Princess Diana Memorabilia

The Cincinnati Museum Center is currently the home of a traveling exhibit on the life of Diana, Princess of Wales. The wife has shown some interest in attending, and I have to admit a bit of curiosity myself.

After all; I was there. I was in England during the public courtship and marriage of the Prince and Princess of Wales. The TV was full of the courtship and the Wedding; you couldn't walk 10 feet anywhere with out bumping into someone selling souvenirs. And this was 70 miles away.

In the City of London you literally could not move. the short stroll from the tube station to anywhere; normally a 10 minute walk was now an hour. The whole country; Hell; the whole world turned out in London for the Wedding of the Century.

I admit I bought a few souvenirs. A vendor had set up a stall in the Lobby of the NCO Club, and she was rather persistent. And attractive. Okay; she was attractive and I was the persistent one. At any rate, during the course of 20 minutes I wound up with 3 plates, guaranteed to go up in value. The whole Wedgwood Pottery thing, very collectable. It was a good spiel.

And they were collectable. Until the Divorce of the Century. D'oh! I thought future Kings couldn't do things like that?

Okay; bury these 'priceless' things in the attic; maybe one day they will be worth something again.

And now we are in 2014. The interest in Diana seems to be peaking again. Let's take a look; see if these old relics are worth anything.

 Well; they are worth something. Depending on the seller, less  than what I paid for them in real dollars 33 years ago, or what I did pay for them without an adjustment for inflation; about 10 bucks each. Persistent and attractive remember?

Stuff 'em back in the attic; maybe they'll be worth something in another 35 years.

Music Makes The World Go Around

 Have you ever given much thought to music?

Today we don't have to; drag out the iPod; pull up a song. Don't like it? Dump it and pull up another. But that technology, through the iPod, is just over 10 years old. MP3? About 20.

Before that we had Tapes; Cassette; Reel to Reel and 8-Track. And of course before that albums and 45s. Or 78s. Or even further back, wax cylinders.

Before that? All music was live.

We have become accustomed to music being a constant soundtrack to our lives; our MP3 players; the radio or CD in the car; muzak piped in the stores and elevators; even coming through our TVs through the miracle of cable. Pandora coming through your flippin' cell phone!

Less than 100 years ago it wasn't so easy. You want a tune? Whistle it. Or Hum it. Or know somebody who who can play it on some instrument or the other. Sure; you could buy a Victrola in 1913; for $75.00. When the average year's salary was $1300. Two weeks pay; give or take a couple of hours. Plus records at a buck or so each. That one song would lose it's novelty real quick.

Dances in the rural areas were a godsend; a reason to get together and music to boot, provided all of the members of the band could get together.

You think a barbershop quartet sounds goofy? Compare it to no music at all. Sounds pretty good now, don't it? Ever wonder why you always see Uncle Ed with his guitar in old family photos? Because he brought the music.

Stop and think for a minute about how dependent we are on electrons for music today, and how few folks play an instrument. Every high school had at least one band back in the day. The official one that played at football games, and there were always 4 or 5 guys banging around in somebody's garage or basement, hoping to play the school dance some Saturday night.

There was also a community to be had when a band got together and a dance was in the offing.

Something that's hard to achieve with a pair of earbuds.

Stirring Up Some Old Memories

According to BING, today is the 50th birthday of the Petrified Forest National Park. Well; Happy Birthday.

Somewhere I have a picture of me, my sister and our Dad in the Petrified Forest. We're sitting on a log about 8 feet long and maybe 30 inches in diameter. I'm about 4; Sis is 3 or so. Dad is wearing a cowboy hat. That hat is still in the family. It is a white Stetson, and I don't think Dad ever wore after we left Texas a few days later. But he kept it for the next 40 years, hanging off of a basketball trophy on his chest of drawers.

Back in the 60's real Stetson cowboy hats were kinda rare in our part of Kentucky. So, when a local theater group did a production of Oklahoma!, Dad's hat did a star turn on the head of Curly. We got free tickets to the show.

But, I digress.

The visit to the petrified forest was on the return leg of our California trip. A real Vacation trip that took us through Denver to Los Angeles and Disneyland, then up the coast to Knott's Berry Farm and San Francisco, then home the southern route through Arizona, for the Grand Canyon, and Texas. One Day I am going to do a series of posts on that trip. I just have to figure out who has the movies.

My Mom's Dad was on the trip with us, and took hundreds of feet of film from Cincinnati to LA and back, some of it with the hood ornament of our '55 Oldsmobile figuring prominently. Dad had the super 8 footage converted to video tape years ago, and I think my brother had it converted to DVD a few years later. As soon as I figure out who has the movies, I'll rip 'em to my computer and post pieces in the blog.

Our trip wasn't as exciting as the trip the Griswolds took 20 years later, and Disneyland was open when we got there, but I can still remember bits and pieces almost 50 years later.

I have to confess; the primary memory I have of that trip is the smell of hotel rooms. A combination of cleaning fluids and air conditioning, that smell remains with me today for some reason. I associated that smell with air conditioning for years; that trip was the first time I remember spending a considerable amount of time in cooled air.

Amazing what will impress itself on the mind of a 4 year old, isn't it?

Family Lore Turns Into Official History

My Grandfather on my Dad's side was a United States Marine.

Family lore was always that he had done his basic at Paris Island and was then sent off to the Dominican Republic. This was the lore. Now I have the proof.

Ancestry.com is a wonderful resource. I have been using it for years in my genealogy research. Recently they added more military records to their resources, including the muster rolls for the Marine Corps.

Based on these monthly records I was able to reconstruct Grandpa's entire military career. Well; almost. There are a few months missing; I just need to figure out how to find the missing months.

These records are interesting, even without the family connection. They list every Marine in the Corps, by unit and by rank alphabetically. The sole identifier, after their name, was their muster date in this period. Typewritten, they contain small details, like when they were transferred in and out, and if the Marine has gotten into trouble, requiring a reprimand and/or loss of pay. 

As it stands now:

Enlisted in on June 16, 1918 to Company X, Marine Corps Barracks, Paris Island, South Carolina; one of 396 Privates in the company, noted without comment.

On July 8, 1918 he was assigned to 3rd Regiment, US Marines, Santo Domingo City, Dominican Republic, along with quite a few of his Training Company.

He arrived in Santo Domingo on July 22, 1918, sailing on board the USS Hancock, and became part of the 44th Division, 3rd Provisional Regiment, 2nd Brigade, USMC.

August is interesting. The muster list for the 44th only list those Marines that were being punished for some transgression, were sick or had died. Several of the Marines died from 'incised wounds in the skull'. But no reference to Grandpa; thankfully.

In September he spent the 26th to 30th "in field, in Providence of Santo Domingo".

I checked October pretty thoroughly, and could not even find a reference to the 44th Division; maybe the records are incomplete? I did not look at every one of the 480 some pages, so I may have missed something. Still; are the records complete? Hard to say.

The next record is January, 1919, where the record indicates he spent the entire month "in field in Providences of Macoris and Seibo, DR".

Next record is April of 1919, again with no comment.

Then comes July of 1919, that contains a rather (for these records anyway) lengthy comment:
"22 participated in an engagement with native bandits at Plata de la Palma, DR. 25 transferred to Barracks Detachment per Regimental transfer order 92, dated July 25, 1919".

There are two records in August of 1919. The first is from the Barracks Detachment, Third Provisional Regiment, Santo Domingo City, DR: "7-transferred to US on USS Kittery".

The second is from the Barracks Detachment, Marine Barracks, Charleston, South Carolina: "14- disch. (discharge) by S.O. (special order) of the MSG (unknown; Marine Strike Group?). Char. (character) 'Excellent'." Basically, he was involved in a battle with the bandits they were in the Dominican Republic to fight, and 3 days later was sent back to Headquarters and rotated back to the States for discharge.

Total time in service: June 16, 1918 to August 14, 1919; just shy of 14 months.

Also according to family lore there were only a few things that could be saved from the family home in Newport before it was flooded in the Flood of January, 1937, and two of the things Grandpa saved were his Marine Corps uniform and discharge papers.

Interestingly enough, as near as I can tell there were only two Marines in the 1918-1919 period with my Grandpa's name; the other mustered in in April of 1917, and spent his time in France.

Lots of questions answered, but like with any good mystery, more questions remain. What was Special Order 92? What does MSG mean? Strike Group is a fairly modern term, so I doubt it is correct. And why are there months missing?

I just wish I would have been able to have this done a couple of weeks ago, for Veterans Day.

A Time Capsule

Well, you know how I love history, and how I am a woodworker when I have the chance.

Check out this article that captures both interests. Absolutely fascinating.

Imagine this shed has been more or less caught in a time capsule for almost 150 years.

It is a great thing it is being preserved.

65 Years Ago Today

Howard Hughes flew The Spruce Goose, as my Bing homepage reminds me.

And then paid to keep it flight ready for the 30 years, even though it never again left the hanger. The longest trip it ever took was when it was moved to Oregon when Disney bought its hanger and sent the non-profit that owns it an eviction notice.

And yet, it is probably one of the most famous planes from the post war period. People who couldn't name another aircraft since the Wright Brothers know of the Spruce Goose. Well, that's to be expected; there is a lot of plane to capture the imagination.

When the average plane held 2 dozen the Goose was designed to haul 750. It was designed to capture the imagination; and it did. It still holds records for tallest, longest wingspan and only misses being longest by a few feet.

That's probably why it still draws attention, even in the age planes that size being common the Goose is one of the largest planes in the world. And it is built out of plywood.

Plywood was an unusual material for an aircraft even at the time. But the government wanted to save the aluminum for fighters and bombers; so plywood was used.

There has been argument since the beginning about the viability of the design, a design Hughes backed fully. Which is why it had to make that one flight; just to prove Hughes right.

I Have a New Hero

102 years old, and still drives.....

Her 1930 Packard. 3 speed unsynchronized transmission, no power steering, no power windows.

My new hero.

I wonder if she has a Great-Granddaughter my age?

Be Different

I found this through Bing this morning. Hundreds of pictures of people holdiong up the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Now I know what to do the next time I'm in Pisa.

Take my picture with the Leaning Tower.

But I'll be pushing it over!

Cars I Have Known VII

Here is one of those apparent good deals that requires close study. I know what this guy is talking about, Been there, done that.

Well, still doing that actually. Several years ago a guy offered me a 1988 Mercedes 190e for 300 bucks. I thought it was a steal. It was only after a few repairs that i found out which one of us was the actual thief.

Don't get me wrong; it is a fantastic car. It'll hit 70 in a heartbeat, rides like a cloud and still has some sport manners in the corners. But it has..... ISSUES. Some are because it is 24 years old. Some seem to be designed in.

Like the fuel pump relay. The electric fuel pump will quit randomly, and usually at the most inopportune time. Usually where there is no where to pull over and you have a line of cars behind you. It is a simple fix. Open the hood; pull the cover off of the relay housing; pull the fuel pump relay; jump pins 3 and 8; replace the relay; start the car; replace the relay cover, close the hood. Except sometimes you have to repeat steps 3-6, as the car won't start the first time.

So why not just replace the relay? Because the problem could either be the fuel pump relay or a separate relay that controls voltage to the automobile. each relay is $120, and I have a problem throwing $250 at a $300 car. Luckily I am still finding a few of them in the junkyard. So between finding used parts cheap and doing the work myself I have been able to keep it going.

But I can see where paying somebody to maintain an old MB can bet expensive. Parts are available to repair almost every aspect of the car. But those parts are expensive, and a good MB mechanic is at least $75 an hour. You can count on dropping a grand each and every trip to the shop. If you have that kind of money, paying somebody else to keep your old car on the road may be worth it.

But you can easily see how a car that a few years ago sold for 50k new, is now worth $300; if you can get it.

The picture is not my 190e, but mine is red. And I think it is that red color that has attracted the attention of the local constabulary.

I have been stopped by police exactly 4 times in the last 20 years. All four times I was driving the 190e. all four times I got a ticket for not wearing my seat belt. All four times it was the same cop.

Yep; driving a Red Mercedes can get expensive.

Well, You Start Here, and Then Go There, And Then...

I have blogged before about how one thing leads to another. Train of thought- pun intended. Well; I'm doing it again.

Today I was reading a legal description for a piece of property in Fayette County Kentucky, and part of the property ran along side of the tracks for the CNO & TP Railroad.

The what? I asked myself. What was the CNO & TP Railroad? Well, It is the Cincinnati- New Orleans and Texas Pacific Railroad. Formed in 1869, it is wholly owned by the City of Cincinnati. The only intercity railroad owned by a municipality. Ain't that a kick in the head? There is a lot more information at the link, But apparently the line has a certain amount of notoriety to rail buffs, or as they are sometimes called, Foamers. That is an interesting story in its own. Do an internet search for Railroad Foamer video.

But, I digress.

I was doing a little more searching, looking for more info on the CNO & TP RR (TP; Considering Cincinnati's Procter & Gamble, a TP railroad kinda makes sense) I found another page, NKY Images; full of hundreds of old pictures, including some on the now familiar CNO&TP RR.

Including one old newspaper article about a car on the railroad tracks of the CNO&TP. The things you can find on the internets!

What is really interesting about this article is that it talks about the horseless carriage killing the horse, and now it's setting its sites on the Iron Horse. That was truer that anybody in 1924 knew, I would suspect. Not that personal cars would soon rule the railroads, but there is a technology hidden under the hood of this vehicle that is 80 years ahead of its time for cars, and 30 years to early for the railroads. This thing is a hybrid.

And, it wasn't the first one. There is a hybrid manufacturer even older. Back to my old friend Jay Leno's Garage, and his Owen Magnetic.

This was the technology that did kill the Iron Horse Steam Locomotive. All modern locomotives are diesel electrics; the drive wheels are each driven by an electric motor, and the electricity is created by a diesel powered generator; just like in a modern hybrid, and in our early iron wheel automobile.

Another thing too, while I am on this newspaper article. I love the way it is written. If newspapers were written like this today they might still be making money. Which reminds me; the money line in the article: 'by an over enthusiastic devotee of Bacchus'.

The author used this line, knowing that most, if not all, of his readers would know who Bacchus was. I'll bet you could read this article to an honors English class in any high schools and they would not be able understand a significant portion of it.

Yet in 1924, this was puff piece.

Yeah; we have come a long way.

A Run Down Nostalgia Drive

I have directed folks to James Lileks' site before. And after today, i will probably do it again. If you can't find something on his site to interest you, go ahead and shut off your internet.

He has a whole section on old motels, illustrated with postcards from the '50s to the early '70s. You know back in the day when an independent roadside motel could still make a living with a couple of dozen rooms. And a pool. Had to have the pool.

What amazes me about these postcards are the cars parked around the motels. Cadillacs, Lincolns, Thunderbirds, Oldsmobiles and Buicks. All clean and shiny.

So, here is my question:

Did the folks who owned the motel wait until they had a collection of good-looking, expensive cars in the lot, and then tell 'that photographer feller' to come quick, or did they arrange with every friend they had with an expensive car to show up on photo day?

Or, did the photographer arrange for the fancy cars, knowing that in a couple of years the picture would be dated, and they would need to have it retaken?

Either way, I just find it interesting that in none of these shots is anybody traveling in a 10 year old Chevrolet station wagon.

The picture above is from the site, and I swear this place looks familiar. we drove to Disneyland when I was a kid- that entire trip is the subject of a series of future posts- and we spent the night in Colorado.

I could be wrong, but you never know.

Well, You Didn't Hear it From Me

So yesterday I went to a family reunion and had a great time.

Listening to the old family stories and jokes; looking at the old pictures and eating watermelon.

The best part?

It wasn't my family.

I have a a long standing commitment to a work related extra curricular, and yesterday part of my job was to attend another family's reunion.

Obviously I can't say too much, or go into too much detail, but it was a great time. I found out some fantastic information to help with my project and met some absolutely fabulous folks.

And there something about being a relative outsider at what is, very basically, a very insider function. It's not like they sell tickets to those things you know.

I was a very honored guest, and very honored to be that guest.

This is killing me. I hate having this 'secret life' that is incredibly interesting, and I can't (usually) talk about it.

I feel like I am in the CIA or the FBI.

Or maybe the Witness Protection Program.

But I swear you all will be on the mailing list when the book comes out!

Buffs don't take off. They scare the ground away.

I know I haven't posted much lately (lots going on; sorry), but I had to post this.

Found through Instapundit this morning, this article is a must read for all us old SAC warriors.

The headline is a comment on the article that was too good to pass up.

Especially if you have ever watched a B-52 take off.

This video is a little long, but is great to watch multiple BUFF's 'scare the ground away'

What Went Right, and What Hasn't

Take a good look at this picture from 1974; close to 40 years ago.

Back when most of us were kids. Or young teens.

Two things that stand out to me. One is how tall this thing is.

The other is that the playground surface is blacktop.

Remember those days? Running, Playing, Climbing Swinging, FALLING on the blacktop playground?

We did it everyday. For hours. I'm sure kids got hurt. Skinned knees and elbows; maybe even a broken arm once in a while. It was how we learned our capabilities, and our limitations.

Can you imagine erecting a public playground like today? First it would cost an arm and a leg to manufacture and install. If you could get zoning approval. And I don't even want to think about the legal fees.

But by God it was fun and exciting. Part of the fun was the risk. Part of the learning was the pain. Play was always about learning about how to deal with situations that came up in daily life. Working through differences of opinion, gracious winning and how it felt to lose.

You learned these things when you were 5 and 6. You learned about yourself; where your talents were. And where they weren't. You learned who could be trusted to keep a bargain, and who couldn't. In those days you expected to stay within a few miles of where you grew up, and expected to be dealing with these same folks for the rest of your life. Everything I know about life I learned in kindergarten, right?

What are playgrounds like today? Everything is padded. Including the ground. Slides are enclosed, so you can't fall off and absolutely nothing to climb on that would put you more than a few feet off the ground.

And the helicopter parents; standing by to dust off butts and kiss any 'boo-boos' that the little darlin's might feel they got by falling 6 inches onto a rubber pad. And those are the 10 year-olds.

What kind of adults does this produce?

Three words:

'Occupy Wall Street'.

All I can hear when I hear an interview with one of those...... individuals is this:

"WAHHH! Mommy, life's not being FAIR!!!"

Sorry 'bout your luck kid. I found out life wasn't fair when I was 6, not 26.

By falling on a blacktop playground.

Back In The Day, I Could Afford a New Car

One of the things about a birthday is it kind of makes you nostalgic. I started thinking about some of the things I've had for years and some of the things I have lost over the years.

When I was 5 I got one of these from my aunt and Uncle for Christmas.

This thing was sweet: the wheels would turn and lock, so the car would make circles or go straight; it was motorized and would run at maybe 2 mph, and neatest of all, the headlights and taillights would light up through a fiber optic system from one bulb. And all this was in 1965!

When I was 11 we moved and I somehow lost track of where it went.

I'd almost give $100 for one.

But not quite; I ain't that nostalgic!

Watched Any Good Home Improvement TV Lately?

Something I noticed the other day was that although the cable channels like DIY and HGTV still air shows like Property Ladder and Flip This House, they aren't making any new episodes. Basically because there is no more money to be made in short term housing investment, as a rule.

Instead, what they showing as the new Get Rich Quick scheme shows? Have you seen the one with the two guys and a truck who roam the country grubbing around in old barns and dingy basements looking for semi-buried treasure?

What about the one (or two or three) about the guys who buy abandoned storage sheds and seem to make a fortune digging through cardboard boxes?

Or how about the one where folks bring their old junk to the pawn shop to try and make a few bucks?

Do you see the pattern here?

Instead of investing in junk houses to make a quick buck, now you invest in REAL junk to make a quick buck.

I don't doubt folks can do it, I just doubt any Joe off the street can walk into a barn full of junk, identify the diamond in the rough, buy it cheap enough to make a few bucks, and then find the buyer the current owner couldn't.

Take the guys on American Pickers. PLEASE! I love the show, hate the guys. I don't know whether it is their accents, their attitudes or the way they interact with each other, but I tend to watch AP in spite of the guys, not because of them. That being said, I completely respect the knowledge they have acquired over years of doing this kind of work. And not just in one or two areas of expertise, but several. They are passionate about the items, but dispassionate enough to assess both realistic value to a final consumer and to themselves in a purchase price.

And that is where I have my problem with these kind of shows. How many of us can separate ourselves from the things we are passionate about enough to be realistic about their real value?

As Shakespeare said it: 'Therein lies the rub'. I can see folks who will think they do what these ignorant guys on TV do, and spend a lot of time losing a fortune. Just because they are completely enamored with early 21st Century rustic pottery doesn't mean its worth a cart load to every body (or anybody) else.

Just like these same folks saw a show once on flipping a house that suddenly made them experts in the real estate market- just before the crash.

The problem is these shows don't show the years of bad decisions and self education that goes into making money off of junk. The learning, often the hard way, about what it costs to restore or rehab, or even properly clean an item. They tend to short change the hard work that goes into getting rich quick and easy.

I guess that is the problem I have with these types of shows in general. They minimize the work, and only show the glory. Which I can kind of understand.

Hard work doesn't make for good TV, does it?

I have to promote both a great post and a great blog for a minute; Sippican Cottage.

He makes furniture for a living and wordplay for a hobby; and does very well at both.

And he's right, you know.

My County just did the same thing.

Above is the Old Courthouse; built in 18 and 88. Full of marble and stained glass.

I can't find a picture of the new "Administration Building" on line. Spent millions of my dollars on the place and aren't proud enough of it to even post a picture.

Not that I blame them. It's a flat mess. They faced it North, on a one way street that heads North, so unles you twist in your seat like a corkscrew, all you can see is the back.

And that is concrete and dark windows, and not many of them.

The inside isn't any better. A two story lobby that is concrete and glass and stainless steel.

About as inviting as a cell block.

I can't imagine being forced to spend 40 hours a week in that soulless box.

Government buildings didn't leave the warm and comfortable behind by accident. It was done on purpose. What good is the Town Square, except to give folks a comfortable spot to sit and watch the courthouse and its goings-on?

Do you see the issue? Can't have folks keeping an eye on the government, now can we?

Best to drive them away, and allow the government to function away from prying eyes.

And Proclaim Liberty Through Out The Land

Everybody knows the Liberty Bell has a crack.

Have you ever thought about the crack as an analogy for liberty itself?

Perfect Liberty is flawed; just as the Bell is.

If we are allowed the ability to act freely, then we must take responsibility, and face the consequences of our acts. And some acts have severe repercussions.

And acts can’t be withdrawn. You can’t unring a bell; can you? (Come on; you knew I’d go there.)

Liberty is not perfect. We trade some liberty for security daily. The freedom to drive as we please is traded for the security of licensing and traffic laws. The absolute freedom of speech is traded for the security of false cries of ‘Fire’. Some liberties are curtailed; others lost completely, sacrificed on the altar of security.

Should we have perfect liberty? Could we handle it? Laws are passed that curtail one individual’s liberty, while granting extra liberty to others. Every smoking ban takes away the liberty of a property owner to do as he wishes with his property, while granting an extra liberty to those who abhor tobacco smoke.

Some merely restrict liberty and only grant a false sense of security; like gun control statutes.

So back to the Liberty Bell and its famous crack. The Bell swung free until 1846, when the crack rendered the bell useless as a free swinging bell. Since then it has only been tolled, or struck with out swinging. Prior to then it was rung on many occasions. But as the years roll on it has even been tolled less; usually on very special days.

Kind of like the way we treat liberty itself today. We drag it out and display the fact that we are free to do this or that, but fail to remember we once were able to this, that and the other thing, and that other thing besides. We don’t lament the liberty we have lost; only celebrate the small one we have left.

And we forget the wars that have kept that liberty safe for us. Maybe that is why we have lost the drive to protect our freedom; we look around and see so little of it left.

And Now Lets Look at the Tape

How I Spent My Afternoon

Late this morning we got buzzed by a B-17, flying low and slow. By the time I figured out what the noise was and got outside I just saw the last of it disappearing into the trees.

An hour later when It flew over again I was a little better prepared, and got a shot of the tail end, again just disappearing into the trees.

So this afternoon I decided to camp out on the back porch with the video camera. I would be ready.

The B-17 has to be my favorite WW-II bomber. I don't know why. Maybe it was its record for survivability; or maybe just the shear numbers of them produced. Maybe it is all the guns; leaving no corner unprotected.

They were unheated, unarmored and were shot down over Germany in surprising numbers; but it ain't just me; the B-17 has a massive fan club. I have to get a picture today. Video would be even better.

So for the last 3 hours I have sat on my back porch, jumping every time I heard what I believed to be the rumble of a multi-engined prop plane. The helicopter I jumped up for was not a rookie mistake. It was an old piston engined one, and the echo caused by the porch roof made me mistake it for B-17.

The old pickup without a muffler, coupled with the neighbor's air conditioner and the damned porch roof echo was an easy mistake to make too. Especially if you want it to be a Flying Fortress.

I know I heard it twice, flying just south of me and below the tree line. But could have been an echo coming up the river valley.

Pretty shortly I will need to go to get ready to leave for my Father's Day Dinner, and I still have got nothing to show for my afternoon's labors.

This is supposed to be MY DAY DANG IT!!!

I just need the rest of you to cooperate!

So, here I am finishing up this blog post when I hear the rumble I have been listening for all afternoon. I grab the camera and fly outside. YEP! There it is!

So the camera takes its sweet time to boot up, and I have trouble locating the plane in the sky. Then it goes behind one of my trees!

When it comes out the other side I am ready. I get some fine. long distance footge of her flying away.



And yes; I think it was worth it.

And BLOGGER ate my video!!!!!