Riding the NYC Metro subway system every weekday for three hours a day to and from college was tiring. It’s especially exhausting on that last leg home on the “D” train at night.
It was not uncommon for me to fall asleep in the subway as it jostled down the rails. The NYC Metro trains are not quiet like the Paris subway; they rattle and jar, jerk and screech. When the subway car was full, I would be standing near the doors. Nevertheless, on more than one occasion, I fell asleep standing up. Yup! I dropped my books and briefcase. A quick recovery couldn’t save the embarrassment.
Okay, so I tried to be clever and leaned against the doors one time so I wouldn’t get woken up. The doors usually opened on the other side since it was an express train. My plan usually worked, but not this time. The train pulled into a station and, BAM! The doors on my side opened. I was SO shocked! I ended up stumbling out of the train backwards onto the platform. Ugh, no luck.
Sometimes I would return home very late after drill practice and drinking games. The train would be empty, and I’d stretch out, super comfy. Too comfy, actually, because I’d miss my stop at Kingsbridge Road. I’d end up going a couple of stops further north to the end of the line at 205th Street. I’d wake up, stumble across the platform for the next train going south. Only two stops left, and guess what? I’d fall asleep again and miss my stop. Then I’d get off, cross the platform, and head north again. I totally lost count of how many times I missed Kingsbridge Road.
I should have stood up against the doors.
The last subway story is when they were not runny.
The NYC Metro was planning a system-wide strike on January 1, 1966. Since I didn’t want to miss classes, I made plans to stay with friends at school. I think my Mom and Dad brought me to Brooklyn after the holidays. I stayed in the dorms which were across the street from Pratt Institute in a 17-story apartment building. The strike lasted 12 days.
I only have 3 vivid memories of my stay at the dorms:
The Batman TV program premiered on January 12, 1966. The world stopped and our dorm mates congregated at the only TV on the floor. POW! BANG! Ka-POW!
I had to cram for a test.
I lied about living at the dorm so I could eat at the cafeteria for free.
Looking back, my military service is a collection of fond memories, unexpected detours, and one very specific silver-plated tray. It technically started in college at the Pratt Institute. I joined the ROTC for four years, and during the last two, the Army enlisted us and even gave us a small monthly stipend.
After my junior year, I was shipped off to a summer camp for 2 weeks with cadets from all over the country. It wasn’t quite as rigorous as enlisted Basic Training, but the Army instructors certainly enjoyed their hobby of pushing future officers to their absolute physical limits.
I survived, and at our final formation, I was actually called out of ranks to receive the Superior Cadet Award for my company. The prize? An engraved silver-plated tray that sits in my house to this day.
ROTC Cadet Di Santis
The Fork in the Road
Before graduation, the Army offered me a commission as a Second Lieutenant in the Regular Army. This was the serious career track with an indefinite commitment. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a “lifer,” so I politely declined and took a Reserve Army commission instead, which only required a four-year commitment.
There was a slight hiccup at the end of my senior year involving being short two credits for graduation (a long story for another time), but I received an Honorable Discharge from ROTC on September 15, 1969, and officially pinned on my “butter bars” as a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Army Armor Branch.
Next stop: Fort Knox, Kentucky.
The 52-Ton Portable Radio
I reported to the U.S. Army Armor School in October 1969. The nine-week training on M60 tanks is a bit of a blur, but I remember the “Big Three” courses: Communications, Automotive, and Gunnery.
Every instructor claimed their subject was the most critical. But let’s be honest—the Gunnery instructors won that argument. As they liked to remind us: “Without gunnery, you are just driving a 52-ton portable radio.” Ha ha.
I must have paid attention because I graduated on the Commandant’s List, placing me among the top officers in the class. I was even selected for an additional course on the latest high-speed light armored vehicle. I was on a roll.
The “Deal” of a Lifetime
It was 1969. The Vietnam War was ongoing. Just before graduation, the Army offered us fresh officers a deal: Sign a “Vol-Indef” (Voluntary Indefinite) contract, and you can pick your first duty assignment for 18 months.
The choice was essentially: Vietnam or… literally anywhere else?
I’ve never made a decision faster. I chose Germany.
Deutschland and the Mortar Surprise
I arrived in Erlangen, Germany, in February 1970, reporting to the 1st Battalion, 35th Armored Regiment, 4th Armored Division. I walked in expecting to command a tank platoon. Instead, they handed me the Mortar Platoon.
So, I did what any good leader does: I let my subordinates teach me. My “tutor” was a buck Sergeant (my forward observer). It was a crash course in humility. I was the “leader,” but they were the experts. It taught me a massive lesson: The best leaders are the ones willing to learn from the people they lead.
(Note: Amidst all this military shuffling, life happened. In March 1971, my eldest son, Peter, was born in Nuremberg Army Hospital!)
The “Second Scariest Thing”
By 1971, the Army was reorganizing. The 4th and 1st Armored Divisions were combined. My mortar platoon was mothballed, and I was moved to a cushy desk job as an assistant to the Brigade Commander. That lasted until the division decided, “Hey, let’s bring the mortars back!”
They assigned a new Lieutenant to the reactivated platoon, but tragedy struck when his father fell ill, and he had to return to the U.S. suddenly. The platoon was leaderless and scheduled for a massive Army Proficiency Test.
The Army looked at me—the guy at the desk who used to run mortars—and said, “You’re up.”
We loaded Jeeps and five modified armored personnel carriers, including one FDC (Fire Control Center) and four motorized mortars onto flatbed rail cars and took a train to the test grounds. (Best sleep I ever got was on that train). Since I had an authorized copy of the test, I gathered the platoon in a barracks room and we… let’s call it “aggressively reviewed” every single question.
The test included night firing, which is undeniably cool. One gun fires an illumination round (a giant flare) over the target area, and the other three fire for effect.
The Scariest Thing on a range is an uncontrolled explosion.
The Second Scariest Thing is a misfire.
We place a 25-pound mortar round in the muzzle, and it slides down the tube. It’s supposed to hit the firing pin and fly out at 800 feet per second.
Thunk.
Silence.
The round was stuck. 25 pounds of high explosives, just hanging out in the tube. As the leader, it was my job to fix it. The procedure? Kick the tube as hard as you can to jar it loose.
I made the sign of the cross. I kicked it. Nothing. I kicked it again. I started sweating bullets. Still nothing.
The next theoretical step was much more dangerous. With the help of my team, we had to gently lift the bottom of the mortar tube—which weighs about 100 pounds—high enough so gravity would slide the explosive round back out the top.
You can imagine the sound of metal-on-metal scraping as we lifted the tube. I was sweating profusely, my hands hovering over the muzzle, preparing to “collar” the live round as it peeked out. I successfully snatched the baby out of the tube, and the drama was over.
I remember silently cursing the Safety Officer, thinking, “That idiot didn’t check the round properly!”
Decades later, I realized the truth: The misfire was part of the test. The Safety Officer wasn’t an idiot; I was the one being tested. (We passed, by the way).
You Can’t Win Them All
We passed the mortar test, but my luck ran out later. I was assigned as Executive Officer (XO) of Company C. At the annual Tank Commanders’ Qualifying Course, a Commander was unavailable, and I had to step in.
I hadn’t been in Armor School for two years. I hadn’t trained with this crew. I was dropped into the tank cold, and frankly, we failed. I felt terrible for the team, but it was a reminder that you can’t fake proficiency in a 52-ton machine.
Tanks, Planes, and Broken Toes
I eventually made Captain and braced myself for my next assignment. I assumed I’d go stateside. Instead, the Army said: “Surprise! You’re going to Korea.”
Getting there was an odyssey. There were no direct military flights. I flew from New Jersey to California… zig-zagging across the US on a hospital air transport. From California, we stopped in Hawaii and Guam before finally landing in Seoul.
I was assigned to Camp Casey as the S1 (Personnel) Officer for the 1st Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division. It was familiar territory—paperwork and correspondence. But I did get out a bit.
The DMZ: I toured the border and visited the peace talk Quonset hut. I even stepped to the North side of the table for a photo op. Technically, I was in North Korea for about 15 seconds.
Tae Kwon Do: I trained three times a day. This ended after two incidents. First, my master kicked me in the chest, knocking me out cold. (When I woke up, I politely agreed he had scored the points). Second, he blocked my kick and broke my big toe. That was the end of my fighting career, but I did retire as a Green Belt.
Cards: When I wasn’t breaking bones, I was playing Pinochle or Bridge from Saturday noon until Sunday night.
DMZ PogotaCeiling of DMZ PogotaNorth Korean DMZ HQMe in North KoreaMy First Ever Selfie
The Homestretch
In 1973, the U.S. was withdrawing from Vietnam and reducing its forces. Despite my “Indefinite” contract, I was released from service early because—ironically—I still lacked that college degree (remember those two missing credits?).
I was discharged on September 8, 1973, after serving 3 years, 11 months, and 23 days of active duty (about four months of that in Korea), followed by two years in the reserves. I received an Army Commendation Medal and an Honorable Discharge.
The Bottom Line:
I was never in a combat zone. I never shot at anyone, and no one ever shot at me. THANK GOD.
I still wear a POW bracelet to this day. It serves as a constant reminder: Someone else saved my butt.
This is a podcast I heard recently, and it captivated my attention from the very beginning. I believe it is very relevant for this blog. It dives deep into themes that resonate with many families today. The researcher confirms what I have suspected. I have heard these things in stories about my parents’ families. The researcher weaves together personal anecdotes with scientific insights. These insights illuminate our shared experiences. This is something I want to share with my family. We do not see each other often enough. This gathering of narratives could serve as a bridge to bring us closer together. The wealth of knowledge shared in the podcast encourages meaningful conversations. It also prompts reflections that could enrich our understanding of one another. It was created by the Hidden Brain Staff. It was released on November 17, 2025. This makes it a timely piece that can spark dialogue in our own family discussions.
The link below is a simple YES/NO questionnaire, which will test your knowledge of your family. To fill in your blanks (or NO answers), some questions may be easy to ask. Others may be difficult based on circumstances. I am willing to answer questions for me to the best of my ability. Send your questions and they may be part of another blog post.
This post also presents a new opportunity. This is the first of my posts which includes audio. Do you have a story about our family you would like to share? If writing it feels daunting, just record it! Send it to me and I will post it here.
The Date: November 9, 1965. The Time: 5:27 PM. The Location: Somewhere in the bowels of the NYC.
NYC Metro Subway Map; My Daily Commute
The Alphabet Soup Commute
I know exactly what I was doing on that day and time. I will never forget it. But I’ll write it down for you. I was traveling from school to home on my daily commute. School was Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. My home was on East 195th Street in The Bronx. Usually, on the NYC Subway, it’s the “G” train South to the “A” train West to the “D” train North. It took about 1.5 hours one way. Not this Tuesday afternoon.
At 5:27 PM, the “A” train I was on came to a slow stop. It wasn’t like the screeching brakes were used as usual. Almost immediately, the small emergency 5 watt electric light bulb illuminated in our car. I had a seat with a friend and the subway car was not full. This happens from time to time and the train resumes travel quickly. Not today. It didn’t look like the train would get on it’s way anytime soon. People started moving to the front of the train. What’s going on? Where are they going? There were no announcements or warnings.
Only one way to find out. My friend and I got up and started walking to the front of the train. I’m thinking, “How are all these people fitting in the first train car?” They weren’t. They were leaving the train and we were not at a station yet. One of the two sliding doors at the front of the train was open. Passengers were exiting the train with the help of Metro personnel. My friend And I shuffled our way to the open door and left the train. Now what? In the dark!
Tunnel Vision
There were subway employees with flash lights but very little illumination from emergency lighting. From the train we stepped onto a narrow catwalk which ran along the tracks. And the adventure begins. I could barely see but we were about 50 yards from the next station. From the catwalk there was a short ladder to the tracks. Then, walk along the tracks until we got to the station. It was the West 4th Street station, under Greenwich Village. Passengers were queued up to climb the next ladder from the tracks to the station platform. My pal and I, young as we were, decided to hop up to the platform. Every turn and corner was barely lit. Now up to the street.
We followed other passengers up the steps to the next level where the turnstiles are positioned and tokens are sold. There, I noticed two immigrant women, dressed in black, on their knees, praying the rosary. “Holy Smoke! What do they know that I don’t?” I didn’t ask. The next flight of stairs brought us to the street.
Chaos?
Everything was still dark, except for the headlights of the passing cars and trucks. The street was alive with hurrying people. Traffic lights were out, yet young people, teens, were directing traffic with flashlights. It was an orderly chaos. We heard there was a massive power outage. Nevertheless, there was no panic or screaming except for fire and police sirens. All the buildings and streetlamps around us were dark.
We had to get home, but how? My pal lived in the Bronx as well, but a different neighborhood. It was at least 13 miles away. Trains were not available. Bus? I had no clue how to navigate the city by bus. Plus they were all full. Walk? Fat chance. Well maybe a slim chance. We decided to walk to the West Side Drive, about a dozen short blocks away. The best plan was to hitch.
Hitchhiking: The 1960s Uber
We didn’t have to wait long. Some nice guy stopped and we gladly jumped into a stranger’s car. He was going North and so were we. We got all the latest news from the car radio. Holy smokes! It was a huge mess. I noticed the lights on the Jersey side as we drove past the George Washington Bridge. New Jersey had lights too. Freaky. We continued to drive North into the Riverdale section of The Bronx. If we continued, we would be getting further from home. So our helpful stranger pulled off the highway to let us out. At this point my friend and I split up. He was closer to home than I was.
The Home Stretch (Literally)
I didn’t realize until recently that my trip home now would be another 4-5 miles. There were no other options than walk. I saw 1 bus, going in the wrong direction. I navigated as best I could by the main streets I knew and the elevated train routes. There was no Google Maps.
Walk, walk, walk. La-de-da. Walk, walk, uneventful walk. Neighborhood and streets began getting more familiar. I think I got home around 9:00 PM. My mom was glad to see me. My Dad was at work, kind of. His shift at the machine shop started at 5 PM. Lights went out around 5:30. He and his crew sat round for hours, getting paid, with nothing to do. The boss let the crew go at about 11 PM. The lights came on shortly thereafter.
Final Score:
Electricity: 0 New York Spirit: 1
What an adventure! Sorry, no pictures. They were all underexposed anyway.
I I first heard them in a German clock. Imagine my surprise, glee and shock. Cuckoos are a real bird. Just this evening I heard, They really exist yet do not flock.
II This long drink is the Original. This gin flavor is the typical. There are other flavors My taste does not waiver. The grapefruit is the traditional.
III The home cooked meal starts with a meat pie. It’s not home cooked and don’t ask me why. In the pie add nakki; Mustard is sin-appi. On this great Finn feast you can rely.
IV The temp was cool in the Lohja mine. Besides the quartz they still take out lime. We’re 100 meters down, Under the lake and town. Miners are at 300 full-time.
V This is a lesson on sandwich cake. It is not the type you have to bake. With two kinds of good bread, Veg ‘n egg in a cheese spread. It is easier than pie to make.
VI Today we watched five games of frisbee. It was on a beach near Helsinki. The games are very fast. They’re quick; they do not last. For me it would be very risky.
I We will travel again, what a shock!! It was too early to look at clock. The night was very short. Then drive to the airport. But then our breakfast was chips and guac.
II On board we met our traveling crew: Raisa, Penna, Kelly, and then Sue. We had a great dinner, Which won’t make us thinner. Then, to a bar for a drink or two.
III Today we started drinking at two. A Mixology class for a few. Gin, spirits and mixers, Liquors, fruits and bitters. We six, were a very lively crew.
IV Wow! What an exhausting vacation. We’re sailing from nation to nation. Some days we rest and rest, Or party with the best. It is always a great sensation.
V Big surprise, Grand Caymans sells no booze. Even on board, there’s none to choose. But we found a loophole, Which was good for the soul. Only three bars onboard had good news.
VI Fun Mexican cooking tour today. Main course was tilapia filet. First course was a shrimp, On a sope we crimped. Dessert was plantains. Yea!!
I We’re traveling east on IcelandAir To the country where summers are fair. First, two weeks in Finland To travel east inland. We’ll be traveling with family “Bear.”
II Helsinki A relaxing day at the hotel, Due to jet lag, wanted to rest well. Sit in our room to plan. Tuesday, see policeman To renew passport. It will be swell.
III The police station is very cool. We stood in line and followed the rules. They renew passports here. Their instructions are clear. All settled and we’re nobody’s fool.
I need a sim card for my cell phone, To “R-kioski” store we will roam. Online I couldn’t pay. In person, I will say, “I hope the cost is not overblown.”
IV Tonight we met Jussi and Anja. A lovely dinner and no drama. At Lucy In The Sky All was great, my oh my. We talked about travel and opera.
V At dinner with the Uusnakki clan We talked bout lots and my birthday lamb. Dinner this time we knew Would be equal to few. Meeting again next year is the plan.
VI Lappeenranta Tapani drove to Lappeenranta. In the back sat Anne and Erja. Empty road was magic, With no Russian traffic. We went to meet Pepe and Raija.
Lemin Särä was my birthday feast. It was a short trip coming from the east. Just potatoes and lamb. It was really moist . . . Damn!! Full bellies and no one was displeased.
VII Pepe and Raija had a great brunch For all six of us in our bunch. Then coffee at train station. A cute, old location. Left quickly ’cause the rain had a punch.
Small town, Hamina was the next stop. A small apartment, the backdrop. Visit godmother Miku. We stayed for just a few. Then off quickly to Lohja nonstop.
VIII
Lohja Today was a big cousins party. Silvonens didn’t party hardy. First, tour the large Manor. Two sisters were planners, Over 20 was the total body.
Pippa created a family tree. In Excel, she did it for free. It was 10 meters long. All correct, nothing wrong. Good family records are the key.
Iiro plays like he’s a mechanic. Under the car is very dramatic. He has all the right tools And he follows the rules. His methods are always systematic.
IX On the houseboat, it’s a cloudy day, Chilly, but better than yesterday. For Erja and I We cannot be shy We like this better than a workday.
Heading now Northwest into the sun. In the sky are some clouds almost none. The cabins by the shore Are hidden even more By the veil of light green natures done.
X
Helsinki Jaska, Tuija met us on Lohja. They’re very kind to drive us. Voila! We checked into hotel, To a room where we’d dwell. Then to dinner at “Olivia.”
XI Heidi and Juha met us for food. We all had fish and talked as we chewed. Anne got her passport Needed for next airport. She’s in great shape now for next trip, dude.
XII Tonight we went to a Czech restaurant. Good food that anybody would want. Our friends came from Espoo Just to meet this duo. Time with Katri and Tapsa was pleasant.
XIII
Lahti We boarded a fast train to Lahti. Anne’s wants to see everybody. Leena met us for lunch, And we talked a great bunch. El Toro steak was very hearty.
Samppa and Anne drove us around. My Anne’s house and both schools we found. Red Bull sponsored a race, Up the ski jump they chased. The great effort to climb was profound.
XIV
Helsinki We shopped for more chocolate and candy. The K-Market is very handy. One for me, two for you. For that we’ll take a few. All this shopping makes me quite happy.
The dinner at Notes was fantastic. The foods were all a Finnish classic. Mirja and Pauli We greeted them warmly And sat for an evening nostalgic .
XV
Espoo Sana and Jussi live in Espoo. With Adam, family is larger though.. Great reindeer stew was served And Adam we observed. He’s active and put on a good show.
XVI
Helsinki We met Liisa and Hugh at airport. On our way to Lisbon, check passport. When there, we got a car To Porto which is far. I cannot tell if it’s a seaport.
Porto Hotel was really hard to get to. Streets were narrow, for cars only two. Hotel in the middle of town. Many things upside down. Many plants sideways and the pool too.
Dinner at Wine Club was Portuguese. Empanadas, tuna, duck, Yes, please! The wine from the Douro Put on the greatest show. Later we had cake, Hugh, Liisa cheese.
XVII We walked for 2 hours in Porto. We had a hard time uphill also. We stopped for a short drink. We had to stop and think, We thought next time we’ll take an auto.
We all met for dinner at seven. The sea bass selected was heaven. Calamari was great. Then the peppers, no wait. But dessert was out of the question.
XVIII Yesterday, World of Wine was WOW. The wine info was great. Holy cow! Our lunch was amazing, Each dish we were praising. Then up the hill we go for port, now.
There was a short walk to see Taylor. A place to visit, the WOW neighbor. After the short intro, You got too much info. Thank goodness the tasting was later.
Dinner was a short walk from hotel. They were rated 4.9 as well. The menu was tapas. We made quite a ruckas. Just a few small bites and wine as well.
XIX We just sat on the deck and relaxed. Our long walking and moving was maxed. At Wine Club we had food. We enjoyed all we chewed. And 2 bottles of red wine we axed.
Douro XX We all celebrated Marinell. Being with our fond friends was just swell. Villa was more than fine. We all drank lots of wine. Food was great and the cod did not smell.
XXI We spent all Sunday at the best pool. The sun was hot and the water cool. We had gin and tonics, And tunes with harmonics. But the white cake and champagne did rule.
XXII Today we all watched the forest fires Under control by fire fighters. It will be a hot day, In the pool we will stay. We’re happy as pool noodle riders.
XXIII We all watched wildfires again today. They’ve been going since early Monday. The smoke was very thick. Stay inside was the trick Watch movies, the hours wile away.
XXIV Cleaning pool was on the agenda. Pro Angelo was the right fella. The men chatted with him As he vacuumed and skimmed The Mark and I fixed the umbrella.
XXV There once were four men in the kitchen. What they were cooking came from chicken. We all had eggs to eat It was a special treat. The clean up was done by the women.
We went to Covela winery All their wines were white; but not for me The firefighting planes, Then the passenger trains, And the river cruise ship added glee.
XXVI While most of the group were out to roam, Anne and I were in the pool at home. We all made leftovers, The roamers and loafers. It was the best must-go dinner known.
XXV Lisbon Drive to Lisbon on a narrow road. One lane, two cars, there’s no traffic code. Meet our friends at the pool. We eat at someplace cool. Great menu there and taste buds explode.
XXVI We had lunch at the Time Out Market. The cool wine shop was our first target. Three whites and two great reds Ham, and cheese with no bread. The bill was easy on the pocket.
Then we went to fabulous Pink Street. The party had music with a beat. We sat in a cafe Not very far away. The atmosphere was classic and sweet.
The waterfront was off the large square. There was plenty to see; we walked there. We sat for a short while And I said with a smile. How about another drink to share.
XXVII Too tired to write a rhyme today. From Lisbon to Boston on Wednesday. Eight hours gate to gate. Then a three hour wait. We’ll get home sometime early Thursday.
I We fly to the East for a party. The cell service may be somewhat spotty. We will not be on land, Because that is the plan. We’ll be at sea to party hearty.
II While we wait to board, we tour the town. With no car, it’s too far to downtown. We’ll visit Hoboken Where Sinatra is spoken With reverence and hollowed renown.
III We board after the 4th in Jersey For our wonderful 7 nite journey. Florida the first stop, Bahama the next hop. We’ll have lots of fun, don’t you worry.
IV Go for an anniversary cruise, Janet and Richard sing 50 year news. I was there at the start, They have nothing but heart. The Caribbean will have great views.
We sail with the family Surace. The ship is huge so we’ll have the space. Aunts and Uncles are there. And grandchildren to be fair. The memories will be hard to erase.
V The first day at sea was igniting. For slot pull, family was inviting. We all put in our cash And we didn’t lose our ash. We won double our bet. How exciting!
For dinner we dined on great sushi. We dressed up but my tie is goofy. Tonight was formal night, But my pants were too tight. Went to bed instead of a movie.
VI We took a Port Canaveral tour, Seafood tasting, Space Museum and more. It was too hot to walk. It was too warm to talk. The best part was the NASA Gift Store.
VII Jersey to Florida, now day four. We finally made it to Nassau. Our first stop was Rum cake. Paradise gave us a break. Then the Queens Steps if you wanted more.
Chocolate factory was the next stop. John Watling’s Distillery the last hop. Back to ship we desire, To leave this hell fire. Then long walk to the ship where I drop.
VIII Last night while we slept and dreamt and snored, We cruised to Coco Cay where we moored. We relaxed by the pool, Cause we are no one’s fool. To the beach, 6000 guests were lured.
Dinner at Wonderland was quite grand There were surprises from sea and land. The Mad Hatter was there And so was the March Hare. Not one of the ten dishes was bland.
IX There was no one to see at the pool, Yet all the big tubs were chuck full. We each had an ice cream Then back to room to clean For a great dinner with better fuel.
Scallops were first, sliced thin, hard to see Then lobster, a treasure from the sea. Tomato soup had smoke. My crustini bridge broke. A total of appetizers three.
Branzino is a wonderful dish. A delicate and tasty white fish. If that was not enough, The filet was the best stuff. A chocolate dessert my last wish.
Did I mention the various wines. Most were from delicious white vines. The red was for the steak, Of which we did partake. After, an Espresso Martini shines.
X We left the ship with no great fan fare. On the Newark bus without a care. The airport was empty. Two delays were plenty. It’ll be late before we reach our lair.
As I reach the age of 76, I find myself reflecting on my life and my own mortality. Twice in my life, I have had experiences that scared me close to death.
The first time occurred when I was working a summer job with my father at American Cystoscope. The company manufactured medical equipment and devices, including opto-digital technology for a variety of medical purposes. They also had a contract with the U.S. Army to make periscopes and other optical equipment for tanks. As a government contractor, they were required to hire teenagers for summer jobs, and so I was employed there after my sophomore year of college.
Dad made small medical instruments, like scalpels for biopsy devices. He always carried one in his wallet in case someone would ask, “What do you do?” He liked to joke that the blueprints were on a huge piece of paper, yet the device was one-half inch long.
During my time there, I was tasked with a job that involved drilling holes into a metal piece. I had no idea what I was making. I just did what they said. I had a foreman who set up the job and showed me how to work the drill press, and I did the job for hours on end. One day, I was drilling several holes into a metal piece, and I had to load it into a metal jig that ensured it was in the correct position and aligned for drilling. To drill the holes, I had to align the vertical drill above the appropriate hole in the jig and then gently pull down on the feed wheel/lever, which lowered the spinning drill into the jig.
However, I was working too quickly, and the drill bit became stuck in the metal piece in the jig. The jig, then began spinning violently, and I lost my grip on it. For a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity, I watched it spin and wobble out of control at 1000 RPM. I was standing about a foot away from this tornado of cold metal. The drill bit eventually broke causing the jig to fly 20 feet through the air and it sparked when it hit the concrete shop floor. Luckily, I was not in the way or injured. I was never asked to work on that drill press again.
The second time I was close to death occurred when I was driving to work after dropping my daughter, Andrea, off at preschool. The road was wet, and I was heading down a slight decline when I spun out of control on black ice. I headed straight for a ditch on the left side of the road, narrowly missing a telephone pole. I was then stuck in the ditch, unable to stop until the front of my car hit something and the rear swerved to the left, causing the car to roll sideways.
I don’t know how many times the car rolled, but it was enough to scare me. When I stopped, I was still in the ditch, right-side up, and perpendicular to the ditch. I couldn’t open the doors, so I climbed out of the driver’s window. Luckily, a couple of women stopped to help me out of the car and took me home. I didn’t suffer any major injuries, thanks to my seat belt, but I did have a mild AC joint separation that was caused by the seat belt.
In both instances, I was lucky to come out unscathed.
