printout of the last state-of-health snapshot.

“What the hell is this?” Mike asked.

Enrique swallowed. “Looks like plain old telemetry to me.”

“Look closer, junior.” Mike held the computer printout.

Enrique gulped, again. “Looks like some data may be missing?”

“And you didn’t even notice that, you dumb fuck, when you’re with Holly on the pass?” Mike asked. “And you’re the certified analyst.”

Then JC got up and went to the schedule. “Okay, junior. You’re doing all the remaining passes tonight. And nothing better be missing.”

“But I had plans for dinner—”

“Yeah, with Barbie doll over there.” JC jerked his head toward Holly, who was still on the phone. “Next time I’ll call her hunk of a boyfriend in MCC-A. And tell him you’ve been hitting on her. Then call your girlfriend and tell her that you’ve been drooling like a love sick puppy—”

“Please! Don’t! We’re just friends.” Then Enrique looked toward Holly, who was still on the phone.

“Holly. Save me.” JC mocked in a falsetto.

“We’re up to twelve, JC.” Mike shook his head. “Chalk up twelve personal calls for Holly this evening. A new record.”

* * *

After a tour on swings, Sam had more fodder for her latest cartoons. She sketched Holly and Enrique together on the console with the captain:

How much power does it take to screw up a pass?

Punch line: One Watt, son. (Holly’s last name was Watson.)

Then Sam licked her pencil and sketched another strip. 

Enrique on a pass. First frame showed Enrique flirting with Holly while missing the final snapshot. The next frame an enraged Mike exclaiming to an embarrassed Enrique: Wrong pass, Enrique!

A third strip followed, a big haired Holly chatting on the phone to one of her numerous suitors, while an irritated JC kept score. A cross Mike instructed a forlorn Enrique, looking at Holly: Take a number, junior. 

So, three more episodes were added to the continuing drama, As the Satellite Turns.

* * *

After swing shift, some of the boys left with Holly for their safety meeting. They had asked Sam. Once. But she had declined.

“My husband’s waiting up for me at home,” she had explained.

“That’s why I’m glad I’m not hitched and on a leash like you,” JC had answered her back.

That night, JC and Mike met Holly and her boyfriend Big Ben at the Crow’s Nest. Holly played with the slice of lime in her drink. 

“So, this is really part of work, boys?” she asked.

“Yup.” Mike took a gulp of beer. “We discuss lots of work-related things here.”

“Like safety?” Holly shifted on her bar stool. “And it’s okay to charge the company for it and stuff?”

JC grinned. “We’re most concerned about our safety…like coming down this mountain in one piece.”

Holly shrugged as she sidled up to her boyfriend. It was best to go with flow. And the boys did enjoy her company.

* * *

Wednesday evening was Halloween. 

Enrique stayed after the shift briefing to rendezvous with Cybele in the breakroom. 

Cybele turned off the overhead lights and sat down with Enrique at the small table by the vending machines. The room glowed with an eerie red from the light of the soda pop dispenser. Perfect.

Cybele took a deep breath. “The veil is very thin tonight, darling.” 

“So, Cybele, you can get through to our sick satellite?” Enrique asked.

“Please. Call me Tatiana.” Then Cybele got somber. “And yes. I hear her…I feel her calling me.”

“But it’s a piece of space junk…not a living thing.”

“What makes you think she’s not living?” Cybele asked. “She has a soul, darling.”

“And I get what you’re saying about having a soul,” said Enrique. “I watch the Star Trek reruns all the time. Seen all the movies. But I never thought of a satellite as a she before.”

“Why not? Captain Kirk calls his starship a she. And she senses us, darling,” Cybele said. “Even though she’s 20,000 miles away.”


https://youtu.be/FMVZZYqLqdc?si=9RE__9eiAWGeZm0_

“That’s 20,000 nautical miles,” Enrique said.

Cybele took his hand. They closed their eyes. They chanted. 

Then Cybele shook and spoke in an altered voice. “This is Stella. I’m the one you’ve been trying to reach. And I’ve been reaching out to you, sympathetic souls. I’ve seen many things, too terrible to tell.”

Enrique squeezed Cybele’s hand as she continued channeling.

“If you saw the sadness and tragedy I’ve seen, you’d go insane with grief. Your mortal senses could not bear it. Humans bent on self-destruction like no other creature in this vast universe. That’s why I’ve gone deaf. I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t want to see anymore. I don’t want to speak anymore…”

Finally, the trance was broken. Cybele’s orange head scarf looked damp with perspiration. 

“Why happened?” she asked.

Enrique trembled. “To sum it up, she’s had it with us humans. Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil.” 

“Then it’s settled.” Cybele nodded. “All our plans to command her receivers back on will fail.”

“Right, Cybele…er, Tatiana. And you got the gift.”

Cybele lifted her long skirt and showed her withered leg. 

“Since I was young, I thought of the illness that had atrophied my muscles and deformed my leg. I wished so hard for a fairy queen to come and make me normal like the rest of the kids. But I heard voices say that my suffering would develop my other senses.”

“I’ll say.” Enrique’s mouth was agape. “You contacted that satellite much like Dave talking to HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey. And 2010 is coming to the theaters in December. Can’t wait to see it—”


https://youtu.be/Wy4EfdnMZ5g?si=JZ7PrY4e9pVNK5O-

Cybele cut him off. “Tell no one about this. Many unbelievers here.”

Enrique nodded. “Don’t we know it, Tatiana.”

* * *

Enrique left for the valley, and Cybele went back to graves in F1. 

Jeff, Austin, Dieter, and the rest were dressed in costumes. And the guys with kids brought in leftover Halloween candy.

“Here she is.” Jeff Ritter looked at Cybele. “Now I want to see you bend some forks.” 

Cybele cackled. “That’s the spirit!”



https://youtu.be/qIuqqWjX540?si=5A-7HDqRMcqgcj9b

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And that's the way it was back in 1984.

To learn more about a day in the life of a mission control team in the 1980s, please feel free to check out: 

S*T*C by S. K. Smith @ amazon.com

And tune in to the continuing drama...

As the Satellite Turns!

Your readership is appreciated.

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For more in this series, search blog:

STC - for S*T*C

Also 

CC1, CC2, CC3, CC4, CC5  - for The Commander and the Chief series

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Sunday, September 22, 2024

Shoutout (part 1) - Finn French Fish Feud: The F-Word Story

 



ABCs....

When kids learn the alphabet, it's often with the names of things, such as:  

A is for Apple, B is for Ball, C is for Cat....

Then comes fun with the letter F.



Before long, kids learn of the taboo F-word.  

More fun.

Here's a short read (it's clean) all about the F-Word.  It's a fine, not foul, fable finessed from F words: nouns, verbs, prepositions, adjectives. Glossary included.

 Finn French Fish Feud: The F-Word Story
by Kenneth John Anderson

This fun F-Word story was quite an exercise for the author, one of my brother's good friends and classmates from high school.

Hats off to Ken!

Check it out at:  amazon 

Available in paperback or Kindle.

Perhaps, there's a prequel in the works? The D-word?

Anyone?

So begins another thread, shoutouts to writers, works of arts, others.

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For more in this series, search blog:

ELM

English, Literature, and Musings

Shoutout

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Monday, August 26, 2024

STC (part 7) - 1984 Olympics

 



As of this posting, August 2024 has come to a close.

And earlier in the month, the 2024 Summer Olympics in Paris has ended with all its drama:



The Olympics 2024 is now for the history books.

Speaking of history...

Let's go back 40 years to 1984. 

And the 1984 Olympics are part of the background in this  historical novel:

Satellite Tracking Center

Women breaking into aerospace in the 1980s meet men behaving badly.

The action starts in February 1984, as the winter Olympics begin in the former Yugoslavia.

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Chapter 2

Samantha Matijevic Clark signed in at the S*T*C lobby.

Portraits of President Ronald Reagan and Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger hung above the reception desk, flanked by the American flag and the Great Bear of the Republic of California.

The guard handed Sam a lime green sticker badge with large letters:

ESCORT REQUIRED

Now sit down, hon.” He pointed to the couches and chairs in the corner. “And wait with the rest of the guys.”

Hon?” Sam fingered her long brunette braid.

He waved her off and made the call to her new supervisor.

Sam found a spot, sinking into an old gray chair. She tugged her tan skirt down over her knees. She peeled off the backing of her lime green badge, then stuck it on the right side of her maroon turtleneck sweater. Then she felt overdressed as she eyed many civilian contractors walking by her in blue jeans and T-shirts.

Her new coworkers—John McHenry, Tan Ho, Enrique Rodriguez—sat on the couch canted at a right angle to her chair. She had first met them Monday, three days ago, during their orientation at the Celestia Space Corporation (known as CSC) main office in San Matias.

John McHenry scratched his scruffy brown beard, which mirrored his fluffy hair. He squirmed in his blue jacket. It smelled like moth balls.

Well, I’ll be.” John chuckled and pointed to a boxy looking thing in space with solar panel wings. “There’s NAGS-1.”

Tan Ho gave John a puzzled look. “Nag…what?”

NAGS,” John said. “It’s a satellite.”

What you mean…nags a satellite?”

N-A-G-S. Stands for North American Geological Survey. That was their first satellite. Went up in the 60s.”

How you know that?”

I used to work for the geological survey,” John said. “But the recession hit. Then I lost my job.”

I was engineer when I lost job. Two years ago.” Tan nodded. “Had to work for uncle as bus boy in Chinese restaurant.”

John shrugged. “At least you had a job. Unemployment doesn’t go far when you’ve a wife and two kids to feed.”

Man.” Enrique Rodriguez shook his head. “I’ve been looking for work since I graduated last spring. Things really sucked in ’83.”

Tan and Enrique had many common features. Straight black hair. Brown eyes. Olive colored skin. They even dressed alike. Brown coats and ties with dark pants.

There were some differences, too. Enrique was stocky, Hispanic. Tan was slight of build, Asian descent.

John seemed to be the oldest. He was pondering the dirt under his fingernails. Tan’s dark eyes focused on the foggy sky beyond the big lobby windows. Enrique was thumbing through a movie critic’s magazine.

Sam glanced at military and astronaut memorabilia in the showcase for the Pacifica Air Force Station. Home of the S*T*C, The Satellite Tracking Center. Then she looked up at the TV in the lobby, tuned to CNN.

The sound was muted, but she could see game highlights. The 1984 Winter Olympics had opened in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia, two days ago. John, Tan, and Enrique were now chatting about those games.

https://youtu.be/2rwZg8Moseg?si=RWpyxC9xqnbaTqeZ

Sighing, Sam took out a pad of paper from her black tote bag, dotted with pastel-colored hearts, and started sketching cartoons. She had taken up drawing to keep her hands busy and stop herself from fidgeting.

In the middle of a stroke, she heard a man loudly clear his throat. The khaki clad guard glared at her from the entrance and pointed a sharp finger to the sign:

NO CAMERAS, NO RECORDERS.

Sam shrunk into the chair. She put her pad of paper back into her tote bag. Apparently, it also meant:

NO SKETCHING.


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Sam makes it through her first day at the S*T*C, then reflects about it on her drive home.

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Chapter 17

Sam drove down Mt. Nauseous in her small tan pickup truck.

Concentrate on the vanishing point in the road ahead.

That was the advice that Jim had given her to negotiate the many twists and turns on the mountain road. Soon, she was back in the valley. Then onto the freeway, heading for Santa Vittoria.

When the traffic slowed, Sam looked up at the S*T*C, perched on the coastal mountain range in the shape of its moniker—the Pyramid. It was not easy to see. Painted blue, it blended into the sky. Large white satellite dishes clustered nearby. Most denizens had assumed they were for tele-communications: phone, cable services, radar, whatever.

Sam turned on the radio for news about the Winter Olympics. Instead, a funeral dirge was broadcast. Then the lead story: Soviet leader, Yuri Andropov, had died. He had only served a little more than a year after succeeding Leonid Brezhnev.

There goes another one of the old guard from “The Evil Empire.”

Sam’s thoughts wandered to President Ronald Reagan as she turned off the freeway onto one of the roads into Santa Vittoria. When Reagan had used the term, Evil Empire, in a speech a couple years ago, he had gotten much flak from the press.

https://youtu.be/M0NXs_uWPgg?si=nLK-Ty2QVtKwO29m

But Reagan’s defense build up to defeat communism was one of the reasons Sam had secured a job at the S*T*C.


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Sam makes it to that summer of 1984 when the Olympics come to Los Angelas as well as the coast of California.

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Chapter 41

By the end of July, the nude pictures of Miss America 1984 were all over the news. Now, the first African American Miss America, Vanessa Williams, had made another first. The first Miss America to resign, less than a week before the 1984 Olympic Games came to Los Angeles.

https://youtu.be/MiLKTf9Hsmg?si=Tmg5oq0K_wgXeEMT

Hmmm.” JC perused his newspaper. “Vanessa, the Undresser.”

He raised his thick brown eyebrows as he surveyed his crew. “Now, that’s something I’d love to see, boys. A naked Miss America.”

Ivan, working swings the next few weeks, looked over JC’s newspaper article and shrugged. “But you’ll have to wait for the September issue of Penthouse to see her with her clothes off.”

Well worth the wait.” JC leered. “God bless America.”

* * *

Four years ago, President Jimmy Carter had pulled the Americans out of the 1980 summer Olympics in Moscow in reaction to the Russians invading Afghanistan.

Tit for Tat. The Russians had backed out of the 1984 summer games in the United States. For safety reasons, they said.

Though Los Angeles was the venue of the finals, some preliminary games were scheduled along the West Coast. And some were in the valley.

https://youtu.be/LmoLlEEwBhc?si=4ZDXpJ2jYAzasQ-k

NADS senior analysts, mostly Jeff Ritter, Virgil Kingman, and Rich Kerry, had rounded up some tickets for the crew—for the Olympic soccer quarter-finals.

Sam wanted to go with them. So, she struck a deal and offered her pickup truck to carpool from work to the games.

* * *

After CSC had offered Sam a job last winter, she and Jim could not easily get by with just one vehicle. She needed the pickup truck to get to the S*T*C on the mountain. Therefore, Jim had gotten an old gas guzzler, dirt cheap, for himself. But the other day, he bought a used 1976 Honda motorcycle for a cheaper and more fun commute.

You’re not coming with us?” Sam frowned at Jim the evening before the big game. “These are the Olympics, for cat’s sake.”

I don’t like big crowds.” Jim was firm. “But feel free to see your silly game with your coworkers.”

And I will.” Sam squinted at him. “But what will you do?”

I’ll go for a nice little ride on my new motorcycle.” And he was itching to try this baby out.

* * *

Some F1 analysts gathered in the S*T*C parking lot after day shift.

Sam looked at Enrique. “So, you’d rather see Revenge of the Nerds instead of the Olympics? Which comes once in a lifetime?”

https://youtu.be/Hw6zrInbtQE?si=RdeDsYV-ZGLAudnY

Sorry guys.” Enrique shook his head. “Already got the tickets for me and my girl, Diane. I’d never hear the end of it if I stood her up.”

The guys returned catcalls.

Then Jeff said to Sam, “Let the nerd be with the nerds.”

Sam’s pickup could fit many in her truck bed. But she didn’t know how to get to the outdoor college stadium where the games would be held. So, she asked Virgil to drive. He knew the way.

Virgil at the wheel, Sam rode shotgun. Rich, Tan, Jeff, Austin, and others piled in the back. They picked up some sandwiches for dinner and souvenirs from the vendors. Sam bought a red, white, and blue headband with stars shooting out on springs.

Jeff laughed as she put it on her head. “You look like the Statue of Liberty. Just need that Olympic torch and toga, girl.”

The soccer match pitted Egypt against the United States. After the crew settled down in their seats, officials announced the start of the game, then a tape of the Olympic Anthem blared over the loud speakers.

Most cheered for the home team. When the crowd did an Audience Wave for the USA, the small piece of pie that did not stand was Egypt fans.

But the Egyptians showed much spirit. Across the stadium, all could hear their cheers between the blowing of ancient horns:

Egypt!” Toot! Toot! “Egypt!” Toot! Toot! ...

Sam spied the Egyptian flags striped with red, white, and black, centered with the golden eagle of Saladin. And other banners as well:

The Pyramids. Sphinxes. Mummies. The Nile.

Shouldn’t we be cheering for Egypt?” she teased. “We work in the Pyramid. And our call is NILE.”

Jeff shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, little lady.”

But hey. I’ve got the truck.” Sam smiled.

Virgil said to Jeff, “She’s got you there, JR.”

Rich Kerry chuckled. “Coming over here, I saw a bumper sticker on a convertible, driven by a cute girl. It said, If you’re RICH, I’m single.” Then Rich grew a grin. “I wanted to shout to her, I’m RICH.”

Virgil sniggered. “While riding in the back of a borrowed pickup truck? That’ll impress her.”

The crew from F Troop watched the game go on and on and on. There was a lot of running. Finally, both sides scored one point each. They ran and ran and ran until they ran out the clock. The game ended in a draw.

But it was the Olympics. It was 1984. Something Sam could talk to her mother about over the phone.

* * *

While his wife was at the Olympic soccer game, Jim Clark took off on his motorcycle for the Pacifica Mountains. His bike handled the curves up Mt. Nauseous very well.

But he was passed by another biker in black leather. A guy on a Harley, who rode like Evel Knievel.

Jim was too faint of heart to ride like that. He cared too much about his life and limbs and his wife and his cat. And he was over thirty.

* * *

Ivan the Terrible passed some nerd on a Honda as he wound up Mt. Nauseous. He was working swings and had been taking a long break in the valley, having dinner with his wife.

Then JC called Ivan. Their manager, Ed Pennington, had paid them a surprise visit in the S*T*C. JC told Ed that Ivan was working out during his dinner break. Then JC pretended to call the gym and called Ivan at home, while assuring Ed that Ivan would come up after he had showered and changed.

JC is a son of bitch. But he covered my ass and bought me some time.

No one liked a snitch.


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And that's the way it was back in 1984.

To learn more about a day in the life of a mission control team in the 1980s, please feel free to check out: 

S*T*C by S. K. Smith @ amazon.com

And tune in to the continuing drama...

As the Satellite Turns!

Your readership is appreciated.

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For more in this series, search blog:

STC - for S*T*C

Also 

CC1, CC2, CC3, CC4, CC5  - for The Commander and the Chief series

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Sunday, July 28, 2024

Americana (part 5) - From Cowboys to Cops



The American Cowboy

Many movies and TV shows, especially in the 20th century, romanticized the cowboy in westerns. 

One such:

Rawhide

Set in the 1860s, the trail boss, Gil Favor, headed the drovers of cattle as well as their adventures during the drive.  


And Rawhide's theme song echoes the drama of the show as well as the era in American history:


Sadly, the star Eric Fleming, who played Gil Favor, came to a tragic end, drowning in Peru while making High Jungle, an adventure program. Hence the tribute at the end of the clip.


But one of the young cowboys in the ride was the impetuous Rowdy Yates played by Clint Eastwood.


And Clint Eastwood would move on from TV to the big screen, in which he made many cowboy movies. Among them, the Spaghetti Western: A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.


Clint Eastwood would star not only in many other westerns but also other genres as well, such action thrillers. One such character:

The American Cop

Homicide Division Inspector, "Dirty" Harry Callahan, of the San Francisco Police Force, not only fought crime, but the corrupt system, the enemy within. And it became the film series:

Dirty Harry


First movie in the series was based on the Zodiac killer, unsolved to this day. 

reference: Dirty Harry (1971)

Classic opening scene from Dirty Harry:




Four more Dirty Harry sequels followed, including Sudden Impact (1983):


And that film opening scene gave us the catch phrase:

Go Ahead Make My Day

Clint Eastwood contributed to the icons of the American Cowboy and Cop, a slice of Americana.

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For other posts on this thread, search:

Americana

Nostalgia

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Photo: The Herd Quitter











 

Tuesday, June 25, 2024

America's Story (part 23) - Countdown to 250!

 


July 4, 1776

The United States of America was born on that date, recognized as the signing and final approval of the Declaration of Independence.

One of its most well-known statements:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

And the signers ended this declaration on a solemn note:

And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

The anniversary of this quarter of a millennium milestone is coming up in two years: 

1776 to 2026

Countdown to 250 years!

And many across America are preparing for this celebration....


https://youtu.be/e0TxB7g4jT0?si=FmaJFsT4RMmAUyah

For more information on the big 250: America 250

Since 1776, America grew and met many challenges. Who are we as a people? Some have tried to answer that best in poetry and song:

I am the nation


https://youtu.be/Fw4Z6Hdxyo0?si=VufZN5v2bl4AUBL3

John Wayne has been seen as a personification of America throughout her evolution. 

For more information: John Wayne: Icon Of America's Booming Confidence

And in 1970, John Wayne and other well-known celebrities of the 20th century ended their show of American History with this patriotic song:


https://youtu.be/JnPbhbluS6Y?si=bATJzXLdXOFOcQad


Happy Birthday, America

as we countdown 

to her 250th!

And 

God Bless America!

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For other posts on this thread, search:

America's Story

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Photo: Declaration of Independence/wkipedia.com



 

Wednesday, May 15, 2024

CC4 (part 4) - Shakespeare in Rainmaker Park

 



Shakespeare

The English-speaking world owes much to the works of William Shakespeare. His contributions were not only in literature with his plays and sonnets, but also in language with idioms and new words.

For example: Shakespeare's Words   Idioms


For over 400 years, his plays have been performed in many different venues and media as well as spun into various adaptations.

Actors, though, have some superstitions about saying the name of "that Scottish play"

Macbeth

It's humorously explained below:


As for venues, one favorite is Shakespeare in the Park.

That is the setting for one of the chapters:

The Commander and the Chief series:
Book 4 - Rainmaker:

Cold cases, Cold War relics, revenge served cold.
All spark fires of biblical proportions that only a Rainmaker from heaven can quench.

Available on Amazon.

The Old World meets the Wild West in the 21st century when the Commander with his family and the Chief fly in from across the pond for Fourth of July celebrations in Hanging Tree, Wyoming.

The Commander's parents, the Duke and Duchess of Yorkchestershire, and his older brother Sir Bobby are asked to perform samples of Shakespeare's plays in Rainmaker Park in Hanging Tree. 

That's between recitations of Cowboy Poetry and the Coyote Calling Contest.

The chapter starts as Bill Clark, the mayor, introduces the royal actors to an audience in the Wild West.


Part 4

Chapter 4

All the World’s a Stage

After intermission, Bill Clark took center stage, again.

“Cowboy Poetry was just the warm-up, folks.” Bill rubbed his hands together. “Now, for the main event. Shakespeare in the Park. And we’re so fortunate to have the Duke and Duchess of Yorkchestershire and their eldest son Bobby Barrett…veteran of the London West End Theater.”

The crowd chanted, “Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! ...”

“The Duke, you say?” Bill looked off-stage. “Then let’s bring out The Duke.”

A stage hand retrieved a larger-than-life cutout of John Wayne, dressed as the quintessential American cowboy, slinging a gun.

“It’s The Duke, folks.” Bill opened up his hands, seeing many blank faces. “You asked for him by name.”

Pete Parker called out, “Not many remember John Wayne, Mayor. Especially the young’uns.”

“But us old timers do,” yelled another. “Like the Mayor says. He’s The Duke.”


“Without further ado, from across the pond, here’s the royal Barretts.” Bill made his exit, taking the John Wayne cutout with him. 

Then the Duke and Duchess and their elder son Bobby minced onto the stage. All were dressed in Elizabethan style costumes. 

The father and son looked dashing. Tights. Codpieces. Ruffs. Pumpkin pants. Thigh high leather boots. And capes draped over half their shoulder.

“I am the Duke,” Sir Robert’s voice boomed. “The real Duke.”

“Naw. The real duke’s John Wayne,” said an old timer.

“Bloody Americans,” Sir Robert mumbled under his breath. Then he affected his thespian face. “I’m pleased to introduce my lovely wife, Her Grace Regina Barrett, the Duchess of Yorkchestershire.”

Regina donned an elegant green Elizabethan dress. Train. Puffy sleeves. Red hair covered by a wimple. She returned a graceful curtsey.

Then Bobby added, “Mother will perform a scene from that Scottish Play.”

“You mean Macbeth?” Regina smiled at Bobby.

Bobby and Sir Robert stepped to the edge of the stage and performed a strange exorcism. Both turned around three times, spit over their left shoulders, then quoted from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice: 
Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you.

“Actors are superstitious.” Sir Robert looked over the puzzled audience. “It’s bad luck to say the name of that Scottish play. Being so dark and bloody as it is.”

“What was it now?” Regina asked. “Macbeth?”

Bobby and Sir Robert repeated the exorcism: Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you. And the Barretts slipped out the word Macbeth a few times, followed by the exorcism, ensuring laughs.

Then Sir Robert said, “Now on with that Scottish play.”

“You mean Macbeth?” Reggie shouted from the audience.

“Enough, Reginald,” said Bobby. “Mummy’s up.”

Sir Robert explained, “In Act Five, Scene 1, Lady Macbeth—Oh, damn. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you. The Lady is sleepwalking after murdering the King of Scotland.”

Regina stepped about, rubbing her hand:

“Out, damned spot! out, I say!
One: two: why, then, ’tis time to do’t.
Hell is murky!
“Here’s the smell of the blood still: 
all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. 
Oh, oh, oh!...”

Lady Macbeth’s monolog finished. The Barretts regrouped. And Sir Robert with Bobby stepped out for a later scene.


Bobby, as Seyton, spoke: “The queen, my lord, is dead.”

Then Sir Robert as Macbeth responded:
“…
Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
…”

The three Barretts bowed to enthusiastic applause at the end of their selected scenes from that Scottish play. 

Macbeth.

* * *

In the audience, young Robert sat down beside Reggie. “May I have a word with you?”

“What’s troubling you, son?” Reggie asked.

“Uncle Nick.” Robert’s eyes darted about. “He’s carrying a gun.”

“Of course. He’s a bloody American.” Then Reggie chortled. “You’ve spent last summer working here on the ranch and just figured that out? Americans in these parts have a slobbering love affair with their guns.”

“But he just had a chat with me about Sophie.”

“Yes, yes. Old Nick’s not blind. You’ve been smitten with your American cousin since the day you joined her Orlovic Pride on the catty thing.”

“Kitty Chat.” Robert continued, “Uncle Nick told me he’s happy I’m seeing Sophie. But if I hurt her…ill-treated her in anyway, he’d shoot me. Then he patted his gun.”

“And he meant it, too.” Reggie raised his eyebrows. “If it’s any consolation, Old Nick had the same chat with me about Nova when we first met. Two years ago. At John Wayne Airport in Pasadena.”

“Father?”

“Relax.” Reggie put his arm about his son. “Deep down Nick’s a decent bloke. He told me, after the Admiral was killed, Nova had been quite depressed. He worried about her. And now he sees she smiles a lot. He knows I’ve made her happy again. And he’s glad I’m part of the family. And I’m glad he’s my brother-in-law. For I know he’ll always have our back, son.”

* * *

Next skit, Bobby Barrett strode on stage. “Now for some Hamlet. A line by line translation of Hamlet’s eulogy. Elizabethan English to American. In Act 5, Scene 1, Hamlet speaks to his friend Horatio. After the gravedigger unearths some human remains.”


Bobby looked into the audience. “Ready, my dear?”
 
Tina Dahl lifted up the plastic skull. “Behold Yorick, the king’s jester.” 

“His name’s Spike,” said a wag from the audience. 

“Incoming.” Tina tossed the skull.

Bobby caught it and looked intently at it. “Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.”

To the audience: “He was rip roaringly funny.”

To the skull: “He hath borne me on his back a thousand times, and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is!”

To the audience: “He gave me a lot of piggy back rides in his day.”

To the skull: “My gorge rises at it.”

To the audience: “I think I’m going to puke.”


Bobby finished the scene after many laughs. Then threw the skull back to Tina. And gave the audience an exaggerated bow. The crowd returned applause and whistles. 

Bobby loved it. He was in his element.

The final skit of the set, the crowd chanted, “Duke! Duke! Duke! Duke! …” And Sir Robert strode on the stage like it was his world.

“This Band of Brother’s speech is from Henry V,” Sir Robert’s voice boomed out. “It’s set on the Eve of Saint Crispin’s Day. The eve of the Battle of Agincourt in the year of our Lord, 1415. Indeed, this would be a great victory for England and immortalized by our Bard as the St. Crispin’s Day Speech.

“In this scene, Westmorland informs the King that the English are greatly outnumbered. But the King urges his men to give it their all and fight the bloody French anyway.”


So Sir Robert as Henry V recited the King’s speech:

“My cousin, Westmorland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark’d to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.


“And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, 
we band of brothers—”

Then explosions burst a block away. And rockets streamed in the sky.


The audience thought it was part of the act and applauded wildly with wolf whistles.

Sir Robert snapped open his eyes. He had not finished the scene. But he went with it and graciously bowed.

“Nice touch, dear,” Carol said to Bill Clark backstage. “Adding the fireworks.”

Bill returned a puzzled look. “I didn’t call for any fireworks.”

Finally, it sunk in as the explosions got more intense, more frequent.

“It’s an attack,” yelled someone from the crowd. “Remember that wedding at The Chief’s Lodge!”

There were shrieks. People ducked under tables and hit the grass and pavement. Others pulled out their guns. And Bill Clark whisked Sir Robert off stage.

It was déjà vu all over again. 

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And that's only the beginning of the fireworks.

Please continue reading for what happens next in Rainmaker, available on Amazon.

All published books (paperback, Kindle, Kindle Unlimited) of The Commander and the Chief series are linked as a set on amazon: The Commander and the Chief series

Your readership is appreciated.

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For more in this series, search blog:

CC1, CC2, CC3, CC4, CC5, CCx
The Commander and the Chief series

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Photo: Shakespeare in the Park/wikipedia